Dirty Salvation (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 1)

by V. Theia

  Men were pigs. Men were disgusting assholes. Not all men. But she was past being logical or listening to herself.

  Jumping down from the machine, she hooked up the towel she’d brought down with her, dragged the soft white fluff around her flushed face, mopping at the sweat dripping into her eyes and across her collarbone, if only to break eye contact.

  His gaze was too devastating to a system that had felt dead for too long.

  She hadn't run nearly far enough to escape the crap in her head, but for now, her workout was over until the demons came knocking again.

  On the defensive, she attacked first before she could stop herself, the words flying off her tongue like bullets.

  The best offense was a better offense, as her father would say.

  He was a better lawyer than he'd been a dad.

  "You know, if you're here looking to get laid, you have a clubhouse full of whores eager to bend over for you with their asses in the air, Prez. Is that why you won’t give me my own room? I didn't realize my refuge came with a price. Just let me know when and where and I'll pay my debts if I must, but I don’t guarantee a porn star performance like your bitches give you, I’m not a good actress."

  Voice shaking but devoid of emotion, she knew this game well. Just open your legs, bitch, and I’ll bring you a sandwich later, you want to eat don’t you, just open ‘em, ya dig? That’s the way, bitch, ya know how to do it.

  At least now she could figure Rider’s motives for bringing her back to his club. Help came with terms and conditions and no one ever read those.

  Please. Not Rider.

  Not him. Anyone but him.

  When she glanced at him finally, the flare of thunder took her back, literally back a step, her legs connecting with a low bench.

  He took more stomped steps towards her. His hips rolling in a menacing gait, smooth enough to give her a mini cardiac arrest.

  Damn. Mister president was pissed. The blueness of his eyes blazing.

  “Did you just fuckin’ say that to me?" he gritted. "To fuckin’ me, Zara? God fuckin’ dammit, you are stubborn and fuckin’ stupid as you are pretty if that’s what you think.”

  Deathly quiet tone emitted from that massive chest. Never moving a muscle, he was statue still now, gauging her from eyes that bore not just coldness but from within she could see disappointment and that stung more than anything, worse, she felt shame and the chill rolling off him.

  Zara shivered, instantly regretting every word.

  Accustomed to fighting for her life, having her body taken against her will, she only had words to use as weapons, she could only fight with the venom on her tongue.

  Zara grieved saying them to Rider. After everything he’d done for her, he didn’t deserve her lashing.

  She sighed.

  She supposed she could blame it on temporary insanity, it wouldn’t be far wrong. Her head went in so many different directions all the time, it was a wonder she had an intelligent thought at all.

  He prowled, dragging her thoughts from the madness to the present, Zara's eyes widened expecting the worse and getting...nothing. He stopped a foot away, arms folded over the great span of his chest.

  He really was so astonishingly big all over.

  She admired his size, intimidating, but there was something darker about it.

  Calming.

  He'd never physically harm her, she discerned.

  No matter how bitchy she got, whatever nasty words she spat at him, and for a girl like Zara, it was safety.

  Her contemplation must have shown on her face; she was horrible at hiding emotions. It came with the blonde hair and pale complexion, everything was there to read.

  Zara’s brows furrowed in the middle. Insanity was a real thing, she surmised.

  The biker and her own mind were making her fucking crazy.

  “Pickin’ a fight with me ain’t gonna help any, you’ll still be hidin’. So, here’s what’s gonna happen, baby.”

  Again, with the baby. Did he even realize what it implied?

  He’d called her baby when she’d slept with him. It didn't help that she had first-hand experience on the way Rider had sex or how he sounded when her lips closed around his dick. It made seeing him, reliving that night, difficult. She'd never given anyone oral pleasure until him. He'd chuckled and instructed her on what to do, then cursed the air blue when she appeared to be doing it exactly how he liked. Afterward, he'd told Zara You're the fucking best, baby...now lemme feel your lips again.

