Redemption_A Defiance Novel

by Stephanie Tyler

  “You’re hurt. You need sleep and rest.”

  He gave a silent snort, then guided me out of the bathroom, where he typed, Made a promise. Plan on keeping it.

  I didn’t argue, just followed him to the outside, through the compound in the dark. He wound his fingers through mine, his grip tight and reassuring as he kept his pace quick. I shivered, even though we’d only been outside for ten minutes.

  He’d never broached bringing me into the tunnel system, and I knew better than to ask. I knew it was possibly safer—and warmer—but the idea of the maze, coupled with my fear of being lost underground, was too much to overcome. And I felt as though I’d overcome a lot already.

  We were in the gym, the area where the mats padded the floor and the walls. He pointed to my shoes and jacket and I took both off.

  He was going to teach me to fight.

  You’re already good. I’ll make you better.

  I wanted to tell him that I didn’t need to learn, that I wanted him around to protect me. But in order for me to be able to help him, I had to help myself.

  After he showed me a few basic moves, I punched my palm out the way he’d shown me—arm extended, palm flat—and I stopped under his nose. He nodded, put my palm to his nose and mimicked how I should push up, hard. And he told me that I needed to use that move against anyone who I thought could be a threat—because most likely, they would be.

  His eyes were darker than normal when he mouthed that. Once we’d progressed past the smaller moves, he circled me, a small smile on his face, a totally nonthreatening one, and a rush of heat went though me as I watched him. He moved so fluidly, so silently, it was like watching a panther prepare to strike. He was too distracting and when he pounced, I wasn’t ready to defend myself. But I also didn’t want to, not when his big body covered mine, rolled me solidly under him.

  His eyes glittered with amusement as he mouthed, You didn’t fight.

  I put my hands on his shoulders, slid one behind his neck, the other into his hair. “You’re too pretty to fight.”

  That made him laugh silently, but his cheeks also flushed slightly, the way they’d done when I caught him off guard with any kind of compliment. But he knew I meant it, mouthed, That’s the surprise. No one expects pretty to fight.

  I knew it was important to learn, but at that moment, it was more important to kiss him, to revel in the fact that the world had stopped and there was no more rushing around, no place we had to be.

  In that moment, I knew for certain that I’d fallen in love with this man, and that no matter what else happened, I’d always have that.

  The mat was soft under me and Mathias’s hands were rough on my skin. Contradictions of the cool air on my skin, coupled with Mathias’s warm mouth as he kissed his way down my body, uncovering me slowly. Driving me crazy, until I wanted to rip my own clothes off. And he knew it, which is why he went deliberately slow.

  My songs know what you did in the dark

  Mathias

  There was a connection between fighting and fucking that was inevitable, and indescribable unless you’d done both as hard as you goddamned could. I’d known that for what felt like forever, but tonight, Jessa learned it too.

  Because of that, I was her goddamned slave for the rest of that night, and probably would be for many, many nights beyond that, if the fates continued to align.

  But I was never one to tempt the fates.

  Much.

  Ah, fuck.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I’d brought the alphasmart along, since Bish wasn’t here and there was only so much lip-reading she could do as of now. She was learning fast, though.

  I put my finger on the first key and hesitated. But I wasn’t going to live my life not telling someone close to me exactly what I was thinking, exactly what I was all about. I took a lot of lives, I typed.

  “Do you feel guilty?”

  If they deserved it, am I supposed to feel guilty?

  “No.”

  Do you feel guilty about stabbing me?

  “No.” I stared at her until she started to laugh a little. “It was the right thing to do, Mathias. You’re the one teaching me to protect myself.”

  And then she reached out to trace the healing wound with her finger. “It’s going to scar.”

  They always do.

  “So you’ll always remember me.”

  There are easier ways to make me always remember you.

  She laughed a little, a joyous sound. One I wanted to hear more.

  You’re beautiful, I told her.

  “You’re handsome, Mathias. So incredibly handsome.” She ran a hand along my face as she spoke. She was using her hands to drive home her point, much in the same way I did. I didn’t need words all the time and I liked that she’d realized that.

  Then she put her hands on my face, along my jawline, and she pulled me in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet—a tease. And then she pulled me in again for a deeper kiss, tentative and exploring, and I let her do her thing for a moment. And then I took over.

  We rolled along the mat and I ended up covering her body with mine. Pinned underneath me, she shivered, but I knew the look on her face, and it was anything but fear. I bent to capture a nipple in my mouth and caress the other with my thumb. She jumped under me, pushed her pelvis up, grinding against me. And she looked surprised, like her body was betraying her. Hell, that was the only good kind of betrayal there was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Good times, bad times

  Jessa

  It was that time of night—early morning, actually—when it was so late and you were so tired, that everything seemed surreal. If I stayed up any longer, pushed past that point, the dreamlike quality would disappear, replaced by reality.

  Still, I liked Defiance’s reality a lot better than my old one.

