by Jordan Marie
I just stand there. I couldn’t tell you for how long. A few minutes, maybe longer, I keep standing there, touching my lips and staring at a closed door. All the time, in my head, I’m trying to figure out how I feel about Michael’s declaration, because only one thing is sure about all of it. Michael didn’t sound happy about it at all.
50
Beast
What the fuck was I thinking? Kissing Hayden was the single most, stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. That’s saying a lot considering I let Jan lead me around by the nose for fucking years. I’d like to say it happened because she said she didn’t see me as a man, but the truth is I’ve been thinking about kissing Hayden for days. I never should have done it though, because I can still taste her.
It’s the next day, I’ve barely slept. I didn’t even drink. Instead, I walked the perimeter of Hayden’s house. When I wasn’t doing that, I sat in the dark remembering the feel of her ass in my hands and her legs wrapped around me. Her taste is haunting me. A mixture of sex and honey, more addicting than anything I’ve ever encountered in my life. I’m only sure of two things at this point. I’m in deep shit when it comes to Hayden Graham. I need to stay away from her, because she deserves much better than me. Maggie deserves better than me. Hell, if I could figure out a way to protect them both without getting close to them at this point…I would.
The other thing I’m sure of is that my dick is most assuredly not dead. I’ve been hard since Hayden wrapped her legs around me. I’ve been hard all night, remembering the feel of her body and the taste of her lips. It’s the next day and my cock is still demanding attention. Attention he is not getting.
I down the last of my coffee, draining my cup. Hayden left for work two hours ago. I know because I watched her out the window like a fucking pervert. She didn’t even look towards the barn. Is she running scared after the kiss? Fuck, why wouldn’t she? Why I had to force the issue, I don’t fucking know. She probably won’t let me back in her house—not that I would blame her. Hell, it wasn’t that long ago she suffered a panic attack that scared the shit out of me. There’s no way I should have touched her, pulled her body against my hard cock so I could press against the heat of her, kneaded her ass with my fingers, and drank from her mouth like a fucking man dying of thirst. Thinking about it now sends a shudder of need through my body.
I reach down to adjust my cock, which is throbbing. If I was another man I would have pushed Hayden up against the wall and fucked the hell out of her. Fucked her so hard she would have felt me for days. Fucked…Hayden…a pregnant and obviously emotionally scarred, Hayden. Jesus.
I’ve got to get a handle on shit. I need to be clear headed to deal with the threat of the Dwellers. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t let my guard down when it comes to Hayden and Maggie. I need them safe. That’s the reason I ended up jumping in my truck as Hayden disappeared down the road this morning. I followed her, staying far enough behind, she wouldn’t have an easy time of detecting me. When I was satisfied that she made it to work safely, I came back home. Yet, I’ve been worrying nonstop since I got back. I would have done better to just campout in the diner today.
Frustrated with myself, I pick up my phone to call Skull. I let it ring until it turns over to voicemail. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the fucker was giving me payback for ignoring his calls. Can’t say as I blame him. I need to spend the day doing something that will exhaust me. Working until the last thing I can think about is fucking Hayden. Fucking anyone. It might not be that it’s just Hayden, maybe it’s because I’ve been so long without sex. Even as I think it, I know I’m lying. It’s Hayden I want. It’s just as I feared, she has snuck under my defenses somehow. I should figure out how to stop it before it gets worse.
Maybe I could fix Hayden’s front porch. The damn floor is swaying. It’d be dangerous if she walks on it; it could collapse. If she fell, it could hurt the baby. I’ll need to run into town and get some wood and work on the supports underneath the porch first. I haven’t really eaten yet either. Maybe I could swing by the diner for food…
Motherfucker.
51
Hayden
Charlie is giving me funny looks. I know it can’t be my imagination. I feel like I have a giant sticker across my forehead that reads: “I kissed a boy, and I think I liked it.” It’s crazy. There’s no way she could know. Her look probably has more to do with the fact that I have bags the size of suitcases under my eyes because I didn’t sleep at all last night. I tossed and turned thinking about Michael, thinking about him kissing me, wondering if he liked it, wondering why I liked it so much, wishing he wouldn’t have stopped, glad that he did…the list kept going.
