by Raven Monet
I'd have to tell him. One way or another, I had to tell him about Deacon. But I couldn't let him see me cry. I couldn't let him know it affected me or hit me as hard as it had. Though even I was surprised it had affected me at all. My tears were mostly anger mixed with some past hurt that would take a long ass time to go away. But I didn't want to explain that to him.
Before going inside, I slipped the ring back on my finger. Staring down at the brilliant diamond – a full karat, princess cut solitaire – I couldn't help but smile. I didn't wear the ring at work since not wearing it was helpful in collecting a little more in tips. They said it was better for business to pretend you were single. Let the drunk fools think they stood a chance.
The living room light was on, which meant he was still up. Waiting up for me. No matter how early he had to be up for work, he always tried to stay up and wait for me to get home.
It was the little things that made me appreciate my new life.
The front door opened and there he stood, checking on me since it was taking me awhile to come inside. I exited the car and rushed toward him, ready to feel his arms around me again. And as soon as we were together, he wrapped me in a bear hug, pulling me close and kissing me.
“How was it tonight?” he asked, stroking my cheek. His dark eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Everything okay, baby?”
“Everything is fine,” I said, catching myself in a lie. “Well, maybe not everything. But let's go inside and talk, okay Micah?”
“Of course,” he said, ushering me inside the house. He'd moved in with me about two months ago. The house my mama left me when she'd passed. It was larger than his place and had more room for a nursery. Or several nurseries as he liked to joke. As soon as we were inside and the door was closed, he pulled me close.
“Talk to me, sweetie.”
“Deacon is in town,” I blurted out, feeling it best to get it out in the open.
His body tensed up and his expression grew grim. I looked up at those familiar dark eyes, stroking the stubble on his chin. I knew the news would bother him. It always bothered him when his brother was in town.
“Does he still hate me?” he asked sarcastically. We both knew the answer to that.
“I'm sure he does,” I laughed. “He will never forgive you for not following in the family footsteps.”
“Well, he can just deal with it. That's not me,” he said, turning those beautiful dark eyes to me. “And how about you, Lucy? Did he upset you at all?”
Sighing, I nodded, admitting the truth. “Only because he insists this child is his.”
Micah tensed up again, but this time, his fists were balled up at his side.
“I told him it wasn't.”
“Does he know whose it is yet?”
“Not yet. He doesn't know about us. but God, when he finds out...” tears burned my eyes and there was a knot in my belly.
Last time, Micah had gotten Deacon pretty good. But Deacon was wasted, not expecting it – especially not from his twin brother. Micah had always been the softer, gentler of the two. The one who usually chose non-violent tactics to solve problems. Deacon had underestimated Micah and paid for it. But I highly doubted he'd make the same mistake again.
“Shhh, sweetie. It's okay,” he said, kissing my forehead and stroking my hair back from my face. “We both knew he'd find out eventually.”
“I know, it's just – I just wish he'd just leave us be,” I said.
I looked up into Micah's eyes and it always shocked me just how much the two of them looked alike. For being two totally different men, they couldn't have been more identical looking. Except that Micah kept his hair shorter and clean cut. He also worked as a landscaper rather than running in a motorcycle gang. And he didn't have a single tattoo covering his oh so perfect body. My hands were trembling as I grasped his t-shirt, holding on for dear life.
There was something in Micah's eyes, though, something resembling fear – but not fear of dying or being hurt. It was something more deep, more personal. And I knew exactly what it was since we'd talked about it before.
“You know I love you, Micah. And only you, right?”
I stood on my tip-toes to kiss his lips.
“I know that, Lucy. And I love you too, you know that. You and the baby are my entire world, and I'll do anything to protect you from that bastard.”
“I know you will,” I said, kissing down the length of his neck while my hands moved to remove his shirt. “I know you will, Micah. And no one will ever take us away from you, I promise.”