  It was a dark depressing truth that he’d been her first but not the last. She’d only enjoyed it the once, however. So, there was that.

  “You hidin’ inside my club stops right now. Talkin’ to my brothers isn’t a requirement if you don’t want to, but you quit fuckin’ hidin' out like you’re in prison. And if you accuse me of wantin’ to fuck rent out of you once more I’ma put you over my knee and show you just what I can do for free. And I guarantee you’ll like it. Tell me you’re gettin’ me, Icy.”

  Hm. Wasn't it maddening when a man-made sense?

  Like really, really fucking maddening.

  She’d always hated being wrong when It was an impotent anger going nowhere and she succumbed to what she was feeling and that was insecurity.

  So much anger for the crap she couldn’t control.

  What could Zara do other than lash out at the one person who didn't deserve it.

  Wrong place wrong time wrong person.

  The towel looped over her shoulder she used the white ends to dab sweat and shame from her cheeks, one was easier than the other.

  Avoiding all contact with Rider's eyes, though she felt them boring into her.

  “Fine. I get you. I'm not saying sorry." Her chin went up and she sent him a quick side defiant glance.

  He advanced, stepping around a weight bench. Nothing separated them now. "Didn't ask you to, baby."

  "Hm. What else was I to assume?"

  "Let me take a stab in the dark and say something shockin’ ... that I want to help you. Fuck. That I like you, Zara, for all your crazy-as-fuck ways of thinkin’ I like you. I always liked you. There's never gonna be a right time, so why not just say it and put it out there, not askin' you for anythin' right now, but you need to know that's what I'm thinkin' when I look at you. Is it too soon? probably. Still sayin' it." His rough voice teased. “You’re insulting yourself when you say shit like that. Don’t do it again. You think I’d take payment out on your pussy for letting you stay here? Baby, you’re probably the smartest chick we ever had at the Souls MC, that includes the other chapters, but you just said the dumbest shit I ever heard. Believe when I get my mouth on that sweet pussy of yours again, it ain’t got nothing to do with owing me a debt. And when you climb me to get at my mouth ‘cause you’re so fuckin’ hungry for it, cravin' my taste on your tongue you won’t be feelin’ like you’re payin’ a tab.”

  Zara’s head reared up so fast she nearly gave herself a concussion, the blood raced to her face and neck, no gentle blush this time, it was a full-blown wildfire situation.

  Frantic butterflies went nuts in her belly.

  His eyes had gone from wild to smokey, heated even, trained on her profile.

  No amount of rubbing could eradicate the flush on her neck crawling up to her cheeks, deep cherry red, it had nothing to do with her work out.

  And all to do with Rider's dirty unfiltered tongue.

  Oh, shit.

  Who said that? Who just spoke what they were thinking?

  Jesus. She wanted to pant.

  “You can’t say things like that.”

  “Just did. What you see is what you get with me.”

  He affected her in ways she didn't want to probe. Part of her wanted to scream for him to leave her alone, she was damaged, to find someone else, and then another part of her, the needy clingy part wanted to curl into all that chest for a minute and allow him to protect her. “I gotta say, lovin' that blush of yours, Icy. I’ma make you blush again and a
gain.” Amusement laced through Rider’s silky deep voice. One more step and he'd moved closer, filling her space enough that she had to crank her neck to see his face.

  Tell him okay. Say it. He painted the most evocative picture, drawing memories of them back into her mind.

  Only those same thoughts scared the crap out of Zara, it felt too normal somehow.

  That same defensive tongue reared its ugly head. "Sounds a little like wishful thinking. You want to fuck me, Prez. It has nothing to do with liking me from my way of calculating it."

  Shut up Shut up. If she’d been normal she could have flirted with him, to bat her lashes and smile prettily and reply with her own attempt at dirty talk, though she would have failed miserably at that.

  Instead, all his candor had done was render her a tiny bit dumb.

  Head and body contradicting each other.

