Undaunted: Knights in Black Leather

by Ronnie Douglas

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated.

  “I’m getting tired of sorry, Red. Maybe you could try a new tune.” Zion turned back to the shed then and walked away from me. Bitterly, he said, “Come on. I have orders to follow.”

  ONCE THE WINDOW was covered and Echo had left, Grandma Maureen kissed both Zion and me on the cheek and said, “You’ll fix the sofa up for him?”

  I nodded.

  “Echo will have the boys patrol, and I’ll be right here all night, Mrs. E. You’re safe.”

  “I know.” Grandma Maureen patted his cheek fondly. She met my gaze and said, “I expect everyone to be safe.” She looked back at Zion. “Are we clear?”

  I blushed, but Zion didn’t so much as look away from her. “No worries, Mrs. E. I’ll be out here on my own.”

  She looked at me once more and then left us standing in the middle of the living room.

  “I don’t need a cover or anything. You can go on,” he said, and then he walked over to the front door.

  I stood there silently, staring after him and not knowing what to do. Since we’d come back from the shed, Zion wasn’t speaking to me any more than was absolutely necessary. All the comfort we’d had just a couple of hours ago had faded.

  Mutely, I went to the linen closet and pulled out sheets, a blanket, and a pillow to fix up the sofa for him. When I came back, Zion was outside sitting on the front porch, not quite ignoring me but certainly not being very open. I busied myself making up his bed.

  He still hadn’t come inside by the time I was done, so I walked over to the door.

  “Zion?”

  “Go to bed,” he said, not even looking my way.

  My heart broke a little more at that, but I didn’t know what I’d say if I stayed. I watched the street, trying to think what to say. For a moment I thought I saw Quincy’s truck drive by, but there were more than a few red pickups in Williamsville.

  Zion remained silent, so I went to my room, trying not to obsess over what we’d shared there earlier. When I fell asleep, there were tears on my pillow.

  Chapter 24

  WHEN MORNING CAME, Zion was on the front porch again. I could see that he’d been inside at some point: all the bed linens were neatly folded and stacked on the end of the sofa.

  I went into the kitchen and found Grandma Maureen at the table with a cup of coffee in her hands.

  “Sit with me,” she said.

  I poured coffee for myself and grabbed a banana before going to the table. When I sat next to her, we said nothing at first. I’d always loved mornings with her. There was a quiet comfort in simply being near my grandmother—but we also had the ability to talk about anything and everything.

  “Did you love him?” I asked. “Eddie Echo?”

  “I don’t know anymore.” Grandma Maureen smiled at me, looking a lot younger in that moment. “I loved the way he could make me feel, the way we laughed, the way he thought no one would ever compare to me.” She shook her head. “I think I could’ve loved him if he wasn’t who he is, but at the same time, I wouldn’t have loved him if he wasn’t who he is.”

  “He wasn’t the club president then,” I half said, half asked.

  “No, he wasn’t.” She met my eyes sadly. “He was what Zion is, too young to have been committing the crimes he already had. He was one of the smartest young men I’d met, and back then, that thirteen-year age gap was a lot wider than now. I had a son to raise, and having a criminal around your father wasn’t something I could do.”

  “But?”

  She laughed. “But sometimes widows have needs, and Eddie Echo’s always been easy on the eyes.” Grandma Maureen shot a speaking look my way. “Zion looks a lot like him.”

  “You knew?”

  “That he was Zion’s father? Before Zion was even born. There was another possibility or two, but Liz swore the baby was Eddie’s before she took off.” My grandmother gave me a sheepish smile. “I was probably a little soft on Zion because of it. By the time he was in elementary school, it was painfully obvious to anyone who took a good look, and if looks weren’t enough, the boy’s mind was plenty of proof. Seeing Eddie with him was almost enough to make me forget my objections to giving us a chance, but even then, the club always came first for Eddie, and my family was first for me.”

  “And Zion?”

  “If anything had happened to Eddie, I would’ve been raising a little hellion.” Her smile turned sad. “Eddie wouldn’t give him up while he was still alive, but he wasn’t going to let him grow up parentless. If Eddie ended up dead or in jail, I would’ve had custody of Zion. As it was, the club raised him . . . but you knew that part.”

  I felt like my whole world had tilted. “So you really get it? This mess with . . .” I looked toward the living room.

  “I do,” she said. “And I stand by what I said before: if you think you’re going to end up in the life, I’ll buy you a ticket to Oregon right now. What Eddie and I had was a lousy excuse for a relationship, and if I can help it, I’ll not see you do the same—or worse yet, truly commit yourself to a man who’s going to end up dead or in jail.”

  I was silent. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know.

  “I’m going over to check in with the girls,” Grandma Maureen told me after a few moments. She shot a look toward the front porch. “Talk to him before things fester.” She took a steadying breath. “I don’t approve of you getting involved with a Wolf, but from the looks between you last night, you’re already involved enough that some serious conversation is in order. You need to find a solution or get quit of him.”

  I flushed bright red, but all my grandmother did was shake her head. “No judgment, lovie. Just a plea for common sense.”

