Split - Coffin Nails MC (Contemporary New Adult Erotic Dark Romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 7)

by Merikan, Miss

  Asty knew Aaron was the name of Hunter’s younger brother, but she didn’t know why he’d choose to have kids so young if he still wanted to travel.

  “Oh, Aaron’s not here?” Hunter asked and glanced at some of the family photos on the walls.

  “No, he seems all too busy these days.” She finally suggested they go to the living room, so they followed. “When are you two planning to get married?”

  “Marriage? Do I hear marriage?” A forty-something man in a cleric’s collar, who was bound to be Father Peter, came toward them with a wide smile that faltered as soon as he got closer. “Who do we have here?”

  Susan’s cheeks were getting red. “Hunter decided to grace us with his presence for the first time in years. And this is Asty, his fiancée.” Asty was guessing she only used the nickname version of her name so she wouldn’t have to say the name of a demon out loud.

  A slim man in a blue sweater, around the age of Asty’s Dad, gravitated toward them and put his hand on Susan’s back. His eyes alternated between her and Hunter. “Good to finally see you,” he said and gave Hunter a weird pat on the shoulder.

  Hunter kneaded Asty’s hand in his. “Hi, Dad. This is my fiancée,” he said, gesturing at Asty, who held out her hand, somewhat shocked this sparse greeting was all Hunter was getting from his estranged parents.

  The man gave Asty a tight smile and squeezed her hand. “Ah, so we might be family soon. I’m Mark.”

  Might be family? Clearly, both Mark and Susan were horribly passive-aggressive people, but Asty tried not to let it get to her. She tried to have some kind of exchange with her future father-in-law, but Mark seemed even less interested than Susan and quickly returned to his place at the sofa, where he was talking with another man his age with whom he shared similar features.

  With his father gone, Hunter started a brief conversation with the priest, and Asty looked around the cozy yet large living room. Heat radiated off the fireplace, which was surrounded by shelves filled with books and porcelain figurines, some of which seemed to portray religious scenes. But while the room was spacious, there wasn’t that much floor left bare with three puffy sofas and two armchairs gathered around a coffee table that doubled as a chest of drawers. The beige walls were livened up by a few potted plants on narrow shelves and a whole swarm of pastel-colored images Asty reckoned were depictions of Bible scenes. It took her a few moments to realize they were commemorating religious milestones, the First Communion and Confirmation. Even her two Catholic friends from school didn’t have them so proudly displayed in their homes. Sadly, no sign of Hunter’s photos or diplomas. As if they’d erased him from existence.

  In the corner of her eye, she noticed a young, handsome man come up to Hunter, and they smiled at each other, at first cautiously, but then Hunter descended on the guy with a bear hug.

  The teenager grinned, yelping when Hunter lifted him off his feet. “I grew up so much, and you still look like a giant,” he said with a chuckle, but as soon as he was back on the floor, his green eyes turned to Asty. His face was much softer than Hunter’s, but it could be just the age difference, as there was a distinct resemblance between them, all the way from the shape of the nose to the color of his short, wavy hair.

  “Hi, I’m David,” he said, and his hand stretched out shyly, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should be the one offering it first.

  Asty gave him a brilliant smile and squeezed his hand. “Asty. You’re Hunter’s younger brother?”

  David gave a nervous chuckle. “Yes, the youngest brother. And you’re pregnant? That is so amazing!” But then he stalled and went pale. “You are pregnant, right?”

  Asty made a serious face, just to tease him, but she couldn’t keep it very long. “Yes, I’m in my fifth month now. At least you are happy about it,” she added quietly, briefly glancing at Hunter’s dad discussing something with Father Peter in the far corner.

  Hunter put an arm over Asty’s shoulders. “Back off, she’s mine.” He laughed and poked David’s collarbone. It was so nice to see him so at ease with his sibling after all these years he’d been away from home. “You got a girlfriend? Did Dad give you the talk about what happens when you get married?”