  Her skin bathed in fire everywhere he looked. Her nipples puckered for his hungry attention. It was as if her body reacted all its own accord whenever Rider was around.

  Goosebumps broke out along her arms.

  She couldn’t take it a second longer.

  She watched as a change took place in him in the space between one blink and the next. Gone was the biker president concerned for her safety who’d done all he could to alleviate her fear, to reassure her.

  He’d been replaced by someone raw and confident standing grandly before her. His fingers flexed, in turn, it tightened the muscles of his arm.

  Beautiful, she thought.

  The switch should have intimidated her, after all, men like him had terrorized her mind, but she couldn’t deny feeling a race of sudden excitement.

  Anticipation.

  When he spoke, his voice rasped raw.

  "I do. Again. And I love that your sugary mouth says ‘fuck’ like that. I’ma have you sayin’ it a lot." His honest return cocked her head to the side, a bottle of water stopped halfway to her mouth.

  At last, she let it travel all the way, cold water running down her throat in hopes to dampen what he was heating.

  "You find it hard to believe I like you and I also wanna fuck you hard? Had you before. They're both not mutually exclusive, Icy. Not crazy to hear I wanna spend time with you, either or get you to come out of yourself, to know you’re safe here. No one would dare touch you." Rider held his head at a differential tilt, glancing up at her though he stood so much taller than she was.

  Her face warmed.

  Ah, Jesus.

  Oh. Well. Stumped.

  Zara didn’t reply right away until she’d untied her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

  "Experience.” she offered cynically. Testing him. “If you don't want me to pay room and board with me on my back moaning some fake platitudes to stroke your ego, what do you want from me?"

  It must be something else. Of course.

  Someone like Rider, who could have any woman he crooked an eyebrow at, helping her with no ulterior motive seemed impossible.

  He'd just admitted he wanted to sleep with her again. Talons of fervor clawed at her insides, searching his face, she had to wonder was she crazy to want to believe him?

  "We could start with everythin’. How 'bout that? Maybe I want everythin’ from you, Zara."

  A shudder present in her voice when she could manage to speak.

  “That’s not … I… I don’t have everything to offer you or anyone. I told you I was broken."

  Rather than touch on what she’d said he told her. “Walk with me, baby." He caught up her hand before she could protest.

  Long warm fingers clasping hers gently enough that if she'd wanted she could have easily pulled away. God help her she didn't.

  The clubhouse seemed empty today. Hardly any noise came from the rooms when he led her up from the basement, silently tracking corridors. Food smells reached from the kitchen, and someone was running a vacuum inside the storage room direction, but other than that it was a ghost town.

  Zara's fingers clutched in Rider's, her first instinct had been to flinch from his touch, logic overriding her apprehension, this man didn't want to inflict pain on her, he was harmless, she told herself, hard to believe, harder to put into practice.

  She hated feeling the way she did.

  A beautiful man she had once been wildly attracted enough to give him her virginity laid it out clearly, he wanted her still, and she could only blink stupidly looking for his angle.

  She didn't get more pathetic than that. Ugh.

  Just as well he took over as she followed him docilely, mute for the time being while her heart raced.

  They ended up in the common room. Outside the wall of windows, she noticed The Souls clubhouse was bordered by a handful of bikes not in use at the moment, giving the forecourt that empty feel about it while most were working, or out of town running scouting intel for the president. She might be hiding, as Rider challenged, but she'd always been careful at listening to what was going on around her.

  Eavesdropping kept her alive.

  Zara had picked up enough chatter to know Rider was trying to help another chapter of the Renegade Souls that wasn't doing so well profit wise. She admired that he cared about his people. It was another part of Rider she was discovering and if she was truthful, she'd admit she was softened towards that caring quality in him.

  Not only an outlaw biker president, he was a successful businessman.

  Would she have discovered that about him three years ago, if things had developed between them? it was always with the What If's that pained Zara the most. What if she hadn't come back to his clubhouse the next night. What if she'd gone an hour earlier/later? What if she'd taken Sycamore street instead of Wilton on third?