  Then she was gone, and I was left with an angry Wolf at my door. I wanted to try. I really did. I walked into the living room, watching him as he sat silently outside my home. He was there to keep us safe, and I felt safer because of it. For the first time in my life, I wanted to attempt a relationship.

  I pushed open the door and stepped outside.

  Zion looked over his shoulder at me. “Is this the part where you tell me we can’t be together again?”

  I sat down next to him, close enough that our knees touched. “I promised you a date, and I meant it, but that doesn’t mean that your father was wrong.”

  He stared out at the street.

  “I can’t ask you to leave your family. I can’t,” I said. Zion opened his mouth to argue, but I held up my hand. “If you walk away from them and we . . . don’t work, you’ll resent me. I can’t bear that.”

  “We have something here, Red.”

  I nodded. “We do.”

  He stared at me, waiting for me to continue.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For being here for me last night and for the first night at the fair and at the bar and . . .” I stopped, took a deep breath, and said, “You keep appearing when I need you.”

  At first he didn’t answer, but after a moment he said, “If you let me, I’ll be at your side so you don’t need to wait for me to get to you.”

  I held out a hand to him.

  Silently, he stood and took my hand. I didn’t know how to fix the things that were wrong. All I knew was that I wanted to make him happy. Hesitantly, I asked, “Will you let me try something?”

  I stood and started to walk, pulling him behind me. He followed me into the house, but when he realized we were headed to my room, he stopped.

  “We’re the only two people in the house,” I assured him.

  Zion studied me for a moment. “Tell me what’s going on here, Red.”

  “I’m sober, and we’re alone, and I want . . .” My words left me as we walked into my bedroom and closed the door behind us.

  He raised one brow and looked at me. “You want what?”

  “You.” I walked to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small foil packet. I met his eyes as I placed it quite obviously in the center of my nightstand. “I just want to
put all of this aside and . . . be with you.”

  His eyes darted to the condom and then to me. “Is that the proposition I’ve been waiting for, Red?”

  “Not very sexy, but—”

  “It is,” he interrupted. “What I need is for you to be clear and direct.”

  I swallowed nervously. “I want you. Now.”

  Zion fixed his gaze on me but didn’t speak. He withdrew his gun and put it and the holster on my dresser. That was it, though. He left his shirt on, and he stayed on the far side of the bedroom, just in front of the closed door . . . the same door he’d pinned me against last night.

  “Do you w—”

  “Let me see you,” he ordered.

  I was nervous as I let my shorts drop to the floor. I stepped out of them, kicked them to the side, and met his gaze.

  “More.”

  I pulled off my shirt, leaving me in only my bra and underwear.

  His eyes seared my body, but I couldn’t look away from him. He took several steps closer, but I held up a hand. He stopped halfway across the room.

  “Your turn,” I said in a surprisingly steady voice. I gestured toward his shirt. “I want to see your skin. I’ve wanted to since you were on my porch without a shirt.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He jerked his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but jeans. Then he advanced the rest of the way to me. He was so close that I needed to touch him. I leaned forward and kissed his bare chest.

  “More,” he repeated, sliding his hands over my stomach and up to the edge of my bra. “Take it off.”

  I tilted my head to look up at him, and then I reached back and unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor between us.

  Zion cupped my breasts in his hands reverently. Slowly, he leaned down and brought his mouth to one breast while caressing the other.

  “Perfect,” he murmured.

  Then his hand trailed down my stomach until he reached the top of my underwear. “More, Red. I need more.”

  I shivered at the hunger in his voice, but I did as he asked. I took his wrist in one hand and guided him lower. At the same time, I used my free hand to push my underwear down.

  For several moments, I gave in to his caresses, trembling under his skillful fingers, and then I pushed him backward toward the bed.

  He sat on the edge of my mattress, but when he reached for me, I shook my head. “Back up.”

  I pushed on his chest so he’d lie back and then climbed up after him.

  “Red—” he started.

  I ignored him and kissed my way down his chest, exploring the hard planes. It felt unbelievable to know that of all the women in the world, I was the one he wanted to have touching him.

  He hissed when I paused to flick my tongue over his nipple, cussed when I repeated the action on the other side, and moaned when I grazed his collarbone with my teeth. Muscles tightened under my hands as I reached his flat stomach, and he drew a shaky breath as I unhooked his belt. “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to.” I willed myself not to blush as I admitted, “I’ve never tried this, but I want to. With you, I want to.”

  He watched me intently as I slowly unbuttoned his jeans. His hand stroked over my hair and brushed it away from my face so he could see me.

  “I’ve fantasized about this,” I whispered between kisses on each bit of skin I exposed. When he made a growling noise in his throat, I licked as much of his skin as I’d bared.

  His hand stilled in my hair. “More . . . please.”

  I freed him from his jeans and slid my hand over his length. Then, while he was arching up, I followed the motion of my hand with my mouth.

  Zion said something, but it was unintelligible.

  I might not have ever done this, but I’d watched a few movies and read more than a few sex scenes. So I experimented, letting his moans and arching hips guide me on what he liked.

  And I discovered that what I liked was having him desperate for my touch. As I sucked and stroked him, his hand fisted in my hair.