Micah's hand fell to my slightly swollen belly, massaging it gently. He knew this child might not be his, but he didn't care. It was his because he would claim it as such. And we would be a family. Micah, our child, and me. The family I never knew I wanted. But the family I was thrilled to be having.
“Make love to me, baby,” I whispered into his ear. “Mark me. Take me as your own.”
As soon as I said the last bit, Micah jerked back, staring into my eyes. “Lucy, you can't mean – ”
“But I do,” I said. “I want it. I want to be claimed by you, I want to be yours forever.”
“You don't know what it means, though,” he said, shaking his head. “I won't do that to you.”
I grabbed onto his hands so he couldn't pull away. “Please, baby. I want this. I need this. It might be the only way to protect me from Deacon and I'm already yours forever, once we go down to the courthouse.”
“But marriage is different,” he said, giving me an inscrutable expression.
“How so?”
“Because you're free to leave me if you decide to,” he said.
“But that's not the way it's supposed to work. That's not how being married will work with me, Micah,” I said, pulling his hand to my lips and kissing his knuckles. “It will be forever. And besides, I know you would never, ever make me stay if I didn't want to.”
Micah looked uncomfortable. We'd talked about it briefly before, but never seriously. His marking me had always been hypothetical. I didn't see a need, but I knew he was against it. He thought it was wrong, felt it would somehow lock us together forever – even against my will. I told him before that's not how it works, but I couldn't tell him exactly how I knew that.
“Please, baby,” I said, placing his hands on my belly. “Not just for me, but for our child too. We need you.”
Micah didn't look entirely convinced, but it was true. It would keep Deacon from stepping into the picture and trying to tear us apart. After it was done, there would be no way to tear us apart.
I kissed him long and hard, pressing him up against the wall, taking that shirt off once and for all. I slipped it over his head and tossed it to the ground. Micah's body pressed against mine and I felt his erection through his jeans. With one quick motion, I removed his belt and he started working at my jeans as well, dropping them to the floor. I stepped out of them, wearing nothing but my lacy pink panties. My belly hung over the panties just slightly, reminding us both what else was at stake here.
“God, you're so beautiful, Lucy,” he said, dropping down and kissing my belly.
“Even though I look like a whale,” I teased, stroking his hair and appreciating the love he felt for me and our baby.
“You don't look like a whale. You're pregnant. With my child. There is nothing more beautiful than that,” he said, sliding his fingers into the edge of my panties and sliding them down and off me.
His mouth found my most sensitive bits, licking and sucking on my clit as I stroked his hair, pressing him into me without even intending to do so. It just felt so good to feel his tongue on me. In me. Micah was a considerate lover, never rushing, always taking his time with foreplay and making sure I came over and over again. He enjoyed taking care of me.
Always so gentle and sweet, unlike his brother who was hard and rough. There was a time for both kinds of sex, I believed. I just needed to teach Micah about the latter – though he was getting more aggressive with me now. He'd start
ed testing the waters to make sure I liked it without ever going too far. Little did he know, he could never take it too far with me, but I appreciated the care he put into his actions. Never before had anyone truly considered what I wanted the way Micah did.
He'd be happy to go down on me for hours on end if I so desired it. And trust me, there were times he did just that, playing with me, touching me, fingering me until my body couldn't take it anymore.
His tongue licked at my opening, teasing me and making my knees go weak. My skin felt alive, it felt like it was on fire. Every nerve in my body was on high alert and my innermost parts needed more of Micah. His tongue was fantastic, but I needed him inside of me.
I needed him to make me his.
Pulling on his hair, I forced him to look at up me, the juices from his handwork all over his luscious lips. He licked lips and smiled at me.
“Fuck me, Micah,” I said, pulling him up, forcing him to stand. “Please, baby.”
“Your wish is my command,” he said, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me over to the couch.
Briefly, I considered bending over, letting him take me from behind. I'd always loved that, and that was one position we hadn't tried yet. The reasoning was simple – Micah was a lover. A romantic. He liked looking into my eyes while we made love. But sometimes, I just wanted a good old-fashioned fucking too.