Charlie might also be giving me those looks because I’m clumsy as can be today. I’ve broke two plates, I’ve dropped silverware, and I accidentally dropped a piece of pie in old man Gilbert’s lap. Luckily, he just laughed about it. I might be getting those looks from her because every time the bell rings to signal the door is being opened, I jerk around to see who is walking in. I’m alternating between dreading and wishing Michael would come in. That’s why when it rings and I look up to see him walk in, I freeze. Which might have been okay. It might have totally gone unnoticed, if not for the fact that even though my body locked up and I couldn’t seem to move, I was refilling a glass for poor Mr. Gilbert—a glass of very cold ice water.
“Tarnation, Hayden! What’s going on with you today!” Mr. Gilbert yells, jumping up just as three blocks of ice drop from the pitcher onto his lap. Shit.
“Oh no. Mr. Gilbert, I’m so sorry. Let me get some towels!” I run to the counter, my face so hot that I know I have to be glowing in the dark. I can see Michael from the corner of my eye as he walks past me and goes to sit down in a corner booth. “I really am sorry, Mr. Gilbert. I’ll pay for your lunch. I’m such a klutz today. Please, forgive me.”
“Girl, you froze my damn balls!” he yells loudly, which does nothing to keep me from being further embarrassed.
“My girl’s good at that, aren’t you, Hayden?” A male voice says at the door.
A minute ago, I could feel the heat on my face. A minute ago, my biggest problem was getting Mr. Gilbert to calm down and figure out what to say to Michael. Now, my problems are much bigger. Any embarrassment I feel, any heat from a blush on my face is gone now. In its place is white, because all color has drained from me, and in the place of the heat is a cold dread that seeps into my system and causes my body to break out in a sweat. I slowly, agonizingly slow, lift my head to see Blade standing in front of me. He’s alone, though beyond him I see at least three of his men.
I jerk my head back to the monster at the door. I don’t want to see if I know the men with him. Chances are I do. Chances are those memories will do nothing to help me beat down the panic I’m feeling inside right now. And I’m definitely feeling the panic.
Blade hasn’t changed in the months since I’ve seen him. I look at him now and wonder how I ever could have thought he was good looking. He’s tall. Though not as tall as Michael. I’d say around 6’4” or so. He looks a lot like Pastor Sturgill. His sandy-blonde hair is longer though, and falls to his shoulders. It has a natural wave to it, and there’s one curl that no matter what he does refuses to go back with the rest of his hair. It falls over his forehead and gets in his eye. I used to think that was sweet. I find nothing about Blade sweet now.
I used to love the blue of his eyes. Now the blue seems lifeless, dull. There’s nothing warm in them. I know, because I’ve seen the demon that lurks under the skin of this man. He’s got a tattoo of a snake that is coiled around his neck. That’s new. He didn’t have that before. Too bad, if he had that, I wouldn’t have been attracted to him at all. I can’t help but think how fitting it is on him now. He’s wearing his club-cut, with a plain black t-shirt underneath. His arms are covered in ink. I used to find that sexy. Michael has tattoos, but his are mostly military, they don’t seem…sinister. Blade’s entire body is cove
red in ink, but they don’t interest me anymore. They make my skin crawl.
“Your kind ain’t welcome here,” Charlie growls.
“Hush, old woman. I’m here to see my woman. Hayden, you haven’t spoke to me. Is that any way to greet your man?” he asks, and his words punch me as hard as his hand once slapped me.
I can feel the panic edge up. I fight to beat it down. I don’t want to give into it. I did the other day when Michael’s friends all crowded in my kitchen. The men were standing by the doors and they were wearing their club gear. Memories from the past hit me all at once, and I couldn’t fight it down. I will be stronger than that today. I was strong last night. I kissed Michael. That has to mean something. Right? I tighten my hand into a fist, afraid I’m not going to be able to pull this off, and that’s when I feel Michael come to stand beside me. Instantly, I feel calmer. The fear is still there, but I can manage. I can manage.