  A lot of What If's.

  And each all circled back to this one man.

  Zara could have easily justified if it were not for meeting Rider she wouldn't have even been out that night, would not have been readily plucked by one of the Rebels members. Naive and more than a little in love with the man who had taken her virginity she'd returned to the club so eager to see him again, her eyes full of stars assuming he'd wanted to see her as well. Wrong. Only to find him in flagrante delicto with a girl on her knees, Rider fisting her hair. Rider seeing Zara framed in the doorway, devastation too clear on her face to hide it, still he'd growled lustily for the girl to unzip him, to get ready for him to feed her his cock. Zara could still feel the penetrating look he'd given her as her heart had broken into a million pathetic pieces.

  None of it was Rider's fault, she'd fancied herself in love after their amazing sex. It was her own doing she'd cried on the side of the road waiting for her cab ride, when she'd thought one of the Souls bikers had stopped in his pickup rig to see what the trouble was. The guy had even smiled at her, told her he hoped she was okay and to get herself home. The next she knew a foul-smelling rag was over her face and then nothing, until a lot later when Zara had woken up a naked captive.

  The rest was in her history chapters, forever etched as being the worse time of her life.

  She longed to turn the page, especially as she confronted this man asking to share herself with him, what was stopping her?

  Why was she in her own way?

  Even now, with her head so messed up in twenty different directions she didn't blame Rider for the way things had turned out, he had just been a cog of many in her fated path.

  No one blamed a butterfly for flapping its wings and causing a tornado across the world.

  Evil was done to her by evil men, that was their choice, never hers.

  The blame game was for fools. She had enough to contend with without swallowing Hades' bitter pill as well.

  If anything, Rider had salvaged her sanity by being the one good thing she would think about often. Now he was sheltering her from the world for no apparent price at all. An outlaw who did altruistic deeds for free. On paper, it would appear impossible, but here he was, and that's exactly what he was doing.

  The weight of his hand in hers wa
s distracting pulling her from the past into the now. The gesture was more intimate than she'd experienced in a long while and when he dropped her hand, those same long fingers strayed to her back for a moment running her into a shiver when it rested there right at the dip of her butt.

  The touch reminded her of the number of times he'd kissed her right in that same spot.

  And no mistake about it, where Rider was concerned it didn't seem to matter the atrocities she'd endured or the fleeting days that had passed since that nightmare ended.

  Lust had no timetable and Zara wanted him.

  Alarm bells went off in Zara's mind, great clanging things until she took a second to rein it in.

  Wanting him was easy to admit.

  She just didn't know if she could have him.

  She'd been scarred inside and out, she was no longer that virginal naive girl who thought the world was made up of rainbows and good intentions.

  As much as her body awoke with his affectionate touches, she was scared she was so broken she'd never enjoy that part of herself again.

  She hadn't lied when she'd told him she had nothing to offer him.

  Damaged didn't have a repair date. It was a state of mind, a reality she lived with.

  She owed Rider her respect if for no other reason than he gave her freedom and protection, not to mention patience.

  When at last Zara spoke, he'd seated her at the long-curved bar, banked behind with as many bottles of alcohol as you'd find in a nightclub. They lined up like sobering soldiers, below that shelf was rows or clean glasses of all sizes and shapes.

  Rider stepped behind and cocked his brow.

  She felt the swell of regret knowing that if she was ever capable of a normal relationship she would have wanted it to have been with him.

  She forced a smile. "Wanting everything seems a tad much, don't you think? You've grown increasingly greedy in your presidency, Rider. I suppose you can buy me a free drink at your bar. I'll have a virgin Pina colada."

  His grin turned her belly inside out. "Got no Pina colada, baby." She secretly loved that he was calling her baby. Some of her coldness thawed.

  "Here, have a coke. I poured it myself so I know it's the best." His charm melted her further.