“Now tell me to take whatever I want.”
He patiently waits for me to respond while keeping his grip on my hair and backside steady. He has drawn a line in the sand. I can choose the side that will end all this, letting him know I’m not ready to trust anyone, including him, or I can pick the side that could possible set me free. However, with freedom might come regret.
What if he wants more than I can give?
What he only wants me for now?
I don’t know if his intention was to have me contemplating our entire relationship, but I am. The line separates two worlds. One where I trust no one, and the other puts all my faith in a man that has said he loves me, but never truly shown it.
“Take what you want,” I whisper, hoping he understands the belief I have placed in him. Like I stated earlier, I’m weak, and I don’t think I could survive if Taz was lying about his feelings.
Unlike the other times Taz has kissed me, he makes every one of his movements precise and slow. He deliberately tilts my head further back to completely immobilize me, and pulls my center closer to his groin. Gradually running the tip of his nose up my neck, he makes a point to loudly inhale making it known he enjoys the smell of my skin.
“Flowers and Rain. Perfect,” he rumbles into the shell of my ear before biting down on my lobe, and the whimper of pleasure I’ve tried to hold back finally releases.
My hips start slowly rocking on their own accord, and I can feel my nipples peeking, begging for attention, under the three layers of clothing that is concealing them. Whenever Taz moves, the lower muscles in my abdomen tighten in anticipation, and butterflies take flight in my stomach. It’s like being on the tallest rollercoaster plummeting toward the earth, the feeling is both scary and exciting.
It seems like minutes, hours, possibly days go by before he places his strong-lips to my delicate ones. There is no urgency as he takes ownership of my mouth. Taz is taking his time, allowing both of us to explore each other like we’ve never done. His kiss leaves me breathless, his manly scent evaporates all sane thoughts, and his touch conquers all the unwanted touches that haunt me. Just like I knew he would, Taz makes it impossible to think about anything other than him.
Our time in the shed didn’t last nearly as long as we wanted it too. After countless missed calls from several club members, mostly my dad, we finally had to face the reality that we had to return to the real world. Riding on the back of Taz’s Harley, making waves in the wind with my hand, I can’t help the smile that stretches across my kiss swollen lips. Taz was a perfect gentleman, besides the countless dirty promises he kept whispering in to my ear, along the side of my neck, or over my lips. His hands stayed at ten and two, well more like twelve and six, but I didn’t mind. Placing that trust in him helped heal some of the old wounds he caused, and it gives me hope that maybe he meant everything he said.
Pulling down the bumpy road that will lead us to the clubhouse, I get a sense of dread. Not because my dad is most likely pissed, or that we worried everyone when we ignored their calls. It’s because I know when I walk through that heavy-metal door, we won’t see two members. One that watched over me every night for two months after my capture, and one that has always been a friend to me. Saint is in the hospital, no longer the man he was, and Teller will be by his side until he wakes up, if he ever does. That knowledge is what brings a sharp pain to my chest, and tears to my eyes. It was easy to forget about everything that was happening when it was just me and Taz seeking shelter from the storm, but now it’s going to be staring us in the face the minute we walk inside.
“Where have you been?” Torch questions looking directly at Taz. He’s met us at the side door of the clubhouse, blocking our entry with his large body.
“Where’s Buck?” Taz responds with his own inquiry.
Torch doesn’t immediately answer because he’s too busy looking at our conjoined hands. Taz is holding onto mine with a grip that makes me feel both protected and wanted.
“Don’t do this today, not today,” Torch is warning Taz about something I don’t understand, but clearly both men do.
“You’d rather me hide it from him. I’m not a coward, Torch, and I won’t walk around like one.”
“No one would perceive you as one, Taz. He just lost Saint, he doesn’t need you throwing this,” Torch says, gesturing toward our clasped hands, “in his face.”