But now was not the time, for other reasons.
“Sit,” I said, pointing to the couch.
Micah raised an eyebrow at me but did as he was told, sitting down, his cock standing tall and ready. I climbed on top of him, straddling him with my legs and pressing his cock directly against my opening. But instead of taking him inside of me, I rubbed him around, taking just the head of him inside of me before rubbing his cock against my clit.
Micah stared deep into my eyes, our foreheads together, as I slid down the length of his shaft, taking him inside of me inch by glorious inch. Micah grabbed onto my ass, helping guide me down onto him as his face contorted into a look of pure bliss.
His hands also guided me as I moved up and down on top of him, our bodies united as one. Micah kissed my neck as he yanked my shirt off me, exposing my bra and enlarged breasts. With one hand, he removed the bra like a pro, tossing it to the floor behind me. Once my breasts were bare, he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked on it, making me buck wildly on top of him.
“Oh Jesus,” I said, surprised at how sensitive my nipples were. They were always sensitive, but this – this was an entirely new sensation for me. Pregnancy sure as hell came with some perks.
Micah grunted and groaned as I rode his cock, our bodies shuddering and shivering together as the pleasure took us higher and higher. His nails now dug into my ass as he tried so very hard not to explode inside of me so soon. And I knew it was time.
Brushing my long, blonde hair to the side, I exposed the right side of my neck. Micah stared back at me, unsure and questioning with his eyes as I continued riding him, drawing an animalistic groan from his lips as I said, “Do it, Micah. Mark me. Make me yours.”
I felt myself tighten up around his cock as my body experienced mind-shattering spasms. My head fell forward, hair flying everywhere as the pleasure became too much. I begged him, over and over again, in the throes of my orgasm, “Please, Micah. Please, baby, please.”
My hands were clenched tight to his chest, holding on tight as I rocked and bucked wildly on top of him. Now was the time to do it, if he wanted to do it. It would hurt less now.
Lifting my head up, throwing my hair back, I once again exposed my neck, pressing it into Micah's face. “Bite me, baby. Just not too hard, remember – ”
But I didn't have to tell him to be gentle. Micah bit me, his teeth entering my flesh as another orgasm rocked my body. His hands held onto me, keeping me in place as even he shuddered against me. I screamed, but not from the pain of the bite, but from the pleasure mixed with pain. A euphoric feeling rushed through my veins from where he bit me, all the way to my heart. It hurt. It was as if my heart stopped for a moment, then started beating again. This time in rhythm to Micah's. He pulled back, staring into my eyes as he raised his body up from the couch while holding me down, shoving himself deeper inside of me and staying there.
The look on his face was one of pure ecstasy. And just seeing the way his face twisted with pleasure and hearing the sounds of pleasure escaping him – it overwhelmed me and sent me into another shuddering orgasm. Together, we rode this one out. Our hearts beating as one.
Our bodies truly united in the way you only can be if you've been marked.
And I had to admit, it was truly fucking amazing. More so than the first time I'd been marked. And I never, in my wildest dreams, would have thought was even possible.
Chapter Five
I was still in his lap, staring into his eyes when the other side of my neck – the side he hadn't marked – started burning. My heart raced as the blood stopped in my veins. I had hoped that Micah's marking would break my ties to his brother, but it obviously hadn't.
Micah must have seen something in my eyes. “What is it, Lucy? Are you okay?”
I couldn't breathe, much less talk. It felt like someone had hold of my throat and was squeezing the life from me. It could only mean one thing.
“Deacon,” I managed to choke out as the air rushed into my lungs at last.
Coughing and choking, I nearly fell from Micah's lap, but he held onto me, held me close, watched me and tried to figure out what he could do.
“Lucy. Oh God, Lucy. Lucy,” he said over and over again, holding my face in his hands. “What about Deac – ”
But he never finished his question. He didn't have to.
