MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories)

by Alix Labelle

  Maybe it did sound a little dorky when Marie said it, but the words “I love you” were still music to Amanda’s ears. It had been a long time since she’d heard anyone say that phrase and actually mean it—probably not since her mother died, during her senior year of college, just over two years ago. Her ex, Tommy, had said it to her plenty of times over the years after that, but it turned out he also said it to a few other girls at the same time, as he was banging them behind Amanda’s back. They broke up not even six months ago, and the sting of his betrayal still burned het.

  Sure enough, it really had been a long time since Amanda had heard someone say “I love you,” and it had been just as long since she actually felt loved. But, right then, as she stood up and regained her footing in Marie’s doorway, she felt nothing but love around her. She felt her cousin’s caring, compassion, and concern, and she felt something else too. There was something else comforting her, and it was all around her. She breathed it in and let it flow down her throat. A sweet aftertaste crept over her lips, cool and crisp, and she shuddered in delight.

  “I think I should go back to bed now,” Amanda said, a little delirious but attentive enough not to make her cousin question her decision. She calmly turned and walked back toward the guest room, while Marie headed off to the kitchen.

  “It’s nearly sunrise,” Marie said, calling back to her. “So I’m just gonna get my day started. Rest up and join me whenever you’re ready.”

  Amanda didn’t bother to reply, but, instead, she smiled a smile that Marie couldn’t see and kept walking toward her room. As soon as she entered, she walked to the bed, crawled under the covers, and closed her eyes. She was overcome almost immediately with a deep sleep and didn’t wake again for several hours.

  Chapter 6

  “Good thing for you I’m not paying you by the hour,” Marie said, barging into the guest room. It was nearly 4:00 p.m., and although she was sensitive to her cousin’s needs, she was getting tired of working all day by herself when she had another able worker sawing logs down the hallway. “If I did, you wouldn’t have even earned enough to pay for your keep today, so get your ass out of bed, get yourself cleaned up, and come downstairs.”

  Amanda barely caught what her cousin said, but she caught enough of it to know that her cousin meant business. After Marie flung open the curtain and flooded the room with light, Amanda reluctantly got up out of bed and dragged herself to the bathroom two doors down from her. “I’m sorry,” she said, passing her cousin along the way. “That fainting spell really took a lot out of me this morning.” She was telling the truth, even if she wasn’t being completely honest. Whatever it was earlier that morning, it was no fainting spell, but it certainly had drained her, and she didn’t even want to be awake yet. She could have slept for hours upon hours more.

  Once Amanda was in the bathroom, she turned on the hot water in the shower and let it run for a bit as she sat down on the toilet and breathed in the steam. It was helping to wake her a little, and it filled her with something to counteract all the coolness that seemed to be running through her.

  A few moments later, Amanda was under the stream of hot water, and, as it washed over her, she felt relaxed and refreshed. She knew she had a lot of making up to do to Marie—and a lot of catching up to do on helping her—but she felt confident that she could do it all… and then some. It’s amazing how something as simple as a shower can really change a person’s mindset and attitude, and Amanda was a living, bathing tribute to that concept.

  As soon as Amanda was done showering, she dried off, wrapped a towel around her thin, but curvy body, and returned to her room. She opted for a comfortable pair of sweats and a fitted T-shirt and took her time putting them on. She was in no rush and was enjoying going about things at a leisurely place, and she figured she’d already wasted enough of her cousin’s day that a few extra minutes wouldn’t matter.

  Amanda brushed her hair back into a ponytail, ran a stick of deodorant under her arms, and headed out of her room, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to face whatever came her way. But when she got downstairs, she was met with something—or rather someone—she hadn’t expected.

  Marie wasn’t in the kitchen but was in the living room instead, and she was seated across from a tall, thin man who was slightly older than her and far less attractive. His features were bland, and so was his clothing and facial expression, and he definitely didn’t look like he’d stopped by on any type of social call.

