by A. E. Fisher
After my conversation with Wolf yesterday, I’d been left feeling raw and exhausted. Mint still hadn’t returned my car, and the idea of going back to my empty house didn’t appeal to me, so I ended up stealing one of the empty rooms at the far side of the compound. Everyone had heard Wolf’s yelling last night, probably after having a swig of his whiskey, plus whatever the fuck was in the blue bottle I found in the pantry that I added to it.
To my surprise, he didn’t to attempt to catch my ass like usual. I managed to pass out from exhaustion and fell into a fitful sleep, riddled with nightmares and flashes from the past trying to crawl back into my mind. So, when I woke, still tired from the day before, to find out that we were going into lockdown, I decided to wrangle my keys from Mint, who had left my car in the parking lot, thank God, and go collect my clothes from my house. That had given me enough time to calm myself before returning to the compound.
“I don’t see your problem, Wolf. I just went to get some clothes. I was barely gone half an hour,” I snapped.
“You should have told one of the brothers to go fetch your shit,” he argued.
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “I ain’t letting a dirty bastard like Jax loose to enjoy a free-for-all in my panty drawer.”
“Then you should have taken one of the boys with you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of going and fetching my clothes. It’s a ten-minute drive at most.” I walked past him into the bedroom, getting fed up with this conversation, and dropped my ass down on his bed. The softness of the mattress welcomed me; it was like a bomb exploded as I sat down, and I suddenly found myself completely surrounded by the scent of sex, whiskey, and most of all, Wolf. He had a scent that was like a male musk—warm, spicy—and it tasted almost hot on my tongue as I breathed in the air.
I noticed his silence as he watched me, his eyes darkening at the sight of me sitting on his bed. It lasted but a moment before his stubborn annoyance snapped back into place.
“You want facts, Anna?” Wolf asked. He dropped onto his haunches in front of me, and despite the fact that his bed was high off the ground, his face was now right in front of mine. Wolf had a habit of liking his face in mine when he wanted to make a point, but actually having him at my level felt odd. “The fact is, that bastard’s goons have seen your face. They killed Lizard because he was spreading the word, and the only reason they didn’t kill you was because you’re quick witted. I know about that hidden knife in your boot. I’ve seen you use it before, and the fact that it’s hidden so well is the only reason you weren’t arrested for murder. But it won’t be long before he knows the information got out. And it doesn’t take an idiot to put two and two together and figure out it was you who his tongue slipped to. Those are the facts, Anna.” His voice seemed to soften, but it still held its crisp tone. His hardened scowl faded as his gaze seemed to look deep into my eyes, like he could see straight inside my mind. “You slipped out of the compound this morning and didn’t tell anybody where the fuck you were going. Nobody fucking knew. That bastard’s goons could have been waiting at your house for you and shot you in the back of your head in a second. That’s a fact.” Wolf took a deep breath. His aged, worn face softened. “I don’t want one of my brothers to come to me one day and tell me they got to you. That’s one thing I won’t let become fact. But you’ve got to work with me, Anna. You’ve got to stop being so reckless.”
I knew he was right. I had been reckless when I went to meet Lizard, even if we’d gained valuable information. I did it for the club, and as much as my reasoning had been justified, it didn’t mean my methods were.
I studied his face. Taking in the age lines in his forehead and the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. He had laugh lines on either side of his mouth, shadowed by an unshaven jaw. He looked older than his forty-five years, and I knew part of that probably had to do with me, but I knew part of it didn’t, too. Wolf had these whiskey-colored eyes that had seen the bottom of a bottle one too many times. They were eyes that had been worn long before he ever reached the shores of the United States.
I looked into those eyes and let a small smile pull on my lips. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, and for good reason, since I leaned forward and whispered, “You still haven’t said thank you.”
Wolf’s breath came out of him in a heavy, long sigh that told me he had all but given up hope for me as he grumbled under his breath. “You want me to thank you?” His head snapped back up with a speed that made me jump. His eyes traced down over me to where I sat on his bed, and I watched as they darkened. “I will thank you.”
I quickly jumped and darted out of his reach as he stood to his feet. I bounced over the opposite side of the bed, my arms at the ready to defend myself, eyes searching for whatever I could use as a weapon. When I realized he hadn’t made a move toward me, I took my turn to narrow my eyes on him.
I watched as a long, saccharine smile curved on his face before he turned and walked out the room without a word.
I had a bad feeling about this...
“This isn’t what I call a thank you,” I snapped, my hands going to my hips.
Wolf didn’t even bother to look at me as he grumbled, “Quit bitching and get in.”
I looked down at the long, silky, red sheets that I’d sat on an hour ago before I’d been notified of their sudden importance in my life. Wolf had the thin sheet pulled up over his shirtless waist as his club tattoo, spanning ever his wide shoulders and back, was presented to me in the dim light. I tried not to let my eyes run down the smoothness of his back and the firm muscles that rippled underneath his broad frame.