The front door splintered and cracked at the hinges as it burst inward. Whether it was locked or not, it didn't matter. He could get through any door, come into any house he wanted.
I jumped up as soon as I heard the sounds, pulled myself away from Micah's lap as quickly as possible. Not that there was any way to cover up what we'd just been doing anyway – we were both still buck naked after all. I grabbed a blanket on the couch, covering my body with it as if that might do some good.
Micah was standing, growling, his eyes red and fierce.
Deacon stood in the doorway, fists balled up at his side, ready to smash someone's face in. The only thing that stopped him was a surprise. There was a look of hurt in his eyes. He looked shocked and for a moment, I felt horrible. Until I remembered who he was – and what he was capable of.
“Deacon, no,” I said, rushing toward him as if I could stop a fight from breaking out.
Micah grabbed me, held me back in his arms. I fought against his hold, but Micah was worried about me, not knowing that Deacon would never, ever hurt me.
“Please,” I begged him. “I can't let him hurt you.”
“He's not going to hurt me, Lucy,” Micah whispered into my ear, his gaze still on his brother. “He's still my brother.”
“We were brothers, you mean,” Deacon shouted, shaking his head. “But that was before you made your choice to abandon your family.”
“I'm no lion, Deacon. We both know that. I'm not cut out for your life. Never was, never will be.”
“But you're cut out to be a fucking teddy bear?” Deacon spat. “A fucking bear, Lucy. Really? My own brother at that?”
“There's a lot you don't know about my tribe, Deacon,” Micah whispered. “There's a reason I joined them rather than stay human. It's where I belong.”
“You joined because you're a pansy, man,” Deacon said, cracking his knuckles.
Looking between Deacon and Micah was like night and day. It was hard to believe they once shared a womb, that their mother used to dress them in identical little outfits for church. If I hadn't seen the pictures myself,saw two little boys with identical faces wearing matching overalls, I might not have believed it. But I'd seen the pictures. We had the photos in an album somewhere n the house, so we could show our child the family he'd never
get to know.
“I'm not a pansy. Just because I don't like the pride bullshit, the killing, the violence, the crime – that doesn't make me a fucking pansy. It makes me human like you once were too.”
“You're no human,” Deacon said, walking toward us but stopping to look at a photo that hung on the wall. It was a picture of Micah and me, taken at a Sears Portrait Gallery. Deacon laughed, shaking his head in disgust. “You just like to pretend to be human. But you have the Walker blood in ya, man. You proved it to me the last time we fought. Took a chunk out of my face here.”
“And I'll do it again,” Micah said, finally letting me go, but holding onto my hand. “Leave so I don't have to hurt you again.”
“Oh, I'll leave all right,” he said, closing his eyes. I could feel my feet moving even before I even knew what was going on. The scar on my neck, from where he'd marked me years ago, began to burn, searing my flesh and commanding me to go to him. He was calling me. “After I take what's rightfully mine, that is. My woman. My child. And my soon to be, Lioness.”
“No,” I muttered, looking back at Micah as he held onto my hand, trying to grab me and stop me from walking.
His mark was also burning on the other side of my neck. I stopped moving, feeling the push and pull between the two men. It was like I was literally being pulled apart, torn into two halves. The left side wanted to go to Deacon, the right to Micah, and my heart was stuck between the two.
“No, Deacon. Please. Leave me be.”
“You want me still, Lucy. Face it. You want me.”
I couldn't outright lie. Not when he had control over me like this. He could tell when I was lying, he could force me to tell the truth. And to do so in front of Micah, the man I loved – it would destroy him. I couldn't do this.
“I don't know what I want right now, Deacon. I'm being torn apart her,” I said, crying out as my body burned, tugging me in two different directions. “It hurts. It hurts so badly.”
I fell to my knees, covering my face and reached for the marks on my flesh, literally trying to scratch them from my skin just to regain some sort of sanity.