by Brogan Riley
We allow ourselves to steady our breaths and get up. We kiss like two teens.
We visit a tattooist on our way to the airport. Seke brands me with his name, and I brand him with mine.
Ten days later.
We’re seated in a small ancient bus, chickens staring up at us. An old woman wrapped up in a Peruvian scarf and with a wicker basket in her lap flashes me a warm smile. The bus climbs the mountain, hissing like an old train. Out the window to my left is stretched a cliff and a violent grey river below from where we are crawling. The road is narrow, just a ledge along the rock wall, deadly to all the people lacking humbleness, so I cling to Seke’s arm. I’m very humble. God, I’m the humblest person in the world.
“He’s a good driver,” Seke whispers into my ear. “Don’t worry.”
“In case he wasn’t I just want to tell you that I love you,” I shriek.
Seke brushes my temple with his lips. “I love you more.”
I watch the rocks and vegetation outside the window. A thought drifts through my mind like a delicate whisper. “She wanted to travel all around the world.”
“Who?”
“My mother.” Sadness pricks my heart and suddenly I miss her so much it hurts. Tears well in my eyes. “I didn’t want her to die. I wanted her to be good, rich, and happy.”
Seke throws his arm around my back and pulls me to him. “I’m so sorry, Rose. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”
Surrounded by the Peruvian wilderness, I feel like I’m facing a primal higher force. I realise something.
I understand everything.
That was nobody’s fault. That was an accident.
“You didn’t kill her, Seke. Neither did I. That’s just life.” I draw in a deep breath. “I think I’m ready to forgive her, forgive myself. You should forgive yourself too.”
I want to cherish my good memories of her. I want to burn a candle for her once a month.
I feel that I’m her daughter and she’s my mother for the first time ever. She’s not with me, but it feels like she was.
I know deep down she’d be happy for me.
She wasn’t selfish. She wasn’t a bad person. She was tired, hurt, and lost. Strangled by her bad childhood, crushed by the hardship of her marriage.
I was a girl, a hurt, misunderstood child until two weeks ago. Now, I’m a woman. I understand the woman in her.
“I feel grateful,” Seke says. “She gave me a wonderful gift.” He kisses my lips. “That gift is you.” He frowns at one of the chickens sitting on his bike and tapping his feet.
“A chicken biker,” I say.
“A roast chicken if he dares shit onto the seat,” Seke says.
Another chicken climbs onto the bike and shakes his head. Seke growls. The chickens tilt their heads and sway in rhythm with the bus. They’re funny guys.
We chose to catch a bus because we don’t know the local roads. The bike was loaded into the back of the bus after the driver had removed two seats. That cost us a fortune.
We’re heading towards a small village in the mountains, hoping to find shelter there.
I have everything I’ve ever wanted in life—the love of the most wonderful man on earth, freedom, dreams, the whole world to explore.
I love my life.
I love my husband.
A wave of nausea surges through me. I feel dizzy.
“You okay, princess?” Seke asks.
“I’m fine, don’t worry.”
His hand travels to my tummy and he whispers something in the language of his mother’s origins.
I chuckle. “I thought you weren’t a believer.”
“That won’t do any harm.”
I purr. “I love that part of you.”
Epilogue
Rose
My feet almost dance above the ground as I climb the path. The torch in my hand casts a wavy streak of light. It slides over the stones and dry low plants around me. A cloud of vapour leaves my mouth. I correct the chunky scarf around my chest and enter the bar. The smell of tobacco envelops me. I see my husband standing behind the bar top, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder. He’s polishing shot glasses with another tea towel.
My eyes drink in his long hair tied on the back of his neck, his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and exposing his inked forearms. His black vest reflects the flickering light of five candles and the bandana around his neck gives him a dangerously tempting appearance. He looks like a 1800s bad boy. He just needs a cowboy hat.
The last customer exits the bar. Staggers out of the bar to be precise. The owner flashes me a genuine smile that causes his furrowed face to gentle and light up.
Seke winks at me as I correct the Peruvian blankets that hang on the walls and help the young waitress tidy up the chairs and tables. Each of the tables is different. Each of the chairs is different. It’s a mix of colours and styles and eras, all of them worn out by time and the touch of many customers.
Seke bends and moves under the bar top and then walks over to me. His eyes are burning with hunger.
His eyes never leave mine.
His mouth closes mine. I can smell tobacco and pisco from him. His arms shelter me in a solid warm embrace. The owner laughs behind us and urges us to go home.
We walk out of the enormous shed that accommodates the bar. Its walls are made of metal and red brick. Every piece of metal has a different colour. The building looks like it has been brought over from a junk yard, but each time I enter it, a shawl of warmth, joy and love envelops me. The people living here are wonderful, so easy to make friends with. So full of bright light and hunger for life.
The Peruvian wilderness wreaths us, so mysteriously harsh and pristine. It’s ringing, singing, and growling with the voices of many insects and animals. The sky is frosty black perfection as the stars glitter like diamonds. A cloud of vapour leaves my mouth with each exhalation. Seke glides his palm over my pregnant belly as his lips search for mine.
