Winter's Absolution (Obsidian Blades MC Book 1)

by Kristina Canady

  “I can’t─” The sound of that gelding almost screaming a haunting sound stops us both dead in our tracks. “Fuck! Oscar! You grab em’, pass them through the gate, and I’ll run them up here.” She doesn’t even wait for me before she takes off, toward the sound. Her love for these animals trumped whatever fear she might have.

  I’m hot on her heals as we slip and slide down the hill. We can barely see through the pelting rain. She almost loses her balance but I catch her by elbow on reflex. Those dangerous lips of hers crook in a half smile amidst the madness. In that instance, the world slows in the chaos and my heart beats faster. That is the moment I know my dumb ass is in serious trouble. However, it doesn’t last long because the minute she realizes that my hand is touching her, she briskly yanks away, and turns to the scared horse backed into a corner, the fence on either side of him aflame, and fear cementing his hooves in the mud.

  Oscar doesn’t realize that if he were to bolt straight ahead, he could escape the flames licking at his rear. Luna stops at the gate as promised and I head in, straight for the beast, beginning a dance of my own as I inch toward him. He rears back, crying in fear, almost sending himself backwards into the flames. I jump out of the way, waiting for him to land back on all fours with a deadening thud. His nostrils flare as he sizes me up, not knowing who or what to trust. Training calls are usually a moot point in extreme situations, but I try them anyway. He’s heard them a thousand times in the ring; using a firm but low voice, stepping closer as my feet near, I lure him in. The flames dance wildly around us, the heat making it hard to get close, burning with impossible height as the rain still falls. It’s as if someone coated the posts with an accelerant. The young animal paces wildly back and forth, still not understanding that he can just come forward toward me to escape.

  “Oscar! Come on!” Luna bellows, the animal picking his head up and locking onto her, the distraction is all that I need to lunge, snag his halter, and pull him forward. The trance that had locked him in finally breaks as he jogs with me, right toward the gate. In no time, he’s in her care and as her rounded ass jiggles on the way up the hill, toting him along like there isn’t a raging storm taking place all around us. Jesus Christ, isn’t that a metaphor.

  One by one, working effortlessly like a team, we round the horses up and lead them to the barn. The rain finally puts out the fire, only after it thoroughly ate up a few hundred feet of my custom fence. We will be looking into the possibility of that. I wouldn’t put it past the meth heads up the road to still be holding a grudge. After all the beasts are safely inside, I strap a blanket around the last shivering, worn out form and slam the stall door shut. The temperature severely dropped with the weather and even I’m feeling it, which is rare. Heading to the wall panel by the side door, I flip the low level heating system on. Each stall has a sheath heating system for bad days like this. It will help them dry off and stay warm. That rain started feeling like shards of ice pelting our skin. I catch Luna shuffling around her blankets near me, trying to make a giant burrito to crawl in the middle of.

  “Luna, you can’t stay out here tonight, you need to come inside.” Her startled eyes find mine as her mouth opens to protest. The now down pouring ice storm attacks the metal roof in an assault of the senses, putting a finger on the hair thin trigger of my temper.

  “Don’t even start with me, woman! You know damn well I won’t touch ya, and staying out here is gonna make you sick. You just started getting some color back into your cheeks.” And putting some needed weight on her. But that’s beside the point.

  Her hand comes to rest on her hip as it pops to the side, too much damn attitude.

  “If you don’t walk your ass up into that house, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you,” I growl, my face clamping down as I hold open the door for her.

  She opens and shuts her mouth a few times, skeptically sizing me and my threat up.

  “Come on now, get!” I thunder.

  Her stormy grey eyes incredulously throw me the look of death before she huffs and heads to the door. She stops at the threshold, and cocks a brow once more, forcing my eyes to narrow, daring her to test me on this. With an incredulous look, her chin tips up and she marches out.

