Rive: Little Mermaid Retold (Shadow Immortals MC Book 1)

by Daniela Jackson

  After four attempts to reanimate the car, I get out of it and hang my bag over my shoulder. A pickup truck passes me and stops with the sound of the tyres squealing. A man jumps out of his car and I wave at him, then my arm collapses. Coldness fills my veins. A primal fear strangles my throat. I recognise the psychopath from the petrol station. I want to scream but I can’t.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” the man says as he leaps towards me.

  Chapter 2

  Axel

  My bike roars at full speed through the sandy hostile land as I approach two cars parked on the roadside and slow down a bit. My eyes flick over a man in black jeans and a chequered shirt who bends forward and moves his upper body into the passenger side of his pickup. He wiggles as though he’s trying to pacify a wild animal in the passenger seat. I pass him and rev up the engine but a few seconds later, something urges me to turn back, like a cold hand of uneasiness has stroked my mind. My sixth sense. I trust it, especially after it has saved my ass three times.

  I reduce speed and my bike manoeuvres smoothly, changing the lanes and going in the opposite direction. Approaching the pickup, I notice the man in the chequered shirt. He’s trying to restrain a girl. Fuck, I knew something was wrong. The sick fuck pushes the back of her head and bangs her forehead against the car body. He raises his eyes towards me and freezes as I brake a few steps away from him. My bike hits the road, sliding forward, and I leap towards him. The girl crawls away, coughing. Blood spurts from her nose.

  A cold calm fills my mind as I block the man between the driver’s side of his pickup and my frame with my hand shooting towards his throat. I’m a ruthless monster now. Immobilising the man with my hand, I slam my fist into his abdomen. He groans, writhes then chokes on his vomit. Fear pervades his glance, but it’s the kind of sick fear like he believes that he can conquer me. His arms flap as I shove him onto the ground and kick him in the face, turning it into a bloody mash. My foot sweeps, crushing his intestines, and his body starts convulsing. That will do. Clean and precise. I don’t care whether he will live or die.

  Arcing the back of the pickup, I look around and spot the girl moving forward along the verge. She’s walking slowly and staggers, embracing her bag like her life depends on it.

  “Hey,” I shout, but she doesn’t stop so I run after her. “Hey.”

  I catch up with her in a few seconds and clutch her arm. She squeals and tries to pull away so I grip her other arm and turn her round. Her dark eyes lock onto mine, and I’m speechless for the first time in my fucking twenty-nine-year life. I’m staring at her like I’m a teenager in love.

  There is a large bruise with a cut on her forehead and another smaller one above her upper lip. The left corner of her mouth is covered in blood but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m staring at an angel. Her almond hair cascades down onto her breasts and her back like a waterfall and some tendrils shine like white gold. The colour of her irises resembles that of dark ale and her thick dark eyebrows arch like a seagull’s wings. The mysterious darkness of her glance and the unique lightness of her hair create an almost unearthly mix. She’s young like the life sprouting in spring yet at the same time pristine like the forces of nature. And her lips? They’re full and perfect, pleading to be crushed with mine.

  An oversized t-shirt covers her chest and hips, but I can tell that she is curvy in all the right places. Her jeans look like she borrowed a pair from her older brother and one corner of my lips crooks up at her baggy outfit.

  I shake my head and compose myself. She looks sixteen at most. She’s just a kid.

  “It’s okay,” I rasp. “I won’t hurt you. Did he...?”

  She shakes her head. A weakening relief washes over me, and my heart skips a beat. Then surprise at my emotional reaction courses through my mind. Why do I even care so much?

  “I’ll take you to the hospital,” I say.

  She shakes her head like she is desperate and steps back. Her body tenses and her seductive lips form ‘o’. The muscles of her face twitch and she tries to articulate a word but somehow struggles as though her voice has stuck in her throat. Only a sigh escapes her mouth.

  “You need to see a doctor,” I say. “You may need an X-ray.”

  Her long black eyelashes flap and she pulls away, but I tighten the grip on her arms.

