Deserter

by Myers, Shannon

  “Celia, did you just say fuck or am I hallucinating?”

  “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on—not the fact that I’m here?”

  “Why?” A shadow of regret passed across his face.

  Five months of pent-up emotions came pouring out of me and I tightened my hold on his vest. “I came for you. You keep shutting me out and I had to know—I had to know if you still wanted me.”

  “Still want you? I can’t do a goddamn thing without you—”

  A sob bubbled up, unleashing a fresh torrent of tears. I released him and pressed the heel of my hand against my breastbone, struggling to speak through the pain. “Then, why? Why won’t you stay with me, Jamie?”

  He covered my hand with his and closed his eyes again. “I thought that if I kept you away from here, things would be better, but I keep fuckin’ up. You deserve so much better and I don’t want to hurt you again.”

  What could I say?

  He had hurt me that night in some messed up version of good biker/bad biker.

  “You think you’d hurt me again?” When his eyes remained closed, I asked a second time. “Jamie, do you want to hurt me?”

  “I’ve wanted to touch you… to fuck you since I found out you were knocked up. But, I’m a monster and I—” His voice cut off and he mashed his lips together. “I was convinced that you and Ryan were fucking around, and I couldn’t control it. I wanted to hurt you that night for hurting me, but I took it too far. I’m so afraid of fucking up again. So, I’ve stayed away.”

  I pulled my hand from his and shakily got to my feet. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at the tile. “Celia.”

  “Come here.” I helped him up, the momentum sending me stumbling back. Jamie tugged me forward and my belly pressed against his body.

  Instead of pushing me away like before, his hands covered my bump and his eyes flashed with a question. I nodded. “You can touch me.”

  He spread his fingers like he was holding on to a basketball and let his thumbs skim along my sensitive flesh. I moaned at the contact and rested my forehead against his chest.

  “I’m hurting you.”

  I shook my head and looked up at him, suddenly feeling shy. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve been touched and… and I really missed you.”

  “Fuckin’ missed you, Celia,” he buried his face in my hair and inhaled, before bringing his lips down on my neck.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Grey: 1989

  I kept my lips on her throat, not trusting myself to say anything else. I’d spent my evening being lectured on what a fuck up I was, as if I hadn’t already known. But, after the Betsy situation, I hadn’t wanted Celia anywhere near the club.

  With the exception of Lucy, most of those women were toxic and rough. They’d been born into this world and loved nothing more than sinking their claws into anyone that they felt didn’t belong.

  Not only that, but Celia brought out a side of me I hadn’t even known was there. Ryan was completely harmless, but that hadn’t stopped me from wanting to bash his face against the curb for even looking in her direction—there was no way in hell I could’ve brought her around my men.

  Keeping her and the club separate was my own fucked up atonement for what I did to her that night. I’d been so blinded by rage that I’d treated her like an enemy; punished her for breaking rules she hadn’t even known existed.

  I thought that maybe if I left her alone, she stood a chance at having a semi-normal life.

  If I wasn’t harder than a fucking rock every time I saw her, I might’ve succeeded in staying away. I’d seen Betsy pregnant and it did shit for me, but Celia seemed to have a death-grip on my cock.

  In the beginning, she was sick all the damn time and I had no fucking idea how to help. Lucy stepped in and took over, encouraging me to just worry about the club.

  I hadn’t wanted to stay away, but I had no idea how to straddle the line between Jamie and Grey when it came to her.

  Once Celia’s body began to change, staying at the house was out of the question. I couldn’t fucking sleep in the same bed without imagining all the ways in which I wanted to fuck her. I walked in on her in the bath once and damn near nutted in my pants at the sight of her swelling tits and belly.

  Jesus Christ, she made me crazy.

  The night I hurt her, I had flashbacks to Ma in that crappy motel bathroom. I knew that Mick, our club doc, was going to tell me that she was losing the baby.

  Because of me and my fucked up need to control her.

  It was obvious that I had no fucking idea how to be a partner to her; I’d all but run away the first time she put my hands on her stomach.

  I knew with certainty that if I got inside of her, she’d get hurt again and, as I wasn’t able to get the image of her cowering at my feet out of my fucking head, I stayed away.

  I kept my distance.

  For her.

  For our baby.

  And when that wasn’t an option, I brought my guys with me. As long as I wasn’t alone with her, she was going to stay safe.

  Sleeping at the club and fighting off the club whores began to get under my skin. I’d never deprived myself of anything, yet I’d been living like a fucking priest for the last five months. I had so much pent-up sexual aggression that it started to spill over onto her again and I began using just to take the edge off.

  I saw tonight just how much damage I’d caused. Celia was scared; had fallen into the goddamn nightstand to get away from me. It made me feel so fucking helpless. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d become my old man.

  “You can’t fuckin’ ignore her, Grey,” Slim had snapped once we got back to the clubhouse.

  “Oh yeah? And what the fuck did you do while Lou was knocked up?”

  His eyes flashed with anger. “I took care of her, Jamie! Jesus Christ, you’re so afraid to let your guard down that you’d rather her see you as this monster. Is that who you want to be?”