  “Amanda,” Marie said, looking up from the cup of coffee she had in front of her. She was drinking it out of one of her fancier teacups, not a mug, which wasn’t a good sign as far as Amanda was concerned. “This is my friend Peter—Peter Albert. I asked him here tonight to talk with you.”

  Amanda stared at her cousin and her cousin’s unlikely companion from the bottom of the stairway. She raised her eyebrow, turned, and then headed toward the kitchen. “No thanks,” she said, making her way to the refrigerator for a snack. “I’m not dating anyone new right now.”

  It was obvious that Marie hadn’t called Peter there as Amanda’s date, and Amanda was obviously trying to be a bit reticent in saying what she’d said.

  “Seriously, Amanda,” Marie said. “After what’s been happening, I was very worried.” Marie and Peter walked into the kitchen behind Amanda, not skipping a beat.

  “First you wake up and have no idea what happened the night before,” Marie went on. “Then you pass out in the middle of the night and sleep all day. You’ve been in a daze since you got here, and I can’t just sit back and watch this happen to you. I figured maybe you needed someone to talk to.”

  Amanda examined Peter. Even if she wanted to talk to someone, he didn’t look like the kind of guy she’d want to talk to.

  “I mean, you only lost your mom two years ago,” Marie continued, starting to ramble. “And you were really serious with Tommy for two years after that. You guys only recently broke up, and maybe there are some unresolved feelings there or something—maybe something is eating away at you. Whatever it is, you’ve got to confront it.”

  Amanda felt her face getting hot. She didn’t like her cousin standing there, disclosing so many intimate details about her life, and she knew Marie had probably shared more with this stranger before she’d walked in on them in the living room.

  “I can help you,” Peter said, reaching his thin fingers into the pocket on the chest of his generic button-down shirt. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Amanda. Amanda looked at it quickly and was just about to dismiss it, but she couldn’t. Her jaw dropped, and she gawked at her cousin.

  “Dr. Peter Albert, Psychiatrist,” Amanda read from the card before throwing it down on the counter. “You fucking called a shrink to talk to me?” she asked her cousin. Marie looked back at her without saying a word, and Peter stepped forward. “Calm down, Miss Leonard,” he said. “Let’s just go in the other room, sit down, and work through this.”

  “You go to the living room,” Amanda said, burning through him with her eyes to look at her cousin, who stood humbled behind him. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”

  With that, Amanda stormed upstairs and returned to her room, where she collected as much of her stuff as she could. All she cared about was her phone, her purse, and her car keys, but she grabbed what clothes she could, figuring she’d forget about whatever she left behind. She’d come here to help her cousin get ready for an event, out of the kindness of her heart, but now she wanted nothing more than to get as far as she could away from her.

  “Amanda, wait!” Marie shouted when Amanda ran down the stairs a minute later, but Amanda had her keys in her hand and a plan in her mind, and she wasn’t stopping. She careened right past Marie—and right past Peter, who sat on the couch writing something in his notebook—and made a beeline for her 1992 Chevy Cavalier.

  Amanda hopped in her car, revved the engine, and looked at the gas gauge. It read over half of a tank, and she wasn’t sure how accurate it was, bu
t as she shifted the sedan into drive, she hoped it’d be enough to get her wherever she was going.

  Chapter 7

  “Oh no,” Amanda said, staring down at her dashboard. “Why the hell does this keep happening?”

  The needle on her gas gauge had just spontaneously shifted from around a half of a tank to well below “E,” and, as Amanda’s car sputtered forward, she knew that she was nearing empty.

  That’s what you get for driving such an old car, Amanda told herself, once again. She’d said that same phrase to herself several times over the past few months, but this time it felt even more familiar to her. She’d been having trouble with the gas gauge for months, and, every once in awhile, despite her better efforts, she ended up in a situation like this… though this particular situation felt hauntingly similar to another she’d experienced, though she could say why.