“I’m not your woman. Or did you forget how that ended? Because I haven’t. I have scars to prove it,” I tell him, and though my voice is not as loud as I would have liked, I congratulate myself because it’s not trembling. I don’t sound weak.
“That’s what happens when you’re a lying bitch. But you were also keeping secrets from me weren’t you, Hayden?”
“I wasn’t the only one,” I remind him, and that’s when the demon comes close to the surface. I see him, just for a second. My body tightens as I wait for him to strike out. I can feel that fear wash through me again, but with one touch it’s gone. I look down at my hand which is held in a tight fist. Michael is carefully unlocking my fingers. One by one he peels them back, and I stop and watch him, my hand going slack in his. Once he’s uncoiled my fingers and brushed his thumb over the indentions my nails made when they bit into my skin, he takes his hand in mine. Just like that. Michael holds my hand. In front of everyone…proudly.
“Beast. They told me you were in these parts.”
“I told your boys the other day to give you a message. I wasn’t trying to hide,” Michael says. I can feel the tension radiating through his hand, but his words seem laid back. He seems and sounds perfectly at ease. The only way I know for sure that’s a lie is the way the muscles in his hand are stiff and pulsing against my skin.
I take my thumb and brush against the large scar that runs from the knuckle on up to his wrist. I rake the pad of my thumb back and forth. I can’t say if it is to calm me or Michael, but it seems to work for both.
“They told me. Did you get my message?” he asks, and I look at Michael in surprise. Had he been talking with Blade’s men again? I hadn’t seen them around the house. I don’t want them around the house.
“I figure you know I did,” Beast says. “When’s our meeting?”
“I don’t like the way you’re touching my woman. A man could take offense to that,” Blade says, and I instantly want to throw up. I have to forcibly swallow down the bile that rises up at his words.
“He might, if he was a real man,” Michael says, and my heart speeds up, because Blade isn’t one to let something like that pass.
“You filthy motherfucker! I think it’s time I teach you about respect,” Blade snarls, and he takes a step toward Michael.
“Get behind me, Hayden,” he directs me, letting go of my hand, and widening his stance as if he’s preparing for battle.
“How sweet that you want to protect my left-overs. Didn’t think the Blaze wanted to live off my table scraps. It’s okay. You’re welcome to the cunt. Just as soon as I get that split-tail she’s carrying,” Blade hurls, and I cry out at the thought of him ever getting near my daughter.
I step behind Michael, my hands going around my waist. I’m having trouble keeping a different kind of panic at bay now. Why would Blade want my daughter? He’s not the fatherly type, he doesn’t care about anyone, and I know that better than most. Why would he do this? I jerk when I feel arms go around me. Old man Gilbert is there pulling me away from Michael.
“Let’s get you safe girl. That man doesn’t need you distracting him,” he says, and I walk backwards with him, but I keep my eyes trained on Michael.
52
Beast
I’ve made a life of being an enforcer for one of the most feared clubs around. You don’t do that by losing your cool. I’ve always locked myself down. I attack and in battle I’m deadly cold. Hearing Blade talk about Hayden as his, brings those emotions to a boil, but I have a handle on it. I do. I’ve got it contained, and I won’t let him get me rattled. Until he has the balls to refer to Maggie as a “split-tail.” I know the saying. It’s something used often back home. An offensive term to call a girl, as if they are somehow below a man. I’ve never had respect for the fuck in front of me, but if that’s how he can even think about his own daughter, he deserves to die and it’s in that moment I lose sight of being level-headed in battle. All I can think about is ripping out his tongue and letting Hayden feed it to him. I want to end the son of a bitch so he never gets his hands on Hayden or Maggie. This fuck doesn’t deserve them. He never did.
I charge at Blade with a growl, and I guess that was the last thing he was expecting, because the motherfucker’s eyes go round, and he stops advancing towards me. It doesn’t matter, I’ve had it with him. He scrambles to throw a punch, but he wasn’t prepared soon enough. My hand goes around his neck, and I squeeze the shit out of it, picking him up off the ground with just my hold. I push forward, despite him clawing at my hand and kicking me. I stop only when I’ve slammed him against the wall.