  I gave a hum of appreciation. My own reactions to the sheer power of having him on the edge were unexpected, and I wished he could touch me too.

  When I reached down and cupped his sac as I swallowed around him, he took a shuddering breath and tensed.

  “Fuck, Red. You’re killing me,” he muttered.

  I repeated my actions, and after another groan, he ordered, “Stop.”

  Confused, I lifted my head, releasing him. I looked up and met his eyes, but I couldn’t resist flicking my tongue out to lick him when I saw how excited he was.

  “Turn around and come up here,” he demanded, moving me as he spoke.

  It only took a moment to realize what he wanted. I flipped around, and he grabbed my hips, pulling my body up roughly. Before I had a chance to even speak, he had his face between my thighs and his tongue on me.

  It wasn’t slow, but I didn’t want slow. I wanted the way his fingers dug into my skin, the way he feasted on my body. I’d done that, made him need me that much. It was a dizzying feeling.

  I lowered my mouth to him again, wrapped my hand around the base of him, and met him moan for moan, thrust for thrust, until we were both shaking.

  “Stop,” he ordered. “Stop and . . . just let go for me, Red.”

  He moved me so I was facing him, looking down at him as his mouth made me whimper and his hands trailed up my chest. My whole body was trembling, and still he pushed me higher. Time ceased to exist. There was only skin and breath as he showed me joy I hadn’t known was possible.

  When I stopped writhing, he pushed me onto my back and said, “Tell me yes.”

  For a moment I was too dazed to answer, but then I felt him slide against me. My answer was more sigh than word: “Please.”

  He tore open the condom that I’d left on the nightstand, sheathed himself, and then he was inside me.

  Nothing in my life had prepared me for this, for him. My entire body felt like it was burning, and the more he moved, the more I knew that the fire was going to consume me. As he moved, I understood how very, very wrong I’d been about sex. What I’d done before was a pale mockery of what sex was like with Zion.

  There were no words for the feeling building inside me.

  “Harder,” I whimpered, feeling the edge of heaven just out of reach.

  He jerked my legs up so they were straight in the air and he pressed deeper inside me.

  The universe expanded, and I could swear there were stars exploding in my eyes. As soon as he felt me tightening around him and heard me cry out, he followed me into that impossible pleasure.

  As aftershocks rippled through me, he rolled onto his back and pulled me onto his chest. Words were still out of reach, but in that moment, they were extraneous anyhow. Zion’s hands traced over my body as I curled against him, and that was all the conversation we needed.

  Chapter 25

  THE PHONE’S BUZZING pulled Zion out of the best sleep he’d had in ages. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. A warm body curled against him; soft hair spread over his chest. He didn’t spend the night with women. Ever. It gave them the wrong idea.

  Then he looked at the woman he had pulled tight to his side. Red. He ignored the phone call and looked at her. It was hard to believe she was there. That he was there next to her. It was what he’d wanted since the night they’d met.

  He’d gone from furious that she wasn’t truly willing to give them a real shot to terrified that she was in danger to . . . this. He was holding her, in her bed, after finally being with her. He didn’t think he’d ever been as content as he was right now.

  The phone buzzed at him again.

  He slipped out of the bed, pulled on his jeans, and stepped into the hall. Once he was out of earshot, he returned the call he’d ignored.

  Echo answered, “You don’t refuse my calls, boy.”

  “Sorry.”

  “If the girl can’t handle hearing you talk to me—”

  “She’
s asleep, Echo. I didn’t want to wake her.” Zion walked back to the living room and sat on the sofa that had been his bed the night before. “That’s all. It was two fucking minutes, man. I called you as soon as I was out of the room.”

  Echo was silent for a fraction of a moment before he said, “You need to get your head on business, son. Lack of focus is dangerous.”

  Zion bit back a sigh. “Duty calls, then?”

  “Meet me at the house in thirty. Someone should be there in ten to keep an eye on the women until one of us can go back over,” Echo said, and then he disconnected.

  When Zion looked up, Aubrey was standing in the doorway watching him. Her arms were folded over her chest, and all the boldness of this morning had vanished. There was no soft smile or inviting glance. She was so closed off he wasn’t sure if he could even kiss her good-bye.

  “I need to head out.”

  “For . . . work?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded once.

  “Right,” she said. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, but then she straightened her shoulders and looked at him. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Just for a few weeks longer,” he reminded her.

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he added.

  She gave him a watery smile. “Can you . . . not wear the gun next time? I know you’re still theirs right now, but . . . here with me, could you—”

  “Yes.” He hadn’t thought about it, but he could see how uncomfortable it might make her. He beckoned her to him, and she stepped forward. He pulled her into his arms and held her. “One month. Then I’ll figure out something new to do, and we’ll keep figuring us out.”

  She tilted her head up, and he kissed her, feeling the stress melt out of her by the moment. When he pulled back, she said, “Be safe.”

  “Always,” he promised, grateful that she hadn’t taken the time to ask about any of the scars he wore from too-close encounters. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to answer any questions about the past until he was no longer doing things that could result in getting injured.