  Slim was probably the only one in the entire world who could say shit like that to me and not find himself on the wrong end of my switchblade.

  The bastard knew it too.

  I didn’t know how to be soft with her.

  He was right.

  I was afraid that if I let myself care for her, then it would only create more problems. My men deserved the guy who wasn’t afraid to shed blood when needed, not some pussy who chased after his girl like a lost mutt.

  Never one to miss an opportunity to kick me in the balls, Wolverine had chimed in. “She’s a fuckin’ kid who’s sacrificed everything to be with you and I don’t know that I’ve ever heard you say something nice to her. You know women need to hear that shit.”

  Slim had agreed. “If you don’t tell her what you need, you can’t be pissed when she doesn’t follow through. She’s not a fuckin’ mind reader.”

  Wolverine had tried prying the bottle of tequila from my hands before giving up. “Look, you’re expecting Ol’ Lady material from a girl who spent her summers at the country club. I told you when you were a kid that if you treated your woman with respect, you’d have her loyalty. I was wrong. Celia has given you her loyalty, but you haven’t done a goddamn thing to earn it. You think I just threw Luce into this life?”

  The next few hours had been a blur of drugs and alcohol until the guilt was gone. My mind had a compartment for Celia and a compartment for the club and fuck me if I knew how to combine the two.

  Celia began to shiver in my arms, and I sprang into action. “Shit, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

  With a sly grin, she stepped back and untied the dress, taking her time peeling it off her damp skin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Fuck me, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “Celia,” I choked on the words.

  She brought my hands back to her belly and begged, “Please, Jamie.” Goosebumps spread along her bare skin, forcing her nipples into hardened points.

  I was a fucking
goner.

  I stripped off my kutte and t-shirt, suddenly sober, as I walked her back toward the bed. The wet denim clung to my thighs and I took pleasure in watching Celia’s teeth sink down into her lip as my cock jutted up against my stomach while peeling them from my skin.

  “Babe.”

  She frowned at the foreign term of endearment and reluctantly brought her eyes up to meet mine.

  I held out my hand. “Panties.”

  She used my arm to steady herself as she stepped out of them and I guided her back onto the bed before looking around in confusion. “Am I still fucked up? This place was a shit-hole not two hours ago.”

  “I cleaned it for you. I thought if you were going to be staying here—”

  “Won’t be staying anywhere but the house. I know I fucked up, Celia. I don’t deserve you—”

  She propped herself up onto her elbows, looking like a fucking goddess from one of her books. “Make love to me, Jamie.”

  I knelt and gripped her thighs, pulling her right to the edge of the bed until her pussy was near my mouth. A tear slipped free from the corner of her eye when I pressed my lips to her belly, and I realized just what a fucking prick I’d been.

  She drove out here in the middle of the night, putting herself and our baby at risk, because I hadn’t had the balls to take care of her. I hoped she was comfortable because I was going to be making up for lost time and she wouldn’t be leaving this bed until she knew how much she meant to me.

  I might not have been able to put it into words, but I could damn well show her.

  I licked around her clit and she bucked up against my face with a moan. I’d never gone down on a woman, but I’d witnessed enough of the bikers earning their colored wings that I thought I had the gist of it. I slowly fucked her cunt with my tongue until her hands tangled in my hair and her claws raked along my scalp, soaking my beard in her juices.

  Up until now, I’d worried that she’d lost her spark. She’d started acting like the other Ol’ Ladies and I fucking hated it. She wasn’t like them; she wasn’t meant to be submissive. The only time I wanted her on her knees was in the bedroom.

  I needed her to stand up to me, to call me on my bullshit. The revelation had shocked the hell out of me. I’d been so worried about hurting her or how I looked to my men that I forgot how fucking good it felt to fight her for control. I’d gotten hung up on thoughts of taming her spirit, only to succeed and realize it was a victory I never wanted.

  Celia Cross wasn’t a victim.

  She was a goddamn queen.

  And she was mine.

  “More,” she panted, still gripping my hair in her fists and I let out a low chuckle before thrusting a finger inside of her and bringing my mouth back down to her stomach. She let out a low moan, her body shuddering and clenching around me.

  As soon as she relaxed enough for me to retrieve my finger, I stood and lined the head of my cock up against her pussy. Her hair had begun to dry into a mess of curls and as she looked up at me from under her dark lashes, I swore to myself that when it was my time to meet the Reaper, this would be the last image in my mind.

  I wanted to remember her just like this; spread out before me, body round with our child and a look of absolute fucking pleasure on her face.

  Unlike our previous times together, I sank into Celia slowly and with more care than I’d ever used in my entire life. Her body clamped down around mine, pulling me in and silencing the demons from my past.

  I wasn’t my old man.

  I wasn’t going to hurt her or the baby growing inside of her.

  Her fingers stretched to cup the backs of my thighs as she struggled to pull me closer. “I need—I need you deeper.”

  I pulled my cock free with a grin and helped her up before taking her place on the bed. “Ride me.”

  She nodded and crawled back up, sinking down onto me with a contented sigh. The position put her in control, and she began rocking against me with abandon.

  I used to think Slim was full of shit when he’d brag about how crazy for sex Lou was when she was knocked up. Now, I was inclined to agree.

