by Marata Eros
I frown. Going back into a more natural position would hurt after being strung up like that.
But God damn if she didn't like being tied down when I had her.
My eyes run over her body. Lush tits. Beautiful pussy. She’s a little thin for my tastes, but all that soft, pale skin covers muscle. The girl sees gym time—or martial arts time. That much was crystal clear when we took her from her place.
Candice was a hellcat when I came up from behind her. Could smell her fresh from the shower scent.
Smell her fear.
Turning my wrist, I check out the time—straight-up midnight. With an exhausted exhale, I walk around to the other side of the bed and, still naked, slip in beside her.
Candice Arlington can kick my ass. But for tonight, I want to pretend she can't.
The drugs I gave her are a special cocktail from Doc. Part pain meds, part sleep aide.
Candice hardly moves when I roll the hippie T-shirt down from around her wrists to just over her tits.
I tuck her in beside me.
I don't analyze why it matters if she gets cold or not—or why I shield her with my body while she sleeps.
*
Candice
“Miss Candi!”
The shrill young voice pierces the cocoon of warmth.
Protection.
Safety.
I try to roll over, and pain thrums through me. I gasp awake.
Memories crowd inside my head. My recent history of getting beat up, kidnapped and fucking the guy in charge of it all slides through my mind in a breathless handful of seconds.
My eyes slam open then close.
“Miss Can—!” The voice is cut off abruptly.
Arms that were secure around me leave. The bed depresses beside me, then the comforting warm weight beside me is gone.
I blink my eyes open, momentarily disoriented. Vince's basement space comes into focus, and I meet the stare of an enraged hazel gaze, like embers burning bright-green leaves.
The redhead. Storm.
Adrenaline thrills through me, and I jerk back, nearly falling out of the bed.
I suck in breath from the pain the movement cost me, and that hurts the rib worse. I want to put a hand to where it hurts.
I need both hands.
“What the fuck?” A gravelly voice says from right behind me.
Viper.
I know it'll hurt, and I do it anyway. Flashing my bare ass, I throw myself backward, coming away from the covers as Storm lands across the bed, reaching for me.
His reach is long.
Panic flares. Can't make it.
Strong fingers grab my shirt.
Shit!
He yanks me toward him by the collar, and I kick with everything I've got at the center of his body.
I scream, because the movement robs me of breath, and I pant, because breathing deeply isn't an option.
“Bitch!” he hisses, and his fist rises, looming for a frozen moment of time like a flesh asteroid.
Another hand captures his wrist midair. It’s just as large, just as strong. A hand that was everywhere on my body just hours ago. In my body.
“Don't touch her,” Viper growls.
I scoot against the pillows of the bed as a naked Viper squares off with the taller, and much younger, Storm.
Somehow, despite the size disparity, my money's on Viper.
“What the fuck, Prez?” he says in a voice gone low with anger. “Are you fucking her?” He sweeps his free arm at me, not bothering to look my direction.
Viper bares his teeth. “What if I am?”
Storm barks a laugh. “She's half-naked.” Storm drops the arm Viper is holding and lets go. “Fuck, I'll take a crack at her if that's what we're doing—riding the pussy train.” His eyebrows shoot up.
Rape. It's a multi-layered concept.
I exchanged my body for freedom, and a greater purpose. But that's different from someone taking something I own.
Grabbing my ankles, Storm jerks me toward him. He hurts my rib with the motion, and I scream, my fingers latching onto his throat with a vise grip, my other arm tight against my injured side.
But it wouldn't have mattered. Viper punches him in the temple.
Once.
Hard.
Storm shakes his head like a bull, trying to fling me away in the process.
I tighten my grip exactly as I'm supposed to.
Storm stops breathing, because my hands are that strong. I've worked hard to make them so.
“Candice, stop.”
I find I can't. When a man means me harm, I must do him harm first.
It's just a Candice rule. I never bend it.
Viper sweeps me against him, and I have to let Storm go or risk taking him with me.
Storm has sunk to his knees. Hand at his throat, he gives Viper an accusing glare. “You hit me over a bitch.”
Viper shakes his head; I feel the motion against my back. “I hit you because I'm not a rapist, and you're not gonna be, either.”
He looks up at Viper. “You voted with the rest of us. You said we were going to make her talk and then get rid of her.”
I must make some noise because Viper sets me down, and I can't get the shirt to pull down to cover my exposed female bits.
God.
Storm stares at me. Not at my face. At my vagina.
Viper notices and picks up my yoga pants, sans panties. “Put this on.”
I do, as quickly as a person can with a broken rib. Not fast enough for me.
“What the fuck, Viper?” He gives me a look of blatant disgust. “Sleeping with the fucking enemy doesn't cover it, and what? You just had to get laid that bad?”
“No,” Viper says. “We have the wrong woman, and things just…”
I turn and look at him, wondering at the pause in his words.
“Got away from us.”
“You're saying this lethal bitch let you fuck her?”
I speak for the first time, hiking my chin defiantly. “I did let him fuck me.”
Storm glares at me. “I want to end you. Cunts like you shouldn't be allowed to breathe air.”
