If you stay put, you will drown.
I start to shiver, but my eyes are on Beast's mouth instead of wherever else they should be. I can't seem to stop staring at the droplets of moisture on his lips. He's still hovering over me on all fours, staring down at me.
We look at each other, and even though it's a terrible idea, I lean up and kiss him.
Our mouths are cold at first, from the rain and the pool water, but when he reaches up and cups the back of my head with one, big hand … the temperature creeps toward boiling hot. That strange coiled energy in Beast comes toward me in a tsunami, and I find myself gasping as he pushes me back and covers my body with his own.
I can't hike my skirt up fast enough, but at least he gets his dick out in record time.
Beast hesitates for a moment at my opening, and I make a low growling noise in my throat.
“I'm on the pill,” I snap, and Beast gives me a look I can't read. His eyes are like arctic glaciers, cold and foreign but quickly melting in the burgeoning heat. And his blond hair, it’s soaked through and dark, like burnished gold. Someone so dangerous shouldn’t get to be so handsome. Scrambles the brains of onlookers, you know. That’s my excuse. He’s so placid, too, in the way he looks at me, like there’s not a thing in the world that could break his stoic tranquility.
But that ironclad control of his is under a lot of strain. I literally watch it snap and shatter as he drives into me with a grunt. His body is hot, sliding into slickness until he's balls-deep. His hand grasps the hair on the back of my head and tilts it back so that my neck is exposed.
I groan as he starts to move, putting his mouth to my throat and licking, sucking, biting. I'll have marks for sure, but I don't care. Because when you're rock-bottom and drowning, any little breath is pure pleasure.
Beast rides me into the pavement so hard I'm sure I'll have scrapes on my ass. He fucks me like he's choosing a mate, like he's some sort of alpha male wolf picking a female. It feels good, too, to be worshipped and wanted like that. The harder and faster he goes, the more I want. The more uncoiled and wild he becomes, the more interested I am.
Our mouths clash, and I can feel the roughness of his body against the smoothness of my own. His beard against my face, his legs against mine, his rough hand sliding down my side and plunging beneath my shirt. He cups my breast through my bra, thumbs my nipple through the thin lace.
My body is on fire, burning up from the inside. But instead of turning me to ash, it's burning away my pain and anger and frustration. It feels so good to lose myself like that, and it makes me wonder if the addictive personalities that run in my family have bled over to me, if I'm addicted to danger and sin and ruination.
It would only make sense, wouldn't it? I was born in shadows, and in shadows I remain.
My hands grasp Beast's muscular arms, fingernails digging into his tattoos and making him bleed. He's dark from the sun, dipped in ink, and an integral part of the darkness that I'm running from.
And yet somehow, all I want right now is him.
Catcher Coffey. Beast. The Enforcer for the Death by Daybreak Motorcycle Club, arguably the most dangerous and terrifying job there is. Beast kills people. He tortures them.
He's fucking me.
And I love it.
I push against his chest, and he rolls us over so that I'm on top. I feel like a princess up there, the princess to a throne of dirty deeds and motorcycles. I'm soaked in sweat, but it's hard to tell because the rain just won't stop coming down. Moving my hips, I find a rhythm that works for me, and I grind my body against Beast's, making his back arch, bringing a growl from his lips.
My climax is messy, ragged and raw. It overtakes my body like a storm, cracking like the lightning in the sky above our heads. Beast flips me over yet again and crushes me in the best possible way, finding his own orgasm with an animalistic little snarl.
Afterward, we lay there for several quiet moments before he pulls away and looks at me with the most cryptic expression on his face, like it's painful to be in my near proximity. I fix my clothes, giving him a defiant stare, and then stand up on shaky legs.
We don't even get two minutes of peace before Gaz comes storming out the back door, looking to pick a fight. I thank a whole host of gods I don't believe in that he didn't actually see us fucking.
Although, I'm pretty sure Beast could kick Gaz's ass.
My brother makes his way across the pavement, and gives us both looks, soaking wet and standing in silence.
“The hell is going on out here?” he asks, and Beast rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck.