  I gripped her belly as she came with a cry, but she kept going, rolling her hips forward, faster and faster, until I became convinced that she was a figment of my imagination.

  Any second now I was going to come to and find myself alone in bed because fucking had never felt like this. My hands dropped to her hips, squeezing her flesh as she came again with a moan, taking me down with her.

  I continued thrusting up into her with a growl and she arched her back with a strangled cry. I dropped my hands immediately, horrified at the red indentions left by my fingers.

  “Celia,” I forced out. I said I wasn’t my father; swore I wouldn’t hurt her and yet, I’d left marks on her body and forced her to cry out in pain.

  She looked back down at me with a grin, palms patting at my chest as she panted, “Jamie… that… was… amazing!”

  “You’re not hurt?”

  “Are you kidding me? I feel fantastic!” She lifted her arms up over her head with a giggle.

  I tentatively brought my palms back to rest on her belly and sighed, “Jesus, babe, you scared me. I just worry with the baby—”

  “She.”

  “She?”

  Celia nodded and covered my hands with hers. “She. We’re having a little girl. I wanted to tell you when the time was right, but the time is never going to be right.” Her stomach shifted suddenly beneath my hand and I looked up in alarm, causing her to giggle again. “It’s okay. She’s just saying hello.”

  I was having a daughter.

  “Can she hear me?” As if to answer, the baby pushed against the palm of my hand again and my throat tightened.

  Mikey was mine; I’d known it since I first laid eyes on him, but I hadn’t felt a connection with him before he was born. Feeling my baby girl kick my hand left me with a feeling I didn’t even know how to describe though. I was protective over someone I hadn’t even met yet.

  I rubbed her belly again. “Hey, it’s Daddy.” My voice had gone husky on me and judging by the way Celia was scrunching up her nose, she was fighting back tears too. I watched, mesmerized, as her belly continued to shift and transform beneath my hand.

  “So,” Celia cleared her throat. “I was thinking we could name her Mary Katherine.”

  My mother’s name.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  She bit her lip. “Well, I found a Bible in one of the closets and the name Mary Katherine Quinn was inscribed on the inside. If you hate it, we could just call her Mary—”

  “No,” I said, much louder than I meant to and Celia pulled away. I couldn’t hear that name and not picture my old man screaming it in anger. “What if—what if we called her Kate?”

  I didn’t want to see my dead mother every time someone said my little girl’s name. The baby stretched against me and I smiled. “I think she likes it. What about you, babe?”

  “Kate,” she repeated with a nod. “I like it.” The baby continued to dance around, but Celia’s eyes had grown heavy.

  It was my turn to take care of her.

  I gently lifted her in my arms until my cock slipped free from her body before yanking the blankets down. I got her settled on her side before climbing in and pulling her back to my chest.

  Tonight, the demons were silent, and I fell asleep, with my daughter dancing beneath my palm.

  * * *

  A baby began crying from somewhere nearby and I sat up in bed with a start. The familiar decor of the clubhouse was gone, replaced with the decor of my childhood bedroom.

  “Celia?” I looked around the empty room in alarm before throwing the blankets off my legs and running into the hallway.

  I swayed into the wall as the icy fingers of fear wrapped around my chest.

  The furniture looked exactly as it had the night I walked out, nine years ago. I stepped around the couch with a growing sense of panic, knowing I was going to see her bo
dy behind the front door.

  The entry way was empty, and I sighed with relief until I saw the trail of blood on the carpet, taunting me.

  “Celia!” I screamed and the baby’s cries grew louder. I covered my ears and yelled her name until my voice was raw.

  The blood wound through the den and down the hall to our bedroom and I stumbled toward it with a groan.

  Why had I moved her into this house?

  Why hadn’t I bought her a goddamn mini mansion near the country club?

  Wolverine had held onto it for me; thought I’d want it someday. They might’ve ripped out the carpet and bleached away the blood, but this place was always going to be a graveyard. Hadn’t I known that?

  Grey was gone, replaced by a scared sixteen-year-old kid again.

  “Celia?” I pushed the bedroom door open and the copper scent of blood immediately hit my nostrils. Something was wrong.

  Something was very wrong.

  The baby’s cries were coming from the bathroom, but I didn’t want to go in. I knew that whatever was behind that door was going to fuck me up. I wanted to run from this house and ride around the city until I found Celia, but a part of me knew that she was here.

  She’d always been here.

  I turned the handle and the baby’s wails turned to little gasps as she looked up at me. She was mine; I could tell just by looking at her big blue eyes and blonde hair. I was so focused on her that I almost missed Celia.

  Almost.

  I dropped to my knees with a cry and the baby climbed onto me, clinging to my kutte. Celia was leaned up against the wall near the shower, looking just like Ma had that night.

  It was as if my heart had been ripped from my fucking chest. Her skin was a canvas of black and blue bruising and dried blood. I shifted the baby and pulled Celia’s body into my arms, the three of us rocking on the floor.

  Blood began to pour from between her legs and I made a noise that didn’t even sound human. Her belly was still swollen, but our child was gone. Just like she was.