He’s clawing harder at my hands, but I’m bigger, and I can’t remember a time when I’ve had this much anger coursing through me. It’s beating inside of me like a living thing. When I tried to save Annabelle the largest emotion I could grasp was fear. It consumed me, roared through me and fucking suffocated me from the inside out. Anger is much more preferable, so I let it have free reign.
“You don’t touch them,” I growl, my voice sounding otherworldly, like a demon possessed and maybe I am. I’ve lived in Hell so long, it would make sense. “You don’t lay one fucking finger on them.”
“They’re mine,” he manages to gurgle out, and I tighten my hold on him even more, satisfied when his face starts losing color, only to slowly be replaced by a darkening hue. I want the asshole blue. I want his last breath finished. I couldn’t save Annabelle, but I can make sure this fucker never touches Hayden or Maggie ever again.
“That’s where you’re wrong asshole. Hayden and Maggie are under the protection of the Devil’s Blaze, but more importantly they’re under my protection. They’re my property, and no one touches what’s mine and gets to breathe air.”
I increase the pressure on my hand. The fucker is getting zero air now and that’s what he deserves. I can feel his tendons curved against my hand, the solidness of the bone. It will be easy to snap his neck and that’s my goal. Even when I hear the door to the diner open and the sound of boots on the tiled floor. I know Blade’s men are there to have his back, and I’ve made the mistake of leaving mine unprotected. It doesn’t matter. I don’t give two shits that I’m about to die. I’ve been wanting death for as long as I care to remember, the only difference is that now, before I go, I can make sure I take Blade with me.
My body jerks as the retort of a shotgun blast rings out. Leave it to these motherfuckers to bring a fucking shotgun to the party. I wait for the white-hot, searing pain of a gunshot to rip through me. I’m surprised when it doesn’t, but I don’t take my eyes off of Blade. I take pleasure in the fact that I can see a blood vessel pick that exact moment to burst in his eye. Any second now…
“I won’t have you damn cockroaches in my diner. You don’t move,” Charlie cries out, and they must have not listened because she shoots again. “The next one won’t be a warning shot. You’ll lose your nuts and berries if you take one more step,” she tells them, and I can hear Blade’s men in the background, but I don’t give a fuck. Blade’s going to die here. “Michael, let the asshole go,” I hea
r Charlie tell me, and I can’t believe it. I don’t respond but I give her a grunt. “I mean it, Michael. Let him go and let them leave. Hayden doesn’t need more violence, and you’re worth more to her here, than on the inside of a jail cell. She’s in bad shape right now,” she says, and her words kind of reach me, but I’m lost in a thirst for blood.
I want him dead. This should be the one thing I can do. You don’t leave the head on a wounded snake. That just gives him more time to strike.
“Michael. Hayden needs you. Now.” Charlie yells, and I concentrate on those words and turn to find Hayden.
She’s standing in the corner with an old man standing beside her, but she doesn’t see him. Her body is shaking and though it doesn’t look as severe as the other day, I know she’s lost in another attack. I know she’s back inside of her own hell, and I can’t leave her there. I take my hand from Blade and back away from him a couple of steps. He immediately drops to his knees, starts coughing and gasping for breath. The disappointment I feel is immense, as the color starts slowly leeching back into his face.
“This…ain’t…over,” Blade gasps, his voice is so hoarse it’s hard to make out. “I’ll end you,” he vows, as he makes toward the door. His men have to help him to stand and at least that gives me satisfaction.
“Bring it motherfucker. I’ve taken worse than you down without blinking,” I tell him truthfully, already turning away and walking to Hayden. I have to get her out of her head. I have to bring her back to me.
“You’ll pay for interfering, old woman,” one of the men growls from behind me, and I hear another gunshot go off and the cry of a man. I hope she killed him, I think, only to feel disappointment when I hear Charlie.