King’s Wrath

by Nina Levine

  I needed to touch her, needed that contact, but I instinctively knew that that was the last thing Ivy needed. We’d been having sex for five years, and it had taken me a good three years to gain her complete trust. After her traumatic childhood filled with sexual abuse, sex had been hard for her. She wanted physical intimacy with me, but something as simple as my hands on her body had been difficult for her. Touching her during this conversation didn’t feel like the right thing to do, so I pushed my needs aside in an effort to give her what she needed.

  It was fucking hard not to pull her into my arms, though, when she stood in front of me crying.

  “I don’t need that. All I need is you, Ivy, however you want to give yourself to me.” I watched her reaction closely, and when she looked at me like she didn’t believe a word I said, I repeated with greater force, “I want you. I will never ask you to let me do that again or anything else you’re not comfortable with. That shit should never have happened.”

  “But don’t you see, King? It did happen, because rough sex is such an instinctual thing for you. I don’t care what you try to tell me, you liked it. Why should I expect you to spend the rest of your life with me if I’m not willing or able to do things with you that you like?”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. That’s like saying you should be willing to go fishing with me or spend hours working on cars with me simply because I like to do those things.”

  She finally stopped rubbing her arms and dropped her hands to her side. “Those are things I could do with you if you really wanted me to,” she said softly. “This isn’t something I could ever do. When you started squeezing my throat the other night, it hurled me right back to the bad parts of my childhood.” Her voice cracked again, and more tears slid down her cheeks. Madly wiping them away, she continued, “I can’t… I can’t go back there again, King. Not ever.” Her last four words were barely audible—“Not even for you.”

  Ice slithered down my spine. I wasn’t fucking losing her over this. No way would I allow that. I hated that I’d done this to her, and I would find a way to make things right again. But there wasn’t any way in hell she’d be walking away from this relationship.

  Unable to stop myself any longer, I reached for her. Sliding an arm around her waist, I pulled her body to mine. The way she came easily told me I’d done the right thing. “Do you remember the first time we had sex?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  I traced a finger down her cheek. “Remember how you were scared out of your fucking mind? And how I didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her gaze glued to mine.

  Running my finger across her collarbone, I continued, “Let’s back this shit up and forget last weekend. Let me show you just how right we are together. I haven’t needed anything but what you wanted to give for the last five years, and I sure as fuck don’t need it now. I’m more than fucking happy with what we have, Ivy. You are everything I have ever wanted, and I’m not letting you go.”

  Her entire body sighed. I felt it clear as fucking day. It was like she exhaled a breath she’d been holding for a long fucking time. Bringing her hands up to clutch my shirt, she said, “But—”

  I pressed a finger to her lips. “No buts. I’m not backing down on this. And I’m also not backing down on us getting married.”

  She watched me silently for a beat before slowly nodding. “Okay.”

  I then exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

  I learnt a hard lesson the next day. One I’d already learnt at the hands of my biological parents. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that lesson. I’d never fucking forget it again.

  The worst kind of betrayal comes from those you love.

  Ivy’s foster mum, Bethany, and I had always been close. The falling out she’d had with my mum had been challenging for our families, but through it all, she and I had remained solid. Mum had encouraged it; the falling out wasn’t her choice. They’d argued over some seemingly insignificant thing that had then blown up into the kind of argument most relationships struggled to come back from. Mum held out hope, but Bethany had stayed firm—she didn’t want anything to do with her sister again.

  After a night of endless sex, Ivy and I left home early that morning to head to work. I had a busy day ahead of me taking care of a few cleaning jobs Jethro had assigned me. He’d been using me for them a lot more lately. “Cleaning up people’s sins and making sure no fucker finds out what they did is something you’re fucking talented at,” he’d said. What he really meant was that I never hesitated to do the dirty shit others didn’t want to do. Some jobs called for a phone call, others, a bullet. I gave no fucks which, I just did it.

  I’d kissed Ivy goodbye and said, “Call your mum. Tell her we’ve got news for her tonight.”

  She blasted a sexy grin at me. “I could just tell her over the phone. That way we don’t have to leave the house tonight, and you can spend the night between my legs.”

  While that option appealed, I wanted to do this shit right. Bethany deserved more than a phone call for this kind of news. I shook my head. “No, we do it together in person. I’ll swing by home after work to pick you up. After we see her, we’ll drop by Mum’s and tell her and the girls.”

  “You know,” she murmured before kissing me, “for an asshole, you can be thoughtful.”

  I smacked her ass. “I’ll see you tonight.” As I walked towards my bike, I called out, “And Ivy?”

  She looked up as she got in her car. “Yeah?”

  “Take a nap today if you get a chance. You’re gonna need it.” Because the shit I want to do to you tonight will require some fucking stamina.

  She smiled knowingly before pulling out of the driveway. I sat on my bike and watched her drive away. Something had shifted between us last night. She’d opened back up to me and allowed me to peel back another layer of her. The thing with Ivy, though, was that it felt like I still had a thousand layers to get through. She had every piece of me, but I knew I didn’t have all of her. And I fucking wanted every last piece.