  Her short lil’ ole legs are working awfully hard as she tries to make her way up to the house ahead of me. She doesn’t seem to care about the rain shifting into pelting hail; she walks with pride and makes no attempt to protect her face. In about two full strides, I’m walking right by her, which just seems to piss her off even more. Thoroughly amused by this, I hold up an arm to shield my face from the painful onslaught, and extending my long legs to pull ahead of her just enough to see her brow furrow and her legs start working with more gusto. Grinning to myself, I slow to her pace before allowing her to climb the few steps to the front porch ahead of me. She’s full of piss and vinegar, and about to yank open the screen door but stops, her fears finally catching up. Her eyes track the way back to where the barn sits, as if we could actually see it, no doubt longing for whatever it is she finds in there. Propping the heavy, custom door open against the howling wind, I flip on a light and motion for her to hurry up and go on in ahead of me

  Like a timid little mouse, she scurries in and stands off to the side of the door, back against the wall, her eyes locked on her surroundings, searching for any threat. I understood that from a personal level, her needing a sense of her surroundings at all times is one of the things that I admire about her. It’s just plain smart instead of some of those women who walk in the room, take up the whole damn space while thinking that it belongs to them. Not Luna, her presence is strong, cunning, and quick in the head. An outsider might say she’s quiet but that’d be a damn lie. Once she gets to know you, she never shuts the hell up. Sauntering in, happy to be in my warm home, I toe my boots off while leaning on the island in the kitchen.

  “It ain’t huge but I have room for you. This here is the open room, ya got the kitchen here and livin’ room with a TV there.” I flip on another light so that she can see. “Down this hall is the rest of it, come on.” I hitch a thumb that way and keep walking, flipping lights on as I go, trying to eliminate any shadows. Her form hovers in the background, not moving from the wall, her chest heaving up and down as she internally struggles. “Here’s the guest bathroom, this will be yours. And across the way here…” I keep talking like it’s nothing, and lean over and flip another switch, illuminating the guest bedroom that hasn’t seen much company since I renovated this place, “…is your room. My room and bath are here in the back.” My voice echoes away from her as the last light is turned on, showing her as much of the place as I can at once, ensuring that there is no boogie man anywhere. “I’ll keep my door shut when I sleep, but you can knock anytime if you need anything. Luna, I keep guns and shit everywhere so don’t be alarmed.” My eyes shift to the island counter as I come back down the hall, hers follow to my piece sitting there. I take it a sign of trust. “Anyways, I’m goin’ to go get changed then will make dinner. There’s some more clothes and shit that Bex brought by for you. All the doors lock, even the bathroom.”

  “No shit?” she smarts uncomfortably.

  Stunned, my gaze jumps to her grey saucers. Shaking my head, not offended in the least, I head into my room and close the door on her, a smirk still playing on my lips. Can’t remember the last time I smiled this damn much, best not make a habit out of it. Stepping into my bathroom, I flip open the medicine cabinet and begin going down the line in my evening ritual. If she’s going to be up in here, I sure as hell can’t risk any mental freak outs; she might pick up a weapon and turn it on me for sure. This is going to be a long ass winter.

  Luna

  As the sound of his lock clicking into place registers, my pulse lowers a notch, and my muddy feet begin their tentative trek toward the bathroom. My eyes bounce around as I go, taking the space in. It is a simple country home, the front area one big open space with an elaborate, dark granite island dividing the kitc
hen and living room. Sure, I contemplated going back outside the minute he turned his attention elsewhere. Let’s be honest, it’s too damn cold out there. Also, don’t doubt for one minute that he’d come right out and drag me back. My bones are frozen, and my sweats are saturated with pasture muck, leaving a trail that resembles a slug as I ease down the hall, weary of it all. Jesus, you think with the way my damn ticker acts under all of this stress that I would have keeled over years ago. The nearer I get to the possibility of warmth, the worse my teeth begin to chatter. Even though I’ve spent entirely too much time pondering the interior of this man cave while slinking in the barn, I don’t bother with snooping. Ducking straight into the bathroom, I shut myself in. A deep breath blows out from my lungs as the destroyed clothes are shucked onto the floor. Not sure what to do with the muddy heap, I kick it into a corner as my frozen fingers flip on the shower knob. I’d love to take the time to marvel at the miracle of indoor plumbing, but my feet are completely numb and their color is off. My hands push back the shower curtain to get in, but I pause, catching my naked form in the large mirror and freeze. I barely recognize myself. Greasy, stringy black hair, bags under eyes, my naked body riddled with scars and bruises all at different stages of healing. But there are a few things I haven’t seen for a couple of years coming into view… color and roundness to my cheeks, thickness returning to my breasts and hips. A few weeks of not being beat and someone cooking for me almost has me back to that girl that was taken. Who am I kidding; she died on that cement floor in hell long ago.