I feel Taz grow rigid beside me, and the last time I experienced that was in the dungeon. When he gets mad, it’s impossible for him to hide the emotion, his body language won’t let him. Fortunately for Torch, I can tell Taz is trying to control his anger.
“WE,” Taz growls. “We lost him, and nothing you say will change my mind. Serenity is mine, and the entire club is about to learn that. Don’t forget I’m your VP, brother. Get in line, and get the fuck out of my way.”
I can see the restraint it’s taking Torch to step aside without saying anything, and part of me feels sorry for him, but I can’t stop thinking about what Taz just said. We literally just started this relationship, yet he is ready to claim me in front of everyone, including my father. I know how serious this is, and I’ve dreamt about it happening, so why do I plant my feet, refusing to take another step forward.
Taz looks over his shoulder, confusion lining his handsome face.
“I can’t. We can’t. You can’t, “I stumble out, not bothering to put a complete sentence together. He obviously understands what I’m not saying because a look of amusement replaces the inquisitive one.
“You can, and I will,” he declares, squeezing my hand. The gesture is meant to comfort me, but it doesn’t. Too many things have happened, too many words have been said, and I’m not entirely sure this will last between us.
“Taz…” I start to say before he interrupts me. All the while Torch is trapped behind us, not at all comfortable with hearing our exchange if the look on his face is anything to go by.
“No more running, Serenity. It’s you and me.”
Maybe it’s the confidence in his eyes. Maybe there’s still a part of the old Serenity shoved somewhere in my being. There are countless possibilities to explain why I nod my head in agreeance, and allow him to lead me through the clubhouse, but none of them matter right now.
“Buck,” Taz says, walking up to my father currently sitting at the bar sipping on a twelve-ounce bottle of his favorite liquid. The corner of the blue label looks to be tampered with, like my dad has been slowing pulling it off.
When my dad spins his entire body around to look in our direction, standing from the old iron stool, I can see the sadness in his eyes. Twisting my hand from Taz’s, I move to wrap my arms around the most important man in my life. He immediately embraces me as well, allowing me to try and squeeze some of my strength back into him. Slasher has done more to this man than he deserves, and my heart breaks for all the situations my dad has to handle. Being the President of Tarnished Souls can’t be easy, especially with new enemies coming out of the woodworks every day.
“Did your cellphone break?” He questions.
“No,” I answer, feeling even more guilty that I was ignoring his phone calls.
“Will it ever be easy?” He inquires, talking more to himself than me. With one finale squeeze he releases me, but keeps me within an arms-distance. All the while, Taz has said nothing while we have our mini reunion. Knowing how upset my dad is right now really has me starting to second guess Taz’s decision to tell him about our relationship.
“Will what be easy?” I ask.
“Seeing you grow up,” he mumbles. Some of the sorrow in his soft brown eyes starts to change to admiration as he stares at me before breaking our eye contact to acknowledge Taz. “I told you to come find me when you made your decision. I don’t have to guess which one you’ve chosen.”
“She’s mine now, Buck. I promise to protect her with my life,” Taz announces loud enough for anyone in our surrounding area to hear him. I can’t stop the blush that starts to race up my
neck and onto my cheeks from being the center of attention.
“It’s not her physical safety I’m worried about,” my dad replies. “If your intentions are to claim her I won’t stand in your way, but this is irreversible. When shit gets hard, when things stop going your way, Serenity is still your number one concern. She’s not just my daughter, she’s my whole world, and I need to know she’s with someone that feels the same way.”
“You have my word,” Taz states, bringing his hand forward, gesturing for my father to seal the deal with a shake. I should be offended that these two men have treated me like a contract, but my father’s kind words won’t allow it. I know I mean everything to him, and now I’m starting to see that Taz too has a special place in his heart just for me.
“If you hurt her I will no longer be your club president. I’ll become your worst nightmare,” my dad warns, taking Taz’s waiting hand in his, and just like that, my life changes. Taz has claimed me, my dad didn’t try to kill him, and I get back a sense of stability I haven’t felt in a while. Together the three of us can make this work, I know we can.