  “Did you run away from home?” I ask and look at her sternly. “How old are you?”

  Her face frowns as her lips move. I can see veins popping out in her neck and her fingers roll into fists.

  “Eigh-teen,” she says as she gasps convulsively after each syllable, and it looks like even saying one word is a challenge for her.

  “You are eighteen, right?”

  She bobs her head and smiles at me.

  “I’ll take you to the hospital,” I say firmly.

  “Nno,” she says with the same effort as previously and pauses, “nno ho-spi-tal.”

  “Why? Are you in trouble or what?”

  “Plea-sse.”

  I let out a low growl. “Where do you live then?”

  Her lips purse into a horseshoe and she sighs then digs her hand into her bag, taking out a folded piece of paper. She hands it to me and bobs her head several times.

  I free her arms from my grip and spread the paper. The perfect handwriting says:

  I had meningitis when I was fourteen and since then I’ve had problems with my speech. But I’m not stupid (and I can sign). An evil man wants to hurt me. I have nowhere else to go. Can you help me?

  I stare at the letter for a long moment. Fuck. I shouldn’t have read it.

  My rationality urges me to get rid of her as soon as possible, to leave her at the nearest police station. Then I re-read the last sentence, and my forehead wrinkles. My glance meets hers. Her wide eyes plead silently.

  Of course, I will help her. She has just opened the door to the cell where I’ve been keeping part of me called a human, releasing it. Making me angry. Uncomfortable. And evoking so many other emotions I can’t even name. I give the letter back to her and run my fingers through my hair.

  My eyes lock onto hers again. She looks at me with anticipation, then raises her hands and gestures to me but unfortunately, I don’t speak any sign language so I shake my head.

  “How do you know that you can trust me?” I ask with sarcasm.

  She shrugs and spreads her hands, palms facing the sky.

  “Okay,” I say. “Are you feeling sick?”

  She shakes her head. Good. She hasn’t had a concussion. Her pupils look normal to me as well.

  “I will take you to my place,” I say. “You can stay with me for a few days until you find a room to rent.”

  She curves her lips as though she wants to say ‘thank you’ but her expression darkens. I’m pretty sure that my offer scares the shit out of her.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I say. “You can trust me.”

  In fact, no woman should trust me, but she’s not a woman. Not yet. And I’m good with kids.

  One more thing grips my attention. There are two cars on the margin.

  “What about your car?” I ask. It’s a total wreck, but I can look at it later.

  “Donn’t needd.”

  “Belonged to your deceased grandpa?”

  She bobs her head at me and beams a smile at me. Perfect. That wreck is off my head.

  My hand clutches hers and I pull her behind me towards my bike. She hangs her bag across her body and reluctantly follows me.

  Lifting my bike from the ground, I scold myself in my mind. I have just adopted a kid. I have to get rid of her as soon as possible. A few days, that’s all.

  I get onto the bike, planting one leg onto the ground.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  She tenses and curves her lips. “Sive.” Her head nods. “Sive.”

  “Sive?” I say.

  She smiles as I hold a hand out for her.

  “Axel,” I say.

  Her hand grips mine, and she step
s on the peg, throws her other leg over, then sits behind me. Her chest clings to my back and her arms wrap around me. I feel her body shivering against mine. She puts her palms on my abs just above the waistband of my jeans and I forget that she’s a kid. Just like that. It’s violent like a hammer has struck against my head. My rationality screams that I’m a pervert, but my body recognises a woman in her. She’s eighteen, right? An adult? A woman with large tits and a hot pussy. And she will sleep in my bed tonight.

  My dick twitches in my pants as a fantasy flashes through my head. I picture Sive naked on all fours and I’m fucking her from behind, then I’d cum in her mouth.

  The part of me I didn’t even expect to have reprimands me and a sense of shame spreads in my chest. I can’t touch that chick. It would be like a sacrilege. She is disabled and vulnerable, and even such a monster like me knows that people like her need protection.

  I will protect her from the whole world. From me in particular.

  She is a kid, and I have just adopted her. I will repeat it like a mantra until I start believing it myself.