  Running my fingertips under the falling spray, the haze becomes denser as the temperature reaches perfect, the heat sending a shudder throughout my being. Throwing the scarred girl in the reflection one last glance as the fog begins to creep across the glass, distorting her ghostly outline; I slap back the curtain further. Anger pricks along my skin as the pads of my feet touch down in the pooled, hot water in the tub. A hiss escapes my lips as I ease into the onslaught and slide the curtain closed. Turning my back to the spray, it runs over me as emotion percolates from the dark place I thought I had it compartmentalized in.

  One by one, feelings and thoughts better left alone battle ram into my consciousness. My stomach sinks, and chest burns as I drop to my knees, a wail trying to erupt from my body. It’s impossible to stop. Walking into this house and being gifted some basic human rights after going without for so long is breaking down my survival defenses. I freaking hate crying, yet here I am, overcome with gratitude for this hot shower, and that crazy ass man in the other room, coupled with anger that it ever came to this. How the hell did I go from being a bubbly, doted over little girl who was always surrounded by love to this pile of tortured flesh, in the middle of nowhere, in a random man’s shower, virtually alone. Grief washes through me as my cheek comes to rest on the tubs floor, the water pounding my back. The emotional fit racks my body as I cry for that little girl and for the woman I never got the chance to become. Hell, for the woman I will never be after being marred.

  Luna, you are safe now, that experience is over. A voice tells me. I am safe, I am finally free, I actually made it through the tunnel of hell and am in the light… yet I’ve never wanted to die more than I do right now. Unable to stop the pain or the horrendous sounds escaping my throat, the sobbing kicks up to another level. So many of the things I never would let myself feel while locked up come crashing through, demanding to be looked at, felt... and understood. They say that most who want to take their own lives aren’t at risk when they are at rock bottom… it’s when they are on the way back up, because they never want to feel that low again. I never really understood that as well as I do right now, in this very moment.

  Leo’s gun sitting on kitchen counter flashes through my mind. It would be easy, go get the gun, run outside, jump in that giant dumpster thing he has on the other side of the barn so I don’t make a mess and end it. End it all. End the pain, the shit that never stops tormenting my brain. What the hell do I even have to live for? Everyone I ever loved has died, and my mother is probably out chasing some sort of impossible high.

  Seriously, practically speaking, I don’t even really exist anymore. This would be simply removing my physical matter from this godforsaken plane so I can move on to the next, finally. By taking my life, I can end this constant fear that never stops disturbing me. This last thought jumps on the spinning wheel in my head and starts going around and around, each time it passes, the anger wells again. Round and round the wheel spins, my mind spiraling out of control. My arms slip around myself as I try and hold the seams together because it feels like I might split apart right here. Grief, sadness, anger, and fear… fear… there’s that fucking word again. Something within my being clicks and the wheel stops on one very specific thing.

  I am living in fear because the scum of the earth took advantage of me when I was having a bad day, and was lost in my damn head leaving school one afternoon. I’ve been spending the last few weeks living with animals because of fear, and an idiotic belief that I didn’t deserve better. And now? Now I am cradling myself on the bottom of a goddamn tub contemplating death because those same pieces of shit tried to break me in more ways than I care to relive. They tried to break me for the sheer, sick, fun of it. Well fuck em’, if I march out of here and into that kitchen, grab that gun and end it, that’s as good as letting them win. I’ll be damned if I ever give them the satisfaction. I may not have much to live for at the moment, but I sure do love those animals out there, and all of the beautiful things I see outside on this big piece of property, so that will have to be enough for now. Hopefully, one day, I will learn to love myself as much as them. Fuck you, motherfuckers, I choose me. Luna is worth fighting for, I am worth fighting for. Peeling myself slowly off the tubs surface, I come to a standing position, my back a little straighter. My shoulders roll a few times as I repeat the new mantra, letting it roll through my being, a new resolve to heal past this taking root. I’ve been given a second chance and I’m not wasting it. My body starts to feel a little like my own again as I power through my first real shower in over two years.