Serenity
It’s been six days since we found-out the horrible news about Saint not waking up. Teller hasn’t been back to the clubhouse, and today is the day we are going to move Saint into the rehabilitation center in Brownwood. He was supposed to be moved days ago, but the paperwork took longer than normal to be processed.
Taz, Torch, my dad, Hammer, Mia, and myself are just arriving at the hospital to meet with Teller. I couldn’t imagine going through this alone, so we’re going to ride with him behind the ambulance that is transporting Saint. There were countless members from our chapter and others that wanted to join our tiny group, but my dad thought it best to keep it small. Teller wouldn’t want it to feel like everyone is saying goodbye, because he’s still holding onto the belief that Saint will recover.
My dad is leading our small group to the room where the two members of our family wait. The sound of the men’s heavy boots are echoing throughout the narrow halls, making the situation seem more surreal. It reminds me of the old western’s my dad used to watch. The men surrounding me in leather and cuts are like the bad cowboys that come into a town to rob the people. Everyone stops to stare, but no one tries to stop them. I guess the nurses and doctors can sense their moods, and think it best to stick to the wall like used gum, hoping not to be seen.
When my dad stops at the door that reads two-three-two, he takes a short pause before placing his hand on the brass handle. With a quick jerking-down-motion, the door’s latch is released and we come face to face with reality.
Teller briefly looks up from the spot on the bed he is concentrating on, but quickly goes back to his focal point once he sees there’s no threat. He’s sitting in a chair beside his brother’s bed, Saint is sleeping in the bed with several covers laid over him, but there is a new item of clothing covering his chest. Draped over him is the cut he was wearing when he was shot, the holes from the bullet displayed for everyone to see. The patch with his name and position have blood splatter on them, the red burning bright against the white, and the club’s emblem has been ruined with all the dark maroon stains on it.
“We’re here to follow the ambulance, Son,” my dad is the first to speak. Inching closer to the man that seems like a ticking time bomb, he tries to keep the sorrow in his voice from coming through.
Teller looks up, his eyes showing just how tired and grief stricken he is, nodding his head. The normal stubble on his face is now turning into the beginnings of a bad maintained beard. The puffiness under his blue eyes suggests he hasn’t been able to hold back his tears, and the thought of him crying over his brother, alone, bothers me more than I can express.
“Excuse me, Mr. Williams, we are ready to bring your brother down to the ambulance now,” a nurse announces peeking, her head through the open-doorway.
Standing up like it’s painful to get to his feet, Teller places his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Unlike before, he doesn’t speak, he just bows his head. Watching a single tear fall from his eyes, landing on the leather vest around Saint’s chest, is one of the saddest moments I’ve ever witnessed. The unbreakable man we’ve all been frightened of a time or two, is slowly crumbling in front of us.
The walk to the parking lot doesn’t seem to take as long as the walk up from it did. Teller’s thundering footsteps are quickly eating up the space in anticipation to be back at his brother’s side. It’s a long ride to Brownwood, and the doctors said it’s against hospital policy to allow Teller to ride in the vehicle with Saint.
Arriving at the men’s Harleys parked in a perfect diagonal line, my dad reaches his hand out clapping Teller on the shoulder.
“I think it’s only right if you take lead,” he says, referring to the rider that is upfront. Usually the president of the club is always lead man, but my dad has given the honor to Teller for this ride.
A flash of pride and admiration crosses Teller’s face so quickly I almost think I’ve imagined it, but I don’t have time to contemplate my sanity before we see the ambulance pulling up to the entrance bellow big-red letters.
Six-bikers straddle their machines, and five wait for their lead man to start his bike-up. When the familiar roar of Teller’s beast breaks the sound barrier, the rest of the men follow suit. One-by-one they honor their brother, their fallen comrade, with the sounds of their bikes. The mean machines that usually remind me of the rumbles of war, now sound like the roars of sorrow. Climbing onto the back of Taz’s bike, I finally allow the tears I’ve been holding back to come forth. I too feel the emptiness in my heart for Saint, a close friend, and an irreplaceable member of the Tarnished Souls MC.