I smell violence; I sense pain.
Not good.
“Do you like hitting your little sister?” Beasts asks, and Gaz gives him a dark look.
“When she gets out of line? Yeah, I do. She's my responsibility, not yours, so why don't you fuck off?” Gaz scowls and turns his attention to me. I feel my skin prickle, and my hands clench into fists. I'll never forgive him for hitting me. And I'll never forgive Cat for watching, or Nellie for helplessly sobbing while I got the shit beat out of me. “You been running your mouth, Gidget?”
“I've been covered in bruises,” I reply defiantly, lifting my shirt up to show the purple and black splotches underneath. “Hard to hide, bro.” I reach up and rub the runny makeup under my swollen eye.
“Gidget, would you mind goin' inside?” Beast drawls, voice so low I can hardly hear him over the pouring rain. I raise an eyebrow at the same time as Gaz. My brother is about the same height as Beast, but he's got a bit of a beer belly that the ex-MMA fighter definitely doesn't have. One-on-one, it'd be interesting to see.
But Beast can't start a fight with Gaz, not over me.
As far as the club is concerned, I'm Cat's and Gaz's property. Beast is a part of the club, their brother. Their loyalty is to each other, and nothing is owed to me.
“What are you doing, man?” Gaz asks, when Beast takes a step toward him. He opens the French doors a little wider and gestures for me to go inside. I do, but only because I'm curious. Once I'm inside, Beast closes them and turns to Gaz.
I'm still panting, still flushed with heat, and my heart is thundering.
I watch as Beast and Gaz get into an argument that I can't hear … and then start to fight. Gaz is actually the one who swings first, but as soon as he does, the fight is on. Beast launches a fist into my brother's face and spatters blood across the glass. The two of them slam into the doors and crack the glass before I manage to pull the handles and let myself out.
“Beast!” I scream, as the bigger man knocks my brother to the ground and systematically keeps him there. It isn't hard, not for someone who used to make a living beating other people up. He puts his boot on Gaz's neck and holds him there. Wouldn't take much for Beast to shift his weight forward and kill my brother.
I grab his arm and wrap my fingers around his bicep. He's fucking bristling with rage, quivering with it, but his face is still stoic, and there's no sign of that anger in his expression. No, he looks calm, cold, like a wolf in the snow, going in for the kill.
He's not pissed off; he's calculating.
“Beast, listen to me,” I whisper, and then I hear the heavy sound of Cat's footsteps.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” His voice booms across the backyard as he pauses in the doorway and looks between his two men and me. Somehow, someway, I know I'm going to catch shit for this. Beast is going to catch shit. Gaz is going to walk away unscathed, as usual. Cat looks right into Beast's eyes and barks an order. “Get your foot off his fuckin' neck.”
Beast doesn't move.
He's not going to.
He's going to ignore his president and for the life of me, I can't figure out why. Maybe all of that anger he keeps locked up so tight has escaped, and it's poisoning him? Turning his blood to fire? Or maybe he just doesn't like Gaz? I wouldn't blame him; I don't like the bastard either.
“Don't do this,” I whisper, the wind grabbing wet strands of my
hair. I'm freezing cold, and I have cum soaking into my underwear. There's blood on Beast's arm, and it's smearing beneath my fingers. The sight of it makes me feel sick to my stomach. “Please, let go of him.”
Beast stares down at Gaz, and then after what feels like an eternity, he steps back.
I'm not sure Cat heard what I said, so he grunts in satisfaction, like Beast followed his order.
He didn't.
But only Beast and I know that.
“You get your ass upstairs,” Cat tells me, nostrils flaring. The way he looks at Beast bothers me, but what can I do? I can't protect myself from Cat or Gaz. I couldn't protect Fem. I couldn't protect my sisters.
Scowling, I turn away and march inside and up the stairs.
I don't see Beast again after that.
I had no idea my loneliness could get worse, yawning open like a void beneath me. I feel like I might fall down that hole and tumble forever. Reba isn't bothering me anymore, just like I wanted. But now Dena, Chardou, and Amiya are ignoring me, too.