  We’d made it to the diner, worn out from sex and everything else, and Bishop was already there. We were the only ones there so far, in a booth in the back and we were served quickly by a sleepy young girl who looked between me and the two men and smiled.

  I could only guess what she was thinking.

  But then I signed my food order to Bishop, who looked like a proud papa.

  “You’re a good student,” he whispered behind his hand, then put a finger to his lips and pointed at me.

  Mathias signed, I’m not deaf, asshole, but he didn’t seem angry that Bishop offered to teach me.

  “You said your father couldn’t speak either. What did the doctors say was wrong?”

  Nothing.

  “Obviously, something was wrong.”

  Not medically. As I settled in, watching Mathias’s hands and listening to Bishop’s voice, I tried to picture a young Mathias running wild in the bayou. Actually, it wasn’t all that hard. My parents knew I wouldn’t be able to speak before I was born. Our mama, she took me to a gypsy woman who lived in our parish. She had the sight, told Mama that I’d be born like my dad, because of the curse.

  “Curse?”

  That’s why I can’t speak.

  I wanted to ask whether he really, truly believed that, but I didn’t. He knew, because he said, My grandpapa started it. He broke a gypsy woman’s heart and she cursed him and all the men in his line who followed him. Said that it would make him think hard before he told another woman he loved her so easily...figured you couldn’t lie with your hands or your face as easily as you could fool someone with your voice.

  I couldn’t believe there wasn’t a simpler explanation.

  Babe, I’ve been to docs. Ain’t nothing wrong with my vocal cords, my anatomy or my brain. Not one medical professional’s been able to explain it, but I didn’t need them to. The day the gypsy cursed my grandpapa was the last time he’d ever been able to speak.
Was supposed to stop him from telling lies so freely.

  “Did it work?”

  He laughed. So did Bishop, and they continued, Probably not. I come from a long line of men who like telling tall tales.

  “I’m finding all of this very hard to believe.”

  That gypsy woman disappeared. Some of her family felt bad for us, tried to lift the curse, but that can only be done by the one who cast it.

  “I’d hate her.”

  Why?

  “Because she left you disabled,” I blurted out.

  He pushed me back against the booth’s seat and pinned me to the cold fabric, an elbow on one side of my shoulders while he signed. Bishop’s voice in my ear. Feel disabled to you, babe?

  And then Mathias kissed me, right there in the diner. Over and over until the wash of an unexpected climax left me shuddering in his arms. In my post-orgasmic haze, I heard Bishop translate—If you really think I’m disabled, then you’re the one with the problem—right before I heard the door slam.

  * * *

  I lay there for a long while, staring at the ceiling of the diner, my cheeks burning. Bishop had stayed with me, and I didn’t know if Mathias had told him to or not.

  But when the bells on the diner door began to ring, I knew I needed to get out of there before it filled up with customers. I got up and walked out without looking back. Bishop fell into step with me about five minutes later.

  “People fight, Jessa.”

  “Not where I come from. Not like that.”

  “And if I’m remembering correctly, you don’t want to go back there.”

  Damn him.

  “Sex isn’t anything to be ashamed of. He was just reminding you that there’s nothing he can’t do for you. Around here, that’s important—gotta show your woman you’re capable of giving her everything she needs,” Bishop told me. “Actually, that’s the way it should be for every guy, whether they’re in an MC or not.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “You did,” he corrected. “But you’re not him. And it’s important to him that you don’t see him as disabled, or a freak. He’s heard it enough, but not from someone who loves him.”

  I stared at Bishop. He was right, on all counts, and I guessed my feelings were probably obvious from the moon. I only cared if they were obvious to the one man I’d just wounded deeply.

  Bishop pointed to a spot where a couple of chairs were laid out and we sat there, in the morning cool, with the floodlights from the night before still shining. And then he told me, “He’s special, Jessa. Not saying that because he’s my friend. I’m saying it because it’s true. He’s too special to be fucked over by a politician’s daughter.”

  Anger rose in me and I sputtered, “I have nothing to do with my father’s politics, or Charlie for that matter.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I threw my hands up in the air.

  “He’s cursed, Jessa. That’s what he told you and you won’t take it seriously. But his father was cursed, and so was his grandpapa. And you can choose not to believe it but I have doctor reports that show there’s nothing wrong with his throat.”

  I blinked.

  “So until you embrace that shit, this won’t work. You’ve got to believe in something, Jessa. So you either believe in Mathias or you don’t. But if you don’t, you need to leave him the fuck alone. He’s not only your feel-good toy.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’ve never had this, with anyone. I never would again. He’s too special to lose. I was just angry that someone took away his voice. It’s not fair.”

  “Nothing’s fair. And you know as well as I do that his voice is stronger than most who can speak.”

  I processed that. “Will he forgive me?”

  “I’m guessing yes, but you’ll have to do some groveling.”