  Chapter 3

  Sive

  I’m hungry, thirsty and exhausted. My head pulsates with a dull pain. I’m fucked, but my situation is far better than fifteen minutes ago when that psychopath from the petrol station wanted to hurt me. He would have caused me pain in many different ways; I saw that in his sick glance.

  I don’t trust this giant with inked muscular arms, sitting in front of me, but he saved me and for one brief moment, his grey eyes radiated with warmth.

  He is handsome in a crude and dangerous way. A thin long scar runs across the side of his face and the unruly appearance of his black short hair intensifies the impression that his soul is wild and rebellious. Violent like the grey storm in his glance.

  Axel revs up, and we shoot forward. My hands press against his hard abs; my heart pounds of fear, and I want to merge with his sleeveless leather jacket that he wears over a dark green t-shirt.

  I know who he is. The inscription on his back says ‘Shadow Wolves MC’ and it’s the name of the motorcycle club he belongs to. Well, theoretically, he may be a criminal, but he offered me a roof over my head. He won’t let me starve either. I’ve got twenty-five dollars in my pocket so I won’t complain about his sudden hospitality. I might as well have been homeless tonight. I can’t afford to be fussy.

  We ride at full speed, and I just focus on my survival. I’ve never been on a bike and a lot of bikers die or that’s what I heard so I hold on to Axel with as much strength as I can manage.

  The air smacking my face fills me a sense of freedom and timelessness. It’s like my problems are non-existent. Only the roar of the engine and the speed matter to me. I dig my fingers into Axel’s abs and bury my face into his back. My thighs quiver against his bottom. It’s cold. The iciness of the air pricks my arms and my teeth chatter together. All the stress, uncertainty and fear grip me like a clawed hand and squeeze the energy out of me without mercy.

  We pass a few houses as Axel reduces speed, and I realise that we are on the outskirts of a town. More buildings rise along the road; they exude the allure of the past and stand on the hillsides stretching on both sides of the road. My eyes flick over their Victorian facades; there is a saloon accommodating now a shop, and two cafes. It’s one of those places where one expects more ghosts than human beings. I wouldn’t be surprised if I couldn’t find this town on any map. It’s like we’ve just crossed between two dimensions. Like this tiny piece of reality hangs in a timeless bubble of fantasy separating it from the rest of the world.

  Axel parks in front of a garage and holds my hand in his, helping me to get off his bike. The calluses of his palm scratch my skin. I plant my feet onto the ground and my eyes roam over the surroundings. There are two more bikes on my left and the garage door is closed. It’s Sunday, after all.

  “Mine,” Axel says, tilting his head towards the garage.

  I sigh with relief. He isn’t a criminal. He is a businessman. I’m lucky.

  Axel glances at me with cold eyes and jumps off his bike. I’m shaking. My throat starts to be sore and tears well up in my eyes. I think I will end up with a bad cold.

  “Jesus Christ,” he says. “It’s the beginning of summer.”

  With the back of my hand, I smooth my forehead and left cheek. I have a mild fever. Axel moves closer to me and runs his palm down the side of my face.

  “You have a fever,” he says, confirming my suspicions.

  He lets out a low guttural growl as though he is furious, then leans towards me and wraps his arms around my form, scooping me up. It’s so unexpected that I manage only a small groan. My hands jerk up and clutch the edges of his jacket. My bag bumps against my back as he carries me through the narrow passage between the garage and the wall of an uninhabited orange house with a devastated garden. The passage opens into a square area; metal parts and tyres lean against the concrete wall and patches of overgrown grass dot the ground around a former industrial building turned into a house. We enter it through a metal and glass door, and I find myself in some kind of loft accommodating a living room with an open plan kitchen.

  Two people are lying on the corner emerald couch. They are both half-naked in fact, a young woman and a young man. They are occupied with themselves. The man is on top of the woman and kisses her neck, making her moan softly.

  I’m so embarrassed by that couple that I bury my face into Axel’s chest. I can feel his lungs expanding in a deep inhalation as he rumbles, “Get out. Now.”