  “Fuck,” Amanda said, examining her cell phone. “No Service” flashed across the screen at her, and she wanted to throw the useless piece of junk out of the moving car window.

  Amanda looked out at the sprawled out, empty space beside her as her car continued to slowly lurch forward. She’d been driving along an unoccupied, rural stretch of highway, trying to make some time on her way back to Pittsburgh, and there wasn’t a home, business, or shred of discernable human life or activity around for miles.

  A cold chill filled the car, as if someone had blasted the air conditioner. This all seems so familiar, Amanda thought to herself, pulling her car over to the side of the road. She thought about checking her gas can in the trunk, but she knew it was empty but for a few drops, and she didn’t want to risk trying to stretch out what was left by adding water.

  That could be dangerous, she told herself. If I had a phone signal, I could look that up on the internet. Amanda’s head was spinning, and it was flooded with images from ripped from the silver screens and headlines. She didn’t want to be a sitting duck on the side of the road, so she decided to hoof it towards civilization, even though her head wasn’t on straight just yet.

  She collected her belongings from the seat beside her and reached behind her to grab her overnight bag. If someone wants this piece of junk, they can have it, she told herself, readying herself to abandon her ride. Just as she turned back around to face the front again, Amanda dropped her bag, gasped, and felt startled. A bright light was shining on her, and a vehicle was traveling in her direction.

  The vehicle kept traveling toward Amanda until it stopped directly in front of her—and, when it did, it idled with its lights on, and Amanda was unable to see much else other than its large, broad shape and the smaller, rounder shape of a figure approaching her.

  Instinctively, without even thinking about it, Amanda turned off her engine, opened her car door, and stepped out into the night. The bright light surround her, and, as the figure drew closer to her, she felt more and more drawn to it. She began walking aimlessly into the light, which was otherwise blinding, and soon enough felt entirely engulfed in it. She couldn’t see, hear, think or feel anything but the brightness around her, and it kept propelling her forward.

  The next thing Amanda knew, she felt as though she’d hit a brick wall. Something hard and wicked slammed against her chest, and it knocked the wind right out of her. It took her a moment to recover from the blow, and when she finally did, she looked around her and noticed that the bright light had entirely faded and the night had returned to a still, empty darkness.

  Amanda looked out at the road ahead of her, and the other vehicle was gone—it had disappeared in what seemed like an instant, and the mere idea of that terrified her. She knew that, no matter what, shit like that just didn’t happen.

  She realized that she was without her purse, bag, or phone, and though she’d remembered trying to grab it all, she was unsure where it was but figured it had to be in her car, which she could sense was still behind her.

  Amanda turned around to return to her car when she was immediately met with a pair of steely gray eyes placed perfectly in a perfectly shaped face. The pale, ashen skin surrounding those eyes looked eerie, yet inviting, and the jet black hair that jetted down above them in crooked spikes poked at her senses.

  Amanda gazed into those steely gray eyes for a moment later before leaning forward and placing her lips against those of the mystery man who stood before her. “You taste familiar,” she said, registering his sweet flavor.

  “I should,” the figure said back, though his lips didn’t seem to move with his words. They did, however, move when he brought them back to Amanda’s.

  “This has happened before, hasn’t it?” she asked, melting into his mouth. As his tongue flicked against hers, it felt like he had taken control over all of her muscles and was massaging them.

  “Not this exactly,” the strange figure said. “But something a lot like it.” Amanda felt dangerously close to him, and though she knew that they were both clothed, it felt like his manhood was inside her. Something thick, hard, and hearty was swelling and throbbing throughout it, and she wanted so desperately to understand it, though she wanted even more to yield to it.

  “I’m so sorry,” Amanda said, again feeling the need to compensate for every aspect of the situation around her, “but I don’t remember everything.”

  “It’s okay,” the mysterious figure assured her. “You weren’t meant to. You weren’t allowed to—that’s what the gallerine was for. But, tonight, we’ll go without it.”