“I’ve missed you so much, Rose.”
Seke
She chuckles, no laughs at me. “We were apart only for six hours.”
I love her so much. I’m madder and madder about her as time goes by. Even an hour without her feels like torture.
“I’m a young husband,” I say. “I have the right to miss my wife.”
I kiss her deeper and the baby in her belly kicks me.
Rose is seven months pregnant. We’ve been here for six months. We’re living in a shed.
We’re living like a proper caveman and his cavewoman.
We love each other too much to notice that though.
I set her back against my chest with my arm crossing over her breasts as we make our way up the concrete steps that lead to the metal front door of our house. We walk inside and Rose shakes off her scarf and hoody.
I unzip my black trousers and free my hard cock. My wife’s eyes flicker in the light of an LED lamp as her lips curl into a seductive smile. I stroke myself up and down, our gazes connected. Her eyes flick over my erection and she chews her lower lip. She clutches the windowsill as I lower her tracksuit bottoms and guide my cock into her wet entrance. I push in. Rose moans.
I love her sweet moans.
Her inner walls clench around me, stripping me of rationality. I thrust into her gently as she massages her clitoris.
Her pussy spasms around my cock, bringing me to the brink. I cum with a moan.
We kiss; we laugh like teens.
We boil water and have a bath. Well, sort of. The bathtub is in fact a large metal bowl.
We make love on our screeching old bed. Then we bury our naked bodies under the layers of intensely coloured blankets, each of them beautifully unique. Each of them a gift from a friend.
“I’ve found a golden coin today,” Rose says with excitement. “It must have belonged to a Spanish conquistador.”
Yes, she’s been digging in the ground around the house for a hobby. She’s found two forks, a knife, a piece of pottery.
&nb
sp; I’ve been working as a barman for three months. The owner is like a father to me. He mainly pays me with food, clothes, cutlery and toiletries. Tara sends me money every month. I told her not to do this, but she’s very stubborn.
“That’s great,” I say.
“Love you,” she murmurs, arching her back against my chest.
Her body is so pleasantly curvy and soft now. I’m mad about the little flea growing inside her belly.
“I love you more,” I say.
I could kill for her, die for her, and destroy the whole world for her.
She mumbles something, rubbing her lush ass against my groin. My cock grows hard again. I stroke the swell of her breast, circling her erect nipple with my finger. I hold my cock and guide it into her heat. Her pussy sheaths me.
Always so damn good with her.
I thrust into her slowly, carrying her towards her peak.
“Fuck me harder,” she gasps.
“You’re pregnant, woman.”
I push into her deeper. She arches against me as a long moan leaves her mouth. Her inner walls contract, squeezing the orgasm out of my cock.
We fall asleep, clenched tight together.
Epilogue 1
Tara
So, the little shit has just become the president of the Liberty Pirates MC.
I empty my glass of beer and flop from the bar stool. Ally wipes the bar top with a damp cloth and flashes me a smile.
“There’ll be a wild party tonight,” she says as her eyes gleam with joy.
She’s forty-six but has the stamina of a twenty-year-old girl. With her short dark blonde hair and petite body, she looks only thirty. Her kids went to live abroad, so she’s focused on the bar and on loving her husband. His love makes her look more and more beautiful with each year that passes.
“Uhm.” I sigh.
Sadness pricks my heart.
Rose and Seke are far away from me, but they are safe and happy. They’re expecting another baby. Yep, they’re breeding like rabbits.
I call them once a month, each time using a new phone so there’s no trace left.
I just found out that my cop boyfriend has cheated on me. He’d sniffed around the compound for a while, found nothing, so we finally could focus on our relationship. He was so sweet. Sweet to a few others as well.
But it’s Lucas’s big day so I’m going to be happy for him.
The boys had no doubts about who should have replaced my brother. Lucas has got a good brain and perfect education. He’s young, but the older club members are here for him.
I move back as my body rests against a tall, hard obstacle. A male body to be precise. His tantalizing smell invades my nostrils—tobacco, spices, and light sweat. I turn around and my eyes rise to Lucas’s. His masculine scent circles me, teases me, and makes me feel uneasy.
Lucas grins at me, tossing back his shoulder-length blond hair.
“What?” I ask, trying to regain my equilibrium.
He leans towards me, his hot breath brushing against my ear. “More respect, woman, or I’ll have to punish you.” His voice is part serious, part humorous.
My eyes widen as my jaw drops open. “I know the rules, Lucas,” I mumble, taken aback.
He’s the president. I am here to respect him. Yes, things have changed and I need to adapt.
“Good you know them.” Now, he sounds mortally serious.
There’s something menacing about the tone of his voice. Something dangerous about the way he’s looking at me.
I don’t know.
Rose and I have always been close.
Lucas?
He’s always been an enigma to me.
He’s twenty-two now. Handsome as fuck in all honesty. Every piece of bar trash wants to be his old lady. Yeah, there’s been a lot of women visiting our bar these days. Lucas pulls them like honey is pulling bears. A beautifully sculptured magnet.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” I say.
The fury exploding in his eyes almost destroys me. Why is he mad at me?