Beast's guard rotations have been taken over by Crown, and I know I'm running out of options here.
Next time Cat calls me to club property, that'll be it.
Blood in, blood out, right?
I'm leaning over the railing on the top floor of the high school, watching the sky bleed tears that I won't shed. My eye hurts, and my ass is bruised as hell. No matter where I go or what I do, I can't stop thinking about Beast and what he did for me.
Because that's what it was, huh? I might embrace denial like a long-lost relative, but I'm not stupid. Gaz beat me up, so Beast beat him up. But why? Does he have a crush on me?
I snort.
A crush.
Beast is a thirty-three year old ex-MMA fighter who kills people for a dangerous motorcycle club. A man like that doesn't have crushes. That's the seventeen year old girl hiding inside of me.
I get out a cigarette and light it, enjoying the dancing smoke.
“Those things will kill you,” Crown says from below me, leaning against one of the porch's decorative columns. I wonder what he paid the campus cop to keep him off his ass? Must've been something good because nobody in their right mind would let an asshole in a Death by Daybreak cut waltz around the halls like Crown does.
“That's the hope,” I say, exhaling slowly, glad I can't see his face. “Besides, do you really have the moral high ground to be giving me sage advice? You get drunk every weekend, smoke mountains of weed, and fuck anything you can get your hands on.” And you kill people, I think, but I guess I don’t know that for sure, so I don’t say it aloud.
Crown doesn’t answer me at first, but I know it’s all true.
Remember how he got his nickname?
“Do as I say, not as I do?” he offers, and I snort, smoking my cigarette and enjoying every puff. When I’m done, I flick the butt over the railing and watch as it tumbles through the air and sizzles out next to Crown’s boot. He glances up at me, and I smile tightly. “Come down here and talk to me for a minute?”
Not a chance, I think as I raise a brow, turn, and head back into the hallway. Lunch is nearly over which is fine by me. I’m too sick in the head to eat, too rife with anxiety. My only goal today is to find out where I can go in this building that Crown can’t or won’t follow me.
I come up with a familiar answer: the bathroom.
Surely Grainger told the others how I escaped at the church, so I’ll have to careful. Pulling a disappearing act from the toilets a second time is a slim to none chance.
Not that escaping from school is an option if I want to save Fem and Grey both.
No, I’m starting to think that to get away with this, I’ll have to run from the last place in the world they’d expect it: the clubhouse.
The sound of boots squeaking across the floor precedes Crown’s appearance from around the corner. Wow. Pretty ballsy of him. Usually dad’s goons don’t bother to actually come into the school. I let him walk up to me, drawing stares and wide, wide eyes as he moves past several students fiddling with their lockers.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” I tell him, wondering as he gets up close if he knows what happened between Beast and Gaz. Or if he knows why.
I wonder if he’ll be able to see past the thick layer of makeup on my face, right down to the bruises and the monster-girl hiding underneath. My mouth curves into a sardonic little smile as Crown pauses and tucks his inked fingers into the pockets of his jeans. That violet and suede smell of his fills my nostrils, but I pretend I don’t like it, leaning back and putting my red leather jacket against the locker behind me. To be frank, I’m wondering why the fuck I even have this jacket. Cat pretty much emptied out my entire wardrobe, leaving behind a single pair of steel-toed boots, three leather jackets, a handful of tees and tanks, and jeans.
That’s it.
Well, I guess I have one skirt left that got jammed under the bed, a single pair of ripped tights that were hiding inside a sock, and a single makeup bag, courtesy of my locker.
Slowly but surely, Cat is cleansing me of my autonomy, my individuality, and my freedom.
If he really thinks he can break me though, he has another thing coming. He might want to take a good, long look in the mirror and remember that it’s his blood in my veins, his stubborn heart beating inside my chest.
“Cat made a deal with the administration,” Crown tells me, giving me a surprisingly kind smile. His body is wide enough to block my view of the other students in the hall, but I can sure hear them, whispering, wondering. Nobody will dare say a fucking word though. Even sheep know when a wolf’s entered the pen.