  I turn my face and watch the woman crawling from beneath the man as he sits in the couch and tosses back his shoulder length dark hair. Tattoos adorn his chest and arms and he has a perfect body like he’s been working out for his whole life. He looks younger than Axel but has the same shade of eyes—bright grey like a storm cloud.

  “I told you not to bring them here, Zane,” Axel growls.

  The woman covers her full breasts with one arm and rummages around the room to pick up her bra and vest from the wooden floor. Two red and pink rugs cover the floorboards and their patterns resemble the Peruvian craftwork.

  Axel sets me in the couch beside Zane who stares at me with his fingers sinking into his hair. I shrink into myself and lay my bag at my other side.

  “What is it?” Zane asks, zipping up his jeans as his curious glance sweeps over my face.

  He called me ‘it’, but I’m not angry with him. Zane’s whole being oozes a sense of humour and friendliness.

  He isn’t paying attention to the woman who puts her bra, vest on, and corrects the waistband of her jeans shorts.

  “This is Sive,” Axel says and turns his face towards the woman, “See you later, Lisa.” His voice is harsh. Menacing, even.

  “See you,” Lisa says and escapes from the house like a predator is chasing her.

  “Hi,” Zane says to me and extends his arm to shake hands with me. “I’m Zane.”

  His grip is firm and warm and he holds my hand for longer than necessary. A dirty thought flashes through my mind whether he put that hand into his pants or into Lisa’s. Whatever. I can always wash my hands later.

  “Sive,” I say.

  Axel has just introduced me to Zane, but I feel I should say something.

  Zane widens his eyes but doesn’t comment my speech. He sweeps my hair away from my face and glances at my bruises. I send him a smile because he seems to be a very nice person, and his lips curl into a wide grin as well.

  “Wow,” he says. His grin softens into a genuine smile. “You little enchantress.”

  I chuckle and Zane touches my bruises with his fingertips. His face tenses and his eyes radiate with concern.

  “We have to take care of you,” Zane says and runs his knuckles down my cheek.

  “Hey,” Axel growls and shoots us a rigid glance.

  If a glance could kill, Zane or I would be already dead.

  Zane moves away from me so the distance of an extended arm will separate
us.

  Axel rushes to the kitchen and opens one of the cupboards, taking out a piece of gauze and a plastic bottle. He returns to the couch and kneels in front of me, pouring the translucent liquid onto the gauze. His fingers gently sweep away the hair from my face as he cleans the bruise on my forehead. It stings and I hiss in pain.

  “Make her a cup of tea,” Axel says, “with plenty of rum. She has a fever.”

  “Where did you find such a cute little thing?” Zane asks as he rises to his feet in one smooth motion.

  “On the road,” Axel says. “She was in big trouble.”

  “What trouble?”

  “A sick fuck who targets chicks like her. That kind of trouble. But I took care of him.”

  “Properly?” Zane asks.

  “Very properly.”

  I don’t know what happened to the man who attacked me, but it seems like Axel knocked his teeth out. Well, it’s as it should be. Maybe that sick man will never do something like this again. I hope Axel or Zane will call the police as well. That psychopath should be in prison but surely, they must be aware of this.

  Zane puts the kettle on and Axel wipes the skin around my nose and chin.

  “Are you hungry?” Axel asks.

  I bob my head at him and his palms land on either side of my head. The toilet would be a nice idea too so I curve my lips to ask him.

  Embarrassment rolls over me. I hate it. I know what to say, but there is always a disconnection between my thoughts and my body parts responsible for producing speech.

  “Toi-let,” I say. The muscles on my neck are taut with effort.

  “Sure,” Axel says and strokes my hair with his palms, then lifts himself and scoops me up in his arms. It’s nice and awkward at the same time. I feel both like a princess and like a rotten egg.

  We pass Zane who carries a steaming cup and places it on a glass coffee table by the couch. He opens his mouth to say something, but Axel growls, “Shut up.” He carries me towards an arched door of a burgundy colour and lets me slide down onto the floor.