  I took care of two jobs that morning and was on my way back to the clubhouse when Ivy called. The way she stumbled over her words told me something was very wrong.

  “King… shit… I, um, fuck….” Her voice trailed off before I heard crying.

  Every instinct I had screamed at me to tread carefully, but I was never good at that. My preference was to invade and interrogate. I was the storm that refused to relent. “What’s going on?” I demanded, my voice harsher than necessary, but fuck, she had me twisted up with unease.

  “Don’t yell at me!”

  “I’m not fucking yelling, Ivy. I’m just—”

  “Mum won’t give us her support to get married,” she blurted. “She wants me to leave you and move back in with her.”

  My body tensed for the fight it knew was coming.

  “What the fuck?” I roared, trying desperately to control both the thoughts raging through my mind and my response to Ivy. “You spoke to her already? Without me?”

  “That’s not the point here, King.”

  She was right, it wasn’t, but it pissed me off that she’d done what I asked her not to. I shoved my fingers through my hair. “What did she say?” Fuck, I’d go over there myself and sort this shit out if I had to. I refused to allow anyone to come between Ivy and me.

  Her hesitation almost caused me to explode, but I managed to keep my frustration in. When she finally answered me, I heard every ounce of distress she was feeling. “She said that you’ve changed since you joined Storm and she doesn’t want me to marry you if you stay in the club.”

  “How the fuck have I changed?”

  “She didn’t say—”

  “You didn’t ask her?”

  “I didn’t get a chance. King—”

  “Why? What the fuck else did she say?”

  “King! This isn’t my fault! I hate that—”

  Fuck it, I was goi
ng over there. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll sort this out.”

  “No! Don’t you go over there! You’ll just make it worse. Let me talk to her again.”

  “It’s me she has a problem with, Ivy, not you. I need to go and see her and find out what’s going on.”

  “Please don’t go. I really think you’ll just upset her.”

  “I’m going now,” I said forcefully. “I’ll call you once it’s done.” I hung up without waiting for her response. Before we got into a fight over it.

  Half an hour later, I stood at Bethany’s front door, fuming with anger over what she’d said. I clenched my fists by my side as I attempted to rein that anger in. This had to be a huge misunderstanding, one that a conversation would solve. Fuck, Bethany had always been there for me. Why would she turn on me now?

  “Zachary,” she said curtly when she opened her door to me. “I don’t know why you are here. I’ve said everything I’m going to say to Ivy.”

  I stared at her in shock. And not fucking much shocked me anymore. Where was the kind woman who’d patched my cuts and bruises when I fell off my bike as a child? Or the woman who’d asked me to look out for her daughter at school when her friends turned against her?

  I didn’t wait for an invitation; I pushed my way into her house as I said, “And now you can say it to me.”

  Bethany’s home had always felt warm to me. Welcoming. Between the multitude of quilts strewn across her well-worn floral couches, the white lacy curtains, lamps dotted all through the house, and dog-eared books piled in every spare cranny, Bethany’s house was more than a building where she raised ten foster kids. It was the home those kids never had a shot at without her. The place they came home to after school, with warmed Milo and homemade cookies waiting on the kitchen table where their foster mum would help them complete their homework. A complete contrast to what they would have come home to at the hands of their own parents.

  She sighed and closed the door after me, following me into the kitchen.

  I turned to her when we reached the kitchen. “You don’t want Ivy with me anymore. Why? What’s changed? And don’t give me any shit about you and Mum. That’s got nothing to do with me and you.”

  Her lips flattened in distaste. Bethany and Mum had been raised strict Catholics, and both hated my swearing. Usually, I tried to respect their wishes, but I didn’t have it in me when I was this worked up.

  “You’ve changed,” she said, as if those two words would be enough to explain her stance. They were far from enough.

  I pushed my shoulders back and demanded, “How?”

  She motioned at the table. “Please sit, Zachary. I don’t want to argue with you over this. I’d rather do it as civilised adults.”

  Fuck that. “I’m not sitting, Bethany. I just want you to tell me what you have against me being with Ivy.”

  Her eyes turned cold, shocking me again. It was a slap in the face, but it was nothing compared to what was coming. “I always sensed the danger in you, always worried that Margreet wouldn’t be able to stop you from becoming who your father’s genes had destined you to be. I’d hoped the love we gave you would be enough, but it wasn’t. I can see that now. I can see that motorcycle club is no good for you, and that the evil there is infecting Ivy, too.” She crossed her arms and straightened in a rigid stance. “I won’t allow you to drag my daughter down with you into that cesspool of sin you’ve chosen to be a part of.”

  Her words sliced through me.

  Painful.

  They were like acid burning me.

  Cruelty really was the currency I dealt in, though, so my mind and every muscle in my body fell into line and prepared for war. I was like a well-oiled machine moving into preservation mode in a cold and calculating way.

  Ivy had always been Bethany’s favourite foster child. The others had come and gone, but Ivy had stayed until she was an adult. Ivy was the only one who thought of Bethany as a mother. They were close as fuck, and while I’d always respected that, Bethany had to understand and support Ivy’s choice to make a family with me.