  David laughed nervously. “N-no. I guess I’ve got time …”

  Asty grinned and leaned against Hunter. “I bet that what he wants to say is that he doesn’t need to get married for that.”

  David scratched his head. “I might follow in my older brother’s footsteps,” he whispered.

  “Sex before marriage?” Hunter shook his head. “I am appalled,” he said with a straight face but then tousled David’s hair. “Just messin’ with you.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just … I didn’t even know if I’d ever see you again. Mom wouldn’t tell me where you live.”

  “Why? You wanna become a biker?” Hunter snorted.

  “No, I just … It would be nice to sometimes have a chance to get away from all this.”

  Asty looked around the room full of polite looking people in pastel colors, and she had a vague idea she knew what David meant despite him wearing a grey cardigan.

  Even under the corpsepaint, Asty saw Hunter’s eyes soften. He patted David’s shoulder. “Sure, of course. We’ll exchange numbers, okay? My living space is a bit … questionable at the moment, but I’ll probably move soon.”

  Asty petted Hunter’s back, so happy to see him rekindle a relationship that had been nonexistent for so many years. It was clear he’d needed that all along, and so did David, who must have been a little kid when Hunter left the family and yet was drawn to his big brother like a puppy to biscuits. It made her sad to see there was such a rift in this family, and it reminded her of the way Lucky used to be someone whose existence no one wanted to acknowledge until just a few years ago. You could have many acquaintances, but only one family. How could anyone think this horrible divide over religious beliefs was worth all the lost connections?

  “Maybe he could visit us over the weekend? There is always a lot of stuff going on around the club,” she suggested.

  Hunter snorted. “Yeah, like a gay wedding. Mom would be thrilled to hear that. Her little Davey’s sensibilities shattered.”

  David gave Hunter a punch that was hardly a touch. “I’m seventeen. I’ve seen things.”

  Hunter laughed loudly. “Sure, you did, kid.

  Asty shrugged. “Or a party. You said you enjoyed your first one,” she teased, wondering who the girl who took Hunter’s virginity years ago was.

  Hunter smirked. “Would you be fine for a while so I can tell my brother all about it?”

  Asty nodded and stepped away from him but kept his fingers in her grip for a few moments longer. “You need to catch up.”

  David smiled at Hunter. “And you need to meet the kids. They’re upstairs. You haven’t met Joanna yet, have you? She’s seven now.”

  Hunter shook his head and sent Asty a kiss in the air before walking off with David. Her heart felt so warm over seeing him this happy. If she hadn’t suggested the corpsepaint, they wouldn’t have come and Hunter would have missed out on all of this. She tried talking to the two little kids, who kept following her with their eyes, but they seemed far too shy to interact with her. Despite what she just told Hunter, she did feel a bit self-conscious over the way the adults were staring at her while pretending they were deeply engaged in conversation. She was the guest here, so if no one approached her or invited her for a chat, she’d have to find another way to entertain herself.

  The living room was adjoined to what looked like the dining room, and the two were divided by screen doors of wood and thick patterned glass, but with the light on in the other part, she assumed she was free to go there. Sliding the doors just enough to get through, she entered the dining space, which burst with the long table and other furniture to the point it looked claustrophobic. Still, being stuck here was better than being stared at by women in beige cardigans and A-line skirts that ended just below the knee.
r />   There were several different crosses and Virgin Marys hanging on the wall, but Asty was more interested in the books stored in the bookcase, which seemed to fall into only three categories: cookbooks, self-help, and religious. The prevalence of the latter in the whole house bordered on obsessive, but it got Asty thinking back to her mother’s studio back at home, and yes—to her own room. She too had many symbols of her faith incorporated into the decor. She even wore them as jewelry and on T-shirts. If the only thing that really differentiated her from Susan in this aspect of life was Asty’s own tolerance of people who didn’t believe the same things she did, then maybe she shouldn’t be judging.