My mouth tightens, and I look away, past the blue and red tattoo on Crown’s left arm, my eyes focused on the Death by Daybreak eclipse inked into his skin. He seems like a nice guy, but really, he’ll never be anything other than my father’s righthand. And anything attached to Cat is pure poison. I should know: I’m as toxic as they come.
“Is that a cop car?” I ask, lifting my fingers and gesturing at the red and blue ink. It’s hard to see, with his arm bent the way it is, but I’m pretty sure the scene I’m looking at is a police chase.
“It is,” he says, but I don’t get any elaboration. At the very least, he straightens out his arm, so I can get a good look. I make a genuine study of it, silently praising the artist for his attention to detail. “Gidge,” Crown starts after another moment of silence. Any moment now, the bell will ring, and I’ll be spared this painful, forced conversation. My eyes lift up and meet Crown’s green ones. “You can’t run from Cat. You know that.”
“What makes you think I’m going to run?” I ask, stepping forward and sliding my nails up the length of Crown’s bare arms. I’m not entirely sure why I’m doing it. Maybe a goodbye fuck wouldn’t be so bad? I mean, I just got one from Beast. And then before that, Grainger. May as well go all in, right? But Crown … remember how I said that even when he’s bad, he’s good? He reaches down and takes my wrists, moving a step back before he releases me. I pucker my red, red lips and give him a look.
“I’ll see what I can do about Grey,” he tells me, his brunette hair curling slightly around his ears. As I look up into that handsome face of his, I have to resist the urge to brush some of it away. Clearly, Crown isn’t interested in flirting with me. Nah, his tastes run more to lectures. Hard to believe we really fucked that night. “But you have to promise me not to screw things up from your end.”
“Cat wants to me to kill a kid,” I whisper, and Crown tenses up, eyes narrowing as he glances around for any possible eavesdroppers. There aren’t any. Only an idiot would get this close to the devil. Then, of course, there’s little old me, wanting to fuck the devil. What does that say about my personality? “When have you ever tried to talk him out of anything?”
Crown’s face shuts down, and he looks away, watching as Dena, Chardou, and Amiya make their way toward us.
Fantastic.
They haven’t talked to me all day, and now t
hat Crown is here, they can’t seem to get over here fast enough. I cross my arms over my chest and watch them, waiting to see what this shit’s about.
“Hey Gidget,” Dena says, flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder. Her outfit reminds me of something Posey would’ve worn, pink and tight and short. My stomach turns over, but I lift an eyebrow in greeting. “And … Crown, was it?” Dena looks at my bodyguard—or prison guard, depending on how you look at it—with an appreciation that can’t be faked. She’s just not that good of a fucking actress. “What are you doing hanging around with a bunch of kids?”
Crown just gives her one of his big grins and says nothing, folding his own arms over his chest. What a pair we must make.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, wishing that damn bell would ring. Lunchbreak has never felt so long. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, so clearly there must be something you want.”
Chardou and Amiya exchange looks, and the latter speaks up for her leader.
“You hurt Reba,” she says, her lipstick too purple, her eyeshadow too green. Somebody needs to teach this girl how to put makeup on without hiding behind a mask of it. She flips her dark braid over a shoulder and pops out a hip. “Emotionally and physically. She has a huge bruise on her back.” My heart clenches, but I don’t give anything away. How can I explain that I have to push Reba away to save her?
“But,” Dena interrupts, taking over the conversation again. That’s what she’s good at, attention seeking. Never seen any other talent out of her. I stare down those bright, blue eyes of hers, wondering what she sees in mine. Shadows? Darkness? Blood? I’m bathed in all three, wearing a dirty crown of chrome. “She wants you to come to Trevone’s party anyway.” Dena pauses, like she’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, she happily fills the silence. “It’s after school tonight, but not at his place anymore.”
“Trouble with the parents?” I ask, feeling the burn of Crown’s eyes on me. He’s watching me, taking me in with those bright eyes of his. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why. Clearly, I’m not about to bolt in the middle of the hallway. So he must be staring for another reason, right?
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