  This man even has a damn loofa in here. Excitedly, I lather it up and begin to scrub the filth from my body. Working my way from the toes up, because I’ve never liked doing things the expected way, I end by putting the loofa down and picking up a bottle of the best smelling shampoo I’ve ever taken a whiff of. A groan of delight comes from my belly as I scrub my scalp three times before moving on to the conditioner. In essence, my hands were scrubbing years of filth and replacing it with things that made me feel good. More of the lovely citrus and lavender wafts around as I run the cream from the tips of my hair, working it up to the roots then rinsing it all out. The dried out strands start to feel silky again, such a small thing that means the world. A giant monkey jumps off of my back, and my shoulders feel lighter. I shut the water off and slip out from the safe haven to the giant, fluffy towel waiting on the bar. The thing is huge, and is the size of a damn bathrobe. Drying myself completely, I wrap up in the soft fabric and poke around the eerily clean bathroom. Not that I have much experience with boys, but I thought their bathrooms were supposed to be shitholes.

  Everything seems so sterile in here, clinical like. Popping open the white sink cabinet, I find a basket with a hairdryer and brush, the hair accessories all still in their packaging. Leo really went out and got all this just for me? My cheeks flush, and my heart swells as I excitedly tear into everything. Many moons ago, I used to love to do my hair and little touches of make-up even though I only really ever kicked around in jeans and my favorite pair of chucks. As I plug in the hair dryer and flip the on switch, excitement lights up my pale cheeks, and I begin teaching myself the basics all over again.

  It had been about an hour before I emerge, my child-like wonder keeping me holed up as I reveled in simple pleasures. Creaking open the door, I look up and down the hallway before skittering across to the guest room. Leo wasn’t in sight but his bedroom door was open. Locking myself
into the new treasure trove of things, my toes wiggle in the fluffy carpet as my eyes take in the rustic bedroom. A queen size mattress with a satin, grey comforter and big white pillows is right in front of me. On the bed with a knotty pine headboard, there is a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the sizes looking about right. A matching dresser sits not far away with a big mirror, and the small closet right next to it has its door propped open, displaying a few more pieces of clothing. The nightstand next to the bed has a bear lamp with a thin, leathery shade, a little clock sitting right next to it showing that it is six o’clock in the evening. I can’t even tell you the last time I’ve even seen a clock. My stomach growls and prompts me to move toward the bed, snatching up the clothes there, and quickly donning them. I can explore more later.

  Stealing my nerves, I open the door to the sound of Leo rummaging around the kitchen in a tizzy. A cabinet is slammed shut, followed by the stainless fridge being opened, closed, then opened again. Padding into the open living area, I hover near the beautiful island, my eyes flicking to the gun one last time before settling on him. My head slightly shakes at the crazy thoughts that had passed in the shower.

  “Hope you like leftovers, I ain’t got it in me to do much more than that,” he says over his broad shoulder. Opening one of the containers from the fridge, he takes a whiff, makes a face and dumps the contents in the trash. “Your shower go okay?” He slightly turns his head, his strong masculine profile making me take in a sharp breath before he goes back to the racket.

  Oh God, he probably got an earful of my pity party. Maybe the storm overhead can come in and suck me right out of this place in a tornado or something.

  “Sorry you had to hear all that.” There was no use in pretending that he didn’t. My cheeks heat, why the hell couldn’t he have been outside doing whatever the hell he does when that happened? As if the heavens had an answer, lightning pounds overhead, and the lights flicker a moment.