  Ice laced my words when I spoke next. “Ivy has made her choice, and you need to respect that choice in the same way she has always respected your choices and decisions.”

  She dropped her arms to her side, her body stiff and defensive. “I don’t have to do anything, Zachary. I certainly don’t take directions from you.”

  I clenched my jaw. “No, but Ivy does.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh I see, you’ve turned into one of those men now. The kind who like to control and order their women around.” Contempt crept into her tone when she added, “I should have known that would happen.”

  I wasn’t that kind of man and never would be, but this was combat, and I wasn’t above using whatever method I needed to win. “Ivy loves me, Bethany. She has for a good eleven years, and it’s the kind of love that not even a mother can come between. You wanna try, be ready for me to unleash a holy fucking war on you.”

  My entire fucking body strained as violent anger raged through me. I would claw and tear and smash my way into getting what I wanted before I’d ever walk away from Ivy.

  Bethany’s nostrils flared as she took a step closer to me. “You can threaten me all you like. I’m not scared of you. I will fight for my daughter until the end because that’s what a mother does. Now, I want you to turn around, leave my house and never come back. And get ready for your war.”

  I watched her for one more tense moment before leaving. That would have been the end of it for today, but it turned out we had one more round left in us.

  Ivy flew through the front door just as I reached for the handle. Her wild eyes met mine. One look and she knew the situation had escalated. “Oh God, what did you do, King?”

  I ignored the panic in her voice and wrapped my hand around her arm. “I took care of shit, and we’re leaving now.” My voice was hard, my position unyielding.

  “Ivy,” Bethany called out, coming into view as she made her way down the hallway to where we were.

  Ivy pulled out of my hold. “What’s happened?” It was a plea, but deep down she had to know what had happened. I wasn’t the kind of man to retreat, and her mother wasn’t the kind of woman to abandon her child.

  “Your fiancé has made it clear he won’t be walking away from you, Ivy. I’m disappointed because I’d hoped my sister had raised a man who would choose to do the right thing, but it seems she failed—”

  I turned on her, my chest exploding with fury and fire. How fucking dare she utter a bad word about my mother? Drawing close, I loomed over her, glaring down with daggers, and warned, “I would be very careful if I were you, Bethany. Do not drag Margreet into this. Say whatever the fuck you want about me, but you will never speak badly of her.”

  Her earlier declaration that she wasn’t scared of me proved incorrect. She flinched and took a step away from me.

  “King! Can we please calm down and talk this out?” Ivy begged me with her words and her body, but I was past talking. Her mother had been crystal fucking clear in what she wanted, and no amount of talking would change this situation. The only thing that would make her happy was Ivy walking away from me, and I would make fucking sure that never happened.

  My eyes bored into Ivy’s as I issued my final command. “I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me.”

  She stared at me with shock. She knew what I meant. Make a choice now. Your mother or me.

  Swallowing hard, she gave her mother one last pleading look. When Bethany wrapped her arms around her body and refused to budge, Ivy’s face crumpled, and a tear slid down her face. More came, but that was after she took my hand and exited her mother’s home.

  The worst kind of betrayal comes from those you love.

  I’d opened myself up to Bethany and allowed her to rip a piece of my heart out when she decided I wasn’t good enough for her.

  I was tired of learning my lessons.

  There would be no more pieces of my heart shr
edded at another’s hand. I would make damn sure of that.

  7

  King

  Sixteen Years Ago

  Aged 23

  Six Months Later

  * * *

  Addictions were a habit that would leave you desperate and willing to crawl to your death for just one more hit.

  They made you reckless.

  Foolish.

  Un-fucking-hinged.

  I knew all about them. I was addicted to Ivy in ways that were beyond my comprehension. I looked at my behaviour some days and wondered who the fuck I was and what the fuck inspired me to do most of the shit I did.

  But I knew why.

  And still, I didn’t change a fucking thing.

  The day, six months ago, that I’d stood in her mother’s house and forced Ivy to choose between us was my lowest point. I hadn’t been able to think straight that day, let alone make rash decisions. All because I feared never having another hit.

  Our relationship had almost become a casualty of my ultimatum. Ivy chose me and hated me for it every day for a good four months. I fucking hated me for it, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the demand back. She spent her days and nights working and studying. I spent all my time at the clubhouse. We were ships in the night. And as far as our wedding was concerned, neither of us brought it up.

  Without my drug of choice, I found another way to medicate myself and quiet my demons. I turned to violence and went on a four-month rampage delivering death and destruction for Jethro in his war with the new Black Deeds president, Zero. It had been a bloody and vicious war, and it honed my skills in the way only four straight months of day in, day out depravity could.

  I hardly recognised myself when I looked in the mirror each day. Cold, soulless eyes stared back at me, void of any remorse for the things I did. Without Ivy to hold me at the end of the day, I forgot what compassion was. I had no need for mercy, so I dispensed with it.

  My days held one clear goal: protect my club. And I became the master at it.

  It took an argument with Margreet to pull me back into line. My mother saved me for the second time in my life.