“She's not what you think, and we're going to let her go.”
Storm's lips part. “I am not letting this evil bitch out of my sight.”
We stare at each other, then I say, “I think you're overconfident. What are you? Twelve?”
He moves around the bed so fast, I barely have time to crane my neck to meet his glare.
I hold my position. Because I'm just that stubborn.
“You came into my home.” I put my hand between my breasts. “Attacked me, and took a ward of the state who was in my temporary care. I reacted as I needed to.” I lift a shoulder.
Shit, I've said too much.
His fists hang at his sides like hammers of punishment waiting to fall anywhere they can on my body.
But I'm not afraid.
There's nothing he can do to me that hasn't been done before. I will persevere.
I don't kid myself. Storm would do all the things his eyes promise if Viper wasn't standing at my back.
But the only male I really trust to protect me is searching frantically for me even as I stand here between two MC riders.
“And I watched you.” He pokes me in my chest, hard. The gesture hurts the rib even though a foot separates the areas. “You took down a brother as you were trying to hand off a defenseless kid.”
Viper steps between us, putting me protectively behind him. “That's enough. Don't ever touch her again.”
I step slightly around Viper to take in the scene, and though he doesn't push me behind him again, his eyes flick to me in clear warning.
Storm meets Viper's eyes, and I feel like the valley between two volcanoes. “You gonna call church on this, Prez?” He says Viper’s MC title with a sneer. “Because I got to tell ya, I think the guys aren't going to respect you even a little bit for this.”
“This is my business now.”
“So your business is tripping on your dick and falling into this pedophile bitch's snatch?”
He needs manners. Badly.
I take a step back and move around Viper, shoving Storm using all my weight. I don't weigh much, but training and momentum can do what lack of leverage and mass can't.
Storm staggers backward as I stop breathing from doing a stupid move like that.
Worth. It.
He roars like a demented lion and comes at me. I sidestep, taking the limb he offers as he strides toward me, and I sweep my foot.
Storm goes down and jerks me with him.
I move into the embrace, which is the exact opposite of what he anticipates. Slamming an elbow into his throat, I arrest my fall with my weight balanced on his Adam's apple.
He makes a sound somewhere between a cough and choking.
My rib is just a constant mass of grinding pain now.
Little feet race down the steps. For a moment, Calem's large brown eyes are round at the sight of a big guy on his ass, gasping for air. Then he's running to me and throwing himself into my arms.
I pick him up, doing a lot of my own gasping, hugging him.
He hugs me back, and it hurts so bad.
Feels so good.
*
“You don't have no clothes on, mister,” Calem says to Viper.
Viper looks down at his body and snorts. “Nope,” he agrees, crossing his arms.
He's wearing a wristwatch, I note. I laugh, trying to keep my eyes on his face.
His attention shifts to me. “That's incident number two”—he lifts two fingers—“that you've hurt one of my boys.”
We stare at each other as Storm regains his wind on the ground.
“Only the rapists and woman-beaters. The rest you don't have to worry about.”
Viper sighs. “He comes on strong.”
Comes on strong? Now it's my turn to give him a disbelieving look. My rib is throbbing, and I'm starved. And Mr. Twatwaffle just got to his hands and knees. “That expression is too mild for him.” I toss my thumb in Storm's direction.
“Probably.”
Calem shifts in my hold, and I release him but draw him against my hip. “Stay close.”
“I want to go, Miss Candi.” He takes in the two men.
I look at it from his perspective. Two grown men, one naked and one obviously getting his shit together on the floor after a traumatic turn.
It's not a comfortable situation.
Viper points at Storm. “You stay away from her, and I'll take care of shit.”
“That's a bad word,” Calem points out.
“Yup,” Vince says and grabs some jeans off the floor. He pulls them on, hiking them up, and buttons the fly, commando.
Storm stands, touching his throat. “This isn't over.” His finger doesn't shake as he points it at me. “You're not going to keep running kids.”
I can say this much. “I'm not. It's not what it looks like.”
“Clearly,” he says, gesturing at the bed with his hand. “It's so what it looks like, bitch.”
“Get out.” Viper jerks his chin at the door leading up the stairs. “We'll figure shit out later.”
Storm gives me a final look full of dark promise.
I've seen plenty of those before. I have my own. I don't have to explain why I slept with his Prez. I would do it again.
Just not for the reasons I should.
Chapter 12
Viper
The front door to the cabin shudders in its frame as Storm slams it. The front porch steps creak, and a few seconds later, the engine of a Harley-Davidson Fat Boy bike roars to life.
Spraying gravel rains down, pinging off the steps as he flies down the long curved driveway that leads to the rural highway at the end of my drive.
His exit out of here is clear. What's not clear is why Storm came without Wring. Why he didn't text first. He's been a problem since patching in last month. Thought I could handle his style of posturing. Thought I'd seen it all. Dealt with it all.
Maybe not.
“Now what?” Candice asks.
I turn, still naked up top. Don't know where I left my shirt. Whatever.
I give Candice a narrow look. “You going to fight me?”
Sure the fuck hope not. I scan her body, wishing for round two.