  Amanda had never heard the word gallerine before, but she immediately knew it referred to the green liquid she only vaguely remembered drinking the other night.

  “And we’ll go without all of the other bells and whistles, too,” the figure added. Amanda tried as best as she could to look at him and appreciate all his beauty, but, as incredibly attractive as he was, there was also something vacant about him. He had something about him that begged to be overlooked and could easily be forgotten. Each time Amanda thought she came to realize something about him, she immediately lost track of it, and found herself mesmerized by his mere presence.

  “What other bells and whistles?” she asked, though she wasn’t necessarily looking for an answer.

  “Like this,” he said, flicking his fingers. In a flash, Amanda was no longer on the side of the road but was suddenly in a crowded roadside bar, surrounded by other people. But, those other people didn’t look so real to her at the moment—they looked like holographs or projections from a reel somewhere. They were going about their business without making any noise and without any response to Amanda and her companion.

  “These things are just meant to sooth you,” he said, flicking his fingers again. In a flash, all the other people disappeared and he and Amanda were standing alone in the otherwise empty bar scene, next to a table much like the one Amanda recalled sitting at the other night.

  Amanda had no idea what was going on—but she knew one things for certain. Whoever, or whatever this mysterious figure was, he definitely wasn’t human, and he was definitely calling into question everything she thought she knew about herself, her world, and the greater universe around her.

  Chapter 8

  “Where am I?” Amanda asked the being seated across from her at the small, round table, still unable to completely discern his appearance.

  “That’s a good question,” he replied, “but there is no easy way to answer it. For centuries, your people have tried to explain this place in terms of religion, myth, and science, but nothing has even come close to it describing it. Suffice to say, however, that you are in a very unique place, and the fact that you are here is very significant. It’s rare for someone of your kind to be here, let alone grasp anything that happens here.

  “So for the time being, please understand that you are in a safe place and that no harm will come to you while you are here. Think of this as a safe harbor if you will—a plane that exists solely for the purpose of existing and providing a place for beings to go when they most need it.”

  “Am I dead?�
�� Amanda asked, confused. She suddenly wished she had some of the gallerine to calm her nerves or at least a few more sweet, tender kisses.

  “Hardly,” the mysterious being said. “In fact, you’re more alive than you know. and that fact puts you in grave danger.”

  “I thought you said I was safe here,” Amanda repeated, trying to make sense of the words that seemed to be coming at her from nowhere.

  “You are,” the being confirmed. “You are safe here, but I can’t say the same for you when you’re anywhere else. I don’t want to frighten you, but I must tell you there are certain forces determined to harm you, possibly kill you, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.”

  “Why’s that?” Amanda asked, even more confused by the situation.

  “You’re a very special girl, Amanda,” the being said. “And, in time, it will all become clear, but we must take baby steps and get to that point gradually, so as not to overwhelm you. What you’ve experienced already is enough to drive some of your kind insane, if not kill them.”

  Amanda felt a lump rise in her throat, and if she hadn’t been so intoxicated by the strange creature before her, she would have wished she was still back at Marie’s dealing with “Dr. Peter Albert, Psychiatrist.” At least he was human.

  Amanda’s ethereal companion could tell she was having a hard time digesting things, so he flicked his fingers again. Out of nowhere, an old-school jukebox appeared in the middle of the room, and, in an instant, Amanda and the being were standing beside it.

  “Classic rock?” the figure asked, leaning over the glass of the machine, turning the knob at its side. “Led Zeppelin’s your favorite—or at least it was—if I’m not mistaken.”

  Amanda nodded her head, and a moment later heard Robert Plant’s voice wailing from the machine. She couldn’t tell exactly what song it was he was singing, and she wasn’t sure it was anyone in particular to begin with. The sound that came out of the jukebox was like a mix of everything the band had ever done, and, instead of sounding dissident or unbalanced, it sounded beautiful, in both perfect harmony and rhythm.