  We sat in silence as I pondered that. And then I asked him something I couldn’t have if Mathias had been there. “He never wants to talk about what happened when the Chaos first hit. What happened to him? To both of you?”

  “You really want to know?” Bishop’s deceptively lazy lion’s eyes flickered over me.

  “Yes. He never makes a big deal about it. Says it’s nothing.”

  “Maybe that’s what he’s got to tell himself to survive.” Bishop was letting me in, telling me inside information on Mathias—and Mathias might never know I had the info. But Bishop was giving me a way to understand his best friend and my lover better, even though Mathias was angry with me.

  He stared up at the dark sky for a long while, and I feared he’d changed his mind, but then he said, “He lost his family.”

  I found it curious that Bishop said his family instead of our family, but I didn’t comment and he continued. “Mom died a year before the Chaos and Dad—well, look, he was great but after Mom died, he wasn’t the same. We lost him when we lost her. And so we were already on our own when it hit. We’d been mourning him and her and so, when the bayou rose up and washed the house away, Mathias looked at it like it was the right thing to happen. Like it was a circle-of-life kind of thing. He grew up believing that.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m more of an eye-for-an-eye kind of man. So’s Mathias, when it comes right down to it. But I’ll take on his burdens, because he took on mine, never blinked and never looked back.”

  I wanted to know more, but I didn’t push it. Men had their secrets—so did best friends, and their bond was stronger than most. I wanted a friend like that.

  Bishop gave me a hard look. “You’ve got one. You’ve got two, if you’re the real deal.”

  I wondered if Mathias was also very suspicious of me. I supposed they didn’t get that far in life by being naive. I’d been naive and look where it had gotten me.

  Right into Mathias’s bed. “I need to learn signing faster. I need to communicate with him better.”

  “You already do communicate, Jessa. It’ll take a long time to get fluent, but the more you do it...”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “Keep using your signs as much as you can. Trying to recognize them without actually doing them yourself’s too hard.”

  “I feel like I might never be able to communicate with him.”

  “Honey, whatever you did is getting through just fine.”

  Well sure, but that was sex. And what did sex have to do with anything? It hadn’t done anything for me before. Sex had been sex and love had been love and as odd as it sounded, there hadn’t been a connection between the two. At least not in my world. Then again, in my world, love was more rare than sex, and I’d mistaken love for something it hadn’t been.

  And maybe that’s the problem in your world.

  I knew that now, but only because I knew what love was. I knew it every time I looked at Mathias, but I wasn’t sure how to tell him.

  Then again, maybe he already knew.

  Man in the box

  Mathias

  Bish found me working out in the warehouse. The basement was set up like a training gym, with all sorts of equipment, and plenty of punching bags.

  And I was punching the hell out of one of them, punching and kicking until sweat and anger nearly blinded me. And I fucking hated that Jessa had made me this way.

  “Not the first time you heard someone call you that.”

  “Of course, he was right. It was actually pretty damned delicate, all things considered. Most of the time it was stupid or retard or dumb mute. And I’d shrug it off, because it never really mattered.

  It mattered now. It mattered a whole hell of a lot.

  “I don’t think she meant it.”

  I paused. Now you’re sticking up for her.

  “Yes.”

  Fuck off, Bish.

  But he wouldn�
�t. Because that’s how it went with us. “You think she’s going to screw us.”

  Maybe not intentionally, but we both know this is a really bad idea.

  “Not like we haven’t made the best of those before.”

  He was on my side. Always was, no matter how defensive I got. He’d always diffuse me. She’s bringing hell to our doorstep.

  “And we helped her right along. You don’t have to be scared to feel, M.”

  I punched the bag viciously. That was the bad thing about being so close to Bish. I couldn’t hide a damned thing. Bish came behind the bag to hold it steady and we fell into familiar patterns. “Caspar said he’s thinking of putting you up against Keller’s top guy.”

  That was a big fucking deal. First, because we weren’t official Defiance yet, and also because losing to Keller’s man would screw Defiance badly. Keller might have it out for the MC, but the fights were a whole separate thing, and the betting—and the money won and lost—were not to be fucked with.

  “You won’t lose.”

  I punched four times hard and fast, no stopping. My arms burned, my eyes stung. And then I turned and walked toward the showers, not stripping until I was already under the cold water. Sometimes, there’d be a tinge of warmth but not today. I needed the cold to put out the burn.

  “You get sensitive about the ASL stuff.”

  I bit back a smart answer, because Bish was right. And Tru and some of the other guys in Defiance were learning it through Bish. He had some charts and he was the one who actually taught them. They probably figured I didn’t teach them because it upset me. Really, it was because I had zero patience for teaching anyone anything.

  Yeah, Bish and I, we had everyone fooled.

  But there was something about Jessa that let me know I couldn’t fool her for long.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Pain and glory

  Jessa

  I showered and slept, and then Bishop came to check on me. When he knocked on the door, I admit I was hoping for it to be Mathias, but I knew it wouldn’t be.

  “Can you take me to see him?”