The kid pulls on the hem of her stretched-out shirt. “Let's go,” he whispers.
“Hey,” I say, keeping one eye on Candice in case she tries to cold-cock me. I crouch in front of the kid. “Calem, right?”
He nods. He's got brown eyes the size of saucers in a cute face. Looks like he might have seen a few things in the past.
Probably why he got pegged by the ring of kiddie pervs—not enough folks giving shits about him to notice him disappearing.
“How about some breakfast?”
Slowly, he nods. “Ya got pancakes?”
I nod, and his gaze shifts to Candice. “Need to feed Miss Candi too.”
He looks up at her. We both do.
She's tiny, even from my vantage point, crouched like I am.
“Okay.” She shrugs. “With you two ganging up on me, what choice do I have?” But her face is pinched, eyes tight.
Needs more drugs.
“You scoot up there, pal,” I say, “and we'll be right up after you.”
Candice frowns, a question on her face.
Kid races up the stairs.
I stand, taking her into my arms before she can protest. Gently, I press my body into hers, pinning her against the wall.
“What are you doing, Viper? Just let us go. Don't try to sugarcoat what's happened.”
I kiss the spot between her jawbone and collarbone. Lick it. Suck on it.
One of her hands makes its way into my short hair. “What are you doing?” Candice asks a second time.
“I'm not letting you go.”
Sliding my hands under her ass, I lift her, pressing my cock between her pussy lips.
“I see that,” she says breathlessly. “But I need to finish something, and I need Calem to do it.”
My eyes open, and I pull her so close that a sheet of paper couldn't fit between us, touching my forehead to hers. “You're not actually working for these fucking pervs.” It's part statement, part question.
“No! God no.”
I hold her stare, the beautiful gold of hers unblinking. “What are you in this, Candice? Because I'm going to have to explain to the club why I was trying to clean up our territory and, instead, went with my gut and screwed you.” I move my cheek against her like I’m scent-marking her. “And why I can't let you go, no matter who or what you are.”
The moment of silence has weight, her body warm against mine.
“I can't say.”
Slowly, I lower Candice to the floor. “Then there's nothing here if there isn't any trust.” I move my finger between our bodies then rest a palm on the wall beside her head. Using my other hand, I pick up a piece of the darkest red hair I've ever laid eyes on, moving it between my fingers. Feels like silk. Like a woman that's not afraid of her gender. Candice might be tough, but her packaging is all female.
But I beat down a Road Kill brother for a woman we fingered as bad.
Fuck, I voted to torture and kill her. Said I was in charge of the doing of the deed. It chills me to the bone that I came this close to letting Storm and Wring handle it without my involvement.
I bend over her, and her hair smells vaguely of shampoo, me, and sex. The sex we had.
Pulling her into my arms, I admit, “I'm fucked up.”
She pulls away just enough to tip her head back, meeting my eyes. “Not as fucked up as I am.”
I search her eyes like I'm mining for treasure. If Candice Arlington is a liar, she's a damn fine one. My instincts haven't steered me wrong yet.
My fingers thread her hair, balling it into my fist, and I pull her forward, my lips crashing into hers.
Groaning, she slides her arms around my neck.
Finally, I force myself to pull away. “If you leave this place, I can't guarantee your safety. Every brother wants you dead. They think you're deep in this.”
“I am deep.” A single tear slides down her face.
I grip her upper arms. “Fucking tell me what the hell your role is in this.”
Candice shakes her head, looking down.
“They got something on you? What is it?” Fuck it. “Let me protect you.”
Leaning down, I put my face close to hers. Releasing her arm, I bang my palm against the wall, shaking a picture not far away. “Goddammit! Let me help you.” My voice lowers to a growl.
What the fuck do they have on her?
She cups my face, and something deep inside me begins to unravel—disconcerting as fuck.
“I don't need a white knight, Vince Morgan. I need you to back down, give me time.”
Running a fingertip down her neck, I slide it between her breasts. “How much time?” I whisper.
“Enough.”
Our eyes lock. “Can't promise anything. The men want what you know, and they want you dead.” I stick a thumb between my pecs.
“And you?” A mahogany eyebrow arches, and I have a sudden strange sensation that I've seen her before. Can't shake it. The expression niggles at my memory. I'd never forget it, though. Meeting her. I dismiss it.
“And me what?”
“Do you want me dead?” she whispers the question like she's afraid of the answer.
This one's easy. I shake my head. The idea of this vibrant woman not breathing makes my guts a hot, slick mass inside me. Somehow, the intensity of emotion I feel for Candice reminds me of Colleen.
And that scares me more than all of it together.
That's when I know there might be such a thing as love at first sight. Like my body chose for me. Then my brain reluctantly followed, and like a fucking traitor, my heart decided.
Unfortunately, it's not all about me. It's about what's on the line. I am the president of the Road Kill MC. It's not just a title. It's a duty.
I know what I have to do.
God knows, I don't want to. But it's the only thing I can do for now.
“No. I don't want you dead,” I answer truthfully. I don't have the balls to tell her what I really want. Don't have the balls to admit it to myself.