  With her back stinging a bit from her belly weighing her down, Asty moved one of the chairs and sat in it, watching a somewhat abstract sculpture of what was essentially a stick figure on a large cross. It was all sorts of confusing. Why did people like Susan have their religion validated by the state, their religious issues equaled to moral ones, when Asty’s belief in demons kept being treated as esoteric bullshit by everyone not involved in the worship? The way she saw it, there was no difference. And if so, then regardless of her mother’s delusions, demons and spirits could still exist the same way Susan believed God existed. Or were they just a fantasy, as Dad had suggested?

  The truth about Mom shook Asty to the core, and she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. This one fact had managed to rock all of her faith. She read the books Dad gave her, and she couldn’t argue with the logic in some of them, but then again, what if certain people were just unable to connect with spirits on the same level as others? Maybe science just hadn’t discovered certain things and humanity was kept in the dark, deeming them as superstition? Couldn’t there be another plane of existence where demons lived, and one could summon them if they only knew the right rituals? But on the other hand, that would mean Susan’s beliefs could also be valid. How did anyone decide which religion was the true one? Did it only depend on where someone grew up?

  “You’re Asty, right?” came a female voice with a European-sounding accent she couldn’t pinpoint. “I heard you’ll be having a boy. He’ll be my great-grandson,” the woman said excitedly and came closer. She moved with the help of a walker, and her hair was as white as the bits of snow left over on the lawn. But her smile was brilliant and didn’t falter when Asty turned around, showing off her dark makeup and the piercings in her lips, cheeks, and nose.

  “Yes. Hello,” she said and quickly picked herself up to present another chair to Hunter’s grandmother, who looked like the embodiment of the word gentle. Her frail-looking fingers squeezed on the walker as she lowered herself into the seat. Asty knew Hunter still kept in touch with his grandmother, but she was surprised for the old lady to be so open toward her. Maybe Hunter had told her all about Asty already? “You must be very proud.”

  “I am,” said Grandmom with a wide smile on her pink-tinted lips. She leaned forward and pulled Asty into a hug that had to be firm for a person of her stature. “Can’t wait to hold it. I’m so glad he finally decided to introduce you to all of us. You’re such a pretty girl.” She pulled back with a slight frown. “You really don’t need so much makeup to stand out. I’m sure Hunter likes you without it just as much.”

  Asty had to bite back a surprised laugh, afraid she’d somehow offend the granny, but she nodded. She didn’t mind Hunter seeing her without makeup anymore, as he clearly found her just as attractive then. In fact, she recently found herself dropping the white foundation at times, especially since getting pregnant, her skin looked just as amazing as the Internet promised. “It’s not like that. I’m a makeup artist, so I enjoy doing this. It’s a hobby.”

  Grandmom nodded. “Oh, so you must have been the one to do Hunter’s as well?” She twisted her lips. “I don’t really like him looking like a dead man, but you did a much better job than he used to when he tried to do it himself.”

  Asty blinked. “He used to wear ... white makeup?”

  Grandmom waved her hand. “When he was still in high school, he sometimes stayed at my and my late husband’s apartment from time to time. I knew his mother hated this music he likes. I can’t say I enjoy it either, but it’s just harmless fun, isn’t it?”

  Asty nodded, bewildered, and Grandmom continued. “So he would sometimes get those Halloween face paints, and he would go out like that with some friends. He looked like a sad clown.”

  Asty laughed, imagining how unskilled at makeup a teenage Hunter could have been. “He must have been so adorable as a child.”

  Grandmom raised her index finger and leaned forward, opening a drawer with more books, but when she finally pulled out a photo album, Asty’s heart fluttered.

  “He was adorable. Just look.” Grandmom fluttered through the pages of old pictures featuring groups of kids and people standing in front of things, but when Asty noticed a picture of a boy in a black T-shirt and shoulder-length hair staring toward the camera from the floor, her chest swelled with warmth.

  “So pretty ...”

  “If it’s a boy, maybe it’s better if he looks more like his father,” said Grandmom good-naturedly, and Asty sighed, touching the innocent face through the plastic.

  “Yes.”

  “And the wedding?” Grandmom gave a sly smile. “After you’re back to your old figure, am I right?”