I work as a good godmother here. Always have. I don’t cause any trouble. I have the right to be proud of the younger generation.
I’ve been a fairytale godmother for so long that I don’t remember how to be just Tara.
Our glances collide again.
Suddenly, he is not Lucas. He’s a savage. He’s the tower of muscles that’s going to crush me.
I step back, but he steps forward. He grips my arms and squeezes. I hiss but that is from surprise not from pain.
The top of my head reaches barely up to his shoulder. I feel like I’m in a trap.
My eyes shift to his and I shiver.
He bends his neck forward and his lips slam on mine. My knees buckle. My mind spins out of control.
I tear my mouth off his. “Lucas, what the fuck?”
Wrong.
He’s the president, Tara, so don’t piss him off.
It’s quiet around us.
Lucas rests his forehead against mine, pinching a wisp of my hair. “You want to stay here? Sure, you want to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You can stay,” he says into my ear with a coldness that drills into my heart, “but only if you have my brand on your back.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Tonight, Tara. You’re gonna have my brand as early as tonight.” His lips brush against mine. “Once you’ve been branded I want you to…” he adds as he nibbles on my earlobe, “lie down on my bed.” His wet tongue moves up and down my neck. “Naked.” He straightens. “I’m getting married tonight,” he yells.
The boys start hooting and howling.
Lucas pulls me into his arms and crushes me in his embrace. His lips touch the top of my head.
Today’s church must have been more than just voting Lucas in as the president.
“You bastard,” I hiss so quietly only Lucas can hear me.
“You need someone to take care of you, Tara.” Lucas strokes my head. “That’s my job as President to keep you safe, close to me. That’s how I want to show my respect for the former president.”
I want to rip his throat out.
I want…
No, I don’t.
Why would I want to touch him?
Chapter One
Tara
The tattoo burns as though a real fire is licking my back. I’m perched on the bed. Lucas’s bed.
I have nowhere else to go. I repeat it like a mantra. That’s a lie, but if I repeat it a hundred times it’ll stop being one.
I could go back to my parents’ house. No, I hate that village—five stone cottages, no internet access, and no cell phone reception. I love the clubhouse and its internet access. I love my hotel. I love it so much I have just become the president’s old lady.
Lucas’s old lady.
I don’t think about it because I don’t know what to think.
Nikusha branded me with my old man’s name three hours ago. He’s very talented. His wife’s tattoos are all a piece of art.
I don’t know whether I’m more furious or more stunned.
Lucas did what an honourable president does. He’s going to take care of the former president’s sister. Being his old lady means that I’ll be respected and protected. I could have said no. I didn’t so that’s on me.
The door of the bedroom creaks open and a tall figure walks in.
“We need to talk, Lucas,” I growl.
I move my ass against the bed. The bedroom has nice modern furniture and beautiful curtains of an aqua colour. They wave at the touch of the breeze drifting inside through the window ajar.
Lucas sits down beside me. “You’re not naked yet.”
“I thought you’d love that shameless satin piece of fabric.” I smooth a hand down the red nightdress I’m wearing.
He buries his face in my neck and kisses me below my ear. “I love it,” he murmurs.
A tingle runs down my spine. “Lucas, talk to me,” I gasp.
His eyes clash with mine. “I don’t want to talk,” he growls. His fingers trace the margin of skin around the tattoo on my back. “I’ve talked to you enough. You never listened to me. No point in talking.”
I don’t know the man beside me. Fury and brutality radiate from him.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“What’s so fucking hard for you to understand?”
His eyes blaze like two abysses of hell. A shade of hurt creeps into his gaze.
“You have a crush on me?” I ask. “This is what it’s all about?”
“I wouldn’t call it a crush on you.”
“You’ve just taken me as your wife, Lucas. What is it all about?”
“Fucking hell, Tara. You even seen yourself in the mirror?”
“Yes, every day.”
His fingers sink into my hair and he inhales me. “So fucking beautiful.” His voice has a softer tinge.
I feel like I’m fifteen again. “You think I’m beautiful?”
Tara, be a grown woman. That’s not high school. That’s real life.
He rests his forehead against mine. “Absolutely beautiful. Perfect. Amazing.” He kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be very educated and rich soon, Tara.”
“I know.”
“You’ll have a good life with me, I promise.”
“I had no choice as you can see.” Sarcasm coats my voice.
“Can you listen to me for once?”
“I’m all ears.”
His jaw muscles twitch. Youth and uncertainty radiate from him, breaking my heart. He’s gone through a lot in life. I love him, but not like Rose, I’ve always loved him like he’s a human being in need. Nikusha and Seke kind of raised him. I’ve always been his friend or tried to be one.
He grunts. “Can you look at me like you looked at that shitty boyfriend of yours?”
“Don’t even mention him. I have an urge to murder when I as much as think about him.”
Lucas chuckles. “I’ll be faithful to you unlike that piece of scum.”
I suck in a breath. “You are serious.”
“Very serious.”
“But you’ve never—“
“I’ve always… But you’re blind, you know.”
“I’m not blind. I can see that I have a very… very handsome husband.” I nudge his chest with my elbow.