The facility Teller choose for his brother is much nicer than I had thought it would be. I’ve always thought places like this were all the same. White-walls, shiny tile-floors, and the smell of sickness so thick in the air you can barely breath. However, this one seems to have found a way to keep that stench away, replacing it with an apple-cider fragrance. Saint is in a private room and the doctors assured us he would have a nurse that checks on him often. There is a lot of complications that can come with a comatose patient, one being bedsores and loss of muscle mass. This particular facility is supposed to be the best at what they do, so we’ll just have to wait and see.
We arrived here shortly before sundown, and haven’t left since. Teller is under the impression he can stay with his brother, but my dad was just informed visiting hours end at nine. I’m not sure how we missed that big detail in the information packet, but we did. Now it’s nearly nine, and someone is going to have to tell Teller he can’t stay.
“Get my daughter home safely,” my dad says, standing to his full height. We’ve all been sitting in the main lobby, allowing Teller to have alone time with Saint.
“We’re going with you,” Taz announces. Pulling me to my feet by our conjoined hands he starts to follow my dad down the hall. Torch, Mia, and Hammer make up the back of our line.
“Let me talk to him by myself,” my dad mumbles, stopping at the closed door that will lead him to Teller. Taz and Torch both nod their heads, but their eyes promise backup if it’s needed. Teller isn’t a small man, and getting him to leave his brother is going to be nearly impossible. They’ve always been together. You never got one without the other, so Saint’s absence isn’t going to be easy on Teller.
“I don’t see this ending well,” Torch states, wrapping his hand around Mia’s waist, pulling her into his side. Mia rests her head against his shoulder, the closing of her eyes and look on her face make it seem like she is receiving strength from his touch.
“We can’t change their rules,” Hammer says.
“But we can place men outside the building,” Taz responds, sounding like the VP he is. “Call Irish and Dak. Tell them they are taking guard duty tonight. We will come up with a better system in the morning.”
THUMP!!
The loud sound has Taz rushing through the door
followed by Torch and Hammer. Mia and I stand in the doorway watching in dismay at the situation that is unfolding. The strong base that was holding Teller together have given-way, and he is now crumbling apart.
The thump we heard came from my dad’s back being slammed into the wall opposite Saint’s bed. Teller is holding him in place by the hand on his throat, my father’s face turning red. I can tell he’s still getting plenty of air because his chest is expanding with deep inhales, but Teller is applying enough pressure to make me nervous.
“Teller, brother, what are you doing?” Taz questions, taking two cautious steps in their direction. Hands by his side, and walking like he is trying to maneuver his way through a field full of landmines, he stops when Teller lets out a menacing growl.
“You are not my brother,” he says in the scariest voice my ears have ever heard. The raw and raspy sound of his damaged vocal cords only adds to the frightening tone.
“Look around you, Teller. We’re all your family,” Torch declares, taking his place beside Taz. It’s then I realize Hammer too has placed himself beside them. They are making a wall of muscle between us and the threat, protecting us women. Teller is a member, but he is also a loose cannon right now, and they know anything could happen.
“Don’t do this,” my dad whispers out, “don’t cause a scene that will get you permanently kicked out of here. Saint wouldn’t want that.
“Then he needs to wake up and tell me himself,” Teller whispers releasing my father with a look of disgust on his face.
Blue eyes shining bright with rage, he walks to the side of the bed. Towering over the man that once saved his life I watch in shock as he grabs onto the front of Saint’s ugly hospital gown. Lifting the lifeless body of his brother into a half-sitting position, he beings to shake him.
“WAKE UP,” he roars, “WAKE UP!!”
Taz (Tarnished Souls MC Book 2) Page 16