  Asty chewed on her lip, slightly embarrassed. “Probably.”

  “Well, you two can’t make me wait too long. I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Shouldn’t be long,” said Asty, and Grandmom wanted to answer when someone called what had to be her name nearby.

  “Oh, well. I’ll talk to you during dinner. You two need to visit me at the home,” she said and with the help of the walker, made her way back to the living room as quickly as she could.

  Asty looked down at young Hunter and slowly traced his face with the tip of her fingernail. He had already been handsome back then, and her younger self would totally dig him, even if he wasn’t older and mature just yet.

  On an impulse, she slid her fingers underneath the plastic and pulled out the picture before stuffing it into a notebook she had inside her bag. The thrill of it made her lips feel warmer, and she wondered where her man was all that time.

  *

  At dinner, Asty met more of Hunter’s relatives. Many of them asked about Hunter’s face paint or if the piercings in her lips hurt. There were a few snippy comments from Hunter’s uncle and aunt, but all in all, dinner was a pleasant event with Father Peter only trying to pull Hunter back to his flock once, suggesting he could christen the baby. Asty had an embarrassing moment when she snorted so hard she spat some of her cake out when she imagined holy water boiling and steaming off little Beelzebub’s forehead.

  But as the guests eventually split into little groups again, she was happy to hold Hunter’s hand as he led her upstairs to show her his old room. She couldn’t wait to see where the little metalhead Hunter had spent his days.

  Hunter opened the door to a room that unfortunately looked lovely, yet extremely generic apart from the religious paraphernalia. A flowery quilt covered a double bed, and only a massive, bloodied Christ on a cross above the bed made the place seem disturbing. Asty was all for a bit of gore, but she wouldn’t keep something like this in her bedroom.

  “They redecorated it into a guest room now.” Hunter led Asty inside. “And my mom trashed all the metal posters I had.”

  Asty scowled. “Sorry. What else did you have here?” she asked and leaned against him, resting her face on his leather cut.

  “I had a collection of Bizarre magazines hidden away. Don’t need them now with my very own alternative chick.” Hunter smiled and leaned down to kiss her as his hands went up and down her sides.

  Asty nipped on his lip and nuzzled his nose. “And no one else is gonna see the pictures I can send you.”

  Hunter let out a groan. “Fuck yes. Send me pictures.”

  “What, now?” she teased and gently pushed him away.r />
  “No. Now you could just lift your dress.” Hunter laughed and spread his arms. Asty stepped away from him. She glanced toward the door but slowly picked up the hem of her tight dress and started hitching it up, past the upper end of her stockings, and stopped just before the fabric would uncover her underwear.

  Hunter stopped breathing, hypnotized by each of her moves. “That door has a lock,” he whispered.

  Asty sucked in her lip and leaned against the wall. “At your parents’?” she uttered, but the low buzz of excitement was already under her skin.

  “No. In my old room where you can fulfill all my horny teenage fantasies.” Hunter came close and put one hand over her shoulder as he locked the door with the other.

  Asty let her jacket slide to the floor. “Your gran showed me your old pictures. You were one hot teen. Those big eyes would be enough to make a cougar out of me.”

  “Noo …” Hunter moaned but slid his hand under her dress, already petting her thigh. “I was too skinny.”

  “Well, you were a teen. Can’t be the full package at that age,” said Asty, reaching back to unzip the dress. Just having his chest brush against her two enlarged breasts was such a huge turn-on.

  Hunter trailed his fingers between her legs and stroked her pussy lips through her panties much too gently. “You saying I’m the full package now?”

  Asty groaned and pushed her fingers into his hair, staring into the black holes drawn around his eyes. “You look so dangerous now,” she whispered.

  “Baby, I am dangerous. I might be a kitten to you, but you must know this, right?” He pulled her panties to the side and ran his fingers over her exposed flesh.

  Asty swallowed, sensing the heat flush her skin already. “You are like a demon from hell, hiding by my side and pretending you’re a good boy.”