“No,” I hissed, seething at what this bastard did to me.
“Anna,” he growled in a low warning. He still wasn’t looking at me. I saw his back vibrate at the sound, and the acoustics of his body piqued my curiosity—not enough for me to get over being pissed at him, however.
“No. Why did you change the sleeping arrangements?” I snapped, looking down at my pitiful pile of bags in the corner of the room before looking back to the bed. “I don’t see why I should be in here with you.”
“Because nobody else wanted your demanding ass. Now get into bed.”
“Of course, they want my ass. It’s a great ass,” I argued then turned back to my bags. I picked one up, aware of Wolf finally turning over in the bed.
“You’re right,” Wolf said, and I turned to find his eyes glued to my ass, my thin cotton leggings and plain tee that I had changed into earlier doing little to hide my physique. “Now, park it in the bed before I come and put you in it myself.”
I leveled my gaze at him. “You know what? I can see you’re going to be pissy about this whole thing, so I’ll just go share with someone else.” I reached down for my bags but didn’t get more than two on my arms before I felt Wolf appear behind me and grab me by the waist.
I watched my bags land on the floor as I was hurled into the air. I could barely let out a small screech before I landed on the hard bed, thrusting all the air out of my lungs, and tried to catch my breath before Wolf’s long, hard body surrounded mine. His thick arms circled around my stomach from behind as his body dropped in beside me. My petite body fit into the curve of his so perfectly it became my custom-fit jail cell as I struggled to even move an inch away.
“Wolf!” I snapped, scratching at his arms.
The fat bastard ignored me, choosing to release one hand to grab the thin sheet and pull it over us both. He hit the light switch on the wall before letting his arm wind around my stomach.
I continued to threaten his balls for the next ten minutes, but when he didn’t stir, I finally gave a huff of defeat, letting my frustration fade from my body as I relaxed against him.
I turned my head enough to see his face resting with his nose pushed into the crook of my neck. Soft, warm breaths rolled over my skin. His eyes were closed and his body slack, but the arms around my stomach were like a vice locking me in, and I had to wonder whether he was really asleep. Then again, W
olf had taken a large swig of whiskey before climbing into bed the first time. He had found a new bottle, which he’d forced Jax to taste first in case I put bleach in there again, the risk acting as punishment for his moonshine antics at the beginning of the week.
In all fairness, Jax was the only one to survive without a hangover after a night of moonshine. Everyone else drank enough that they didn’t really get hangovers, but when Jax whipped the homemade liquor out after everyone was already smashed, there was a slim chance of survival.
But even without his moonshine, Wolf could drink himself into a sleep that not even the apocalypse could wake him from.
I looked at the wall to where I could see a faint slither of red in the darkness standing out against the black paint. His room had once been red, but after I did a slight remodel, he was forced to paint it black to cover up the baby pink and My Little Pony stickers I had managed to cover the wall in. He hadn’t woken a single time then, either.
My gaze trailed down to my stomach, or more specifically, to the hands tightened around it. The thin sheet had slipped down his broad shoulders and now rested against his hips again, which was fine since the bastard had a body temperature of a volcano, so I was hot even without it. It had been one of my many complaints that he had ignored.
Despite my better judgment, my small hands reached up and skimmed over his. My fingers mapped out each tattoo inked into his skin. Many people overlooked his tattoos because they just fit with his biker image to the point that nobody really questioned him. But I knew different. As my eyes looked over his worn hands, I could see the life he had left behind in Russia. From the forked cross on one finger to the skull, gun, and knife and the letter K on the back of his hand, naming him as a killer. There were a few others I recognized; jail time tattoos at tough prisons, Xs on each of his knuckles keeping score of the number of times in prison, totaling up to six, and the small bird on his thumbs resembling freedom.
Although I couldn’t see, I also knew he had the outline of a black pawprint etched into the back of his neck. The tattoo was unfinished, and I knew he grew the length of his hair to cover it. It came down to his shoulders at the back, but he always pushed it back away from his face so it often looked shorter than it was. Every so often, I heard him bitch about getting it cut, but even so, he never did.
I’d considered setting it on fire multiple times, even gluing it together, but unfortunately, I neither had glue nor a lighter within reachable distance, not to mention I was pinned to the bed. I tried to wriggle forward again, but he didn’t move, so I finally allowed myself to admit that I wasn’t going anywhere.
I breathed in the deep smell of smoke and whiskey as his breath tickled my shoulder. I paid too much attention to it as it left soft tingles over my skin, and before I knew it, my breath had synced with his. With each breath in, my chest rose, and with each one out, my own chest sank. The monotonous attention to each one had my eyes growing heavy, and his smothering heat sent me into a drowsy spiral until soon enough, I was swept into a deep sleep.
The nightmares came in the early hours of the morning. My exhaustion only provided me with enough protection for a few hours of dreamless sleep before blood began pooling at my feet as I looked down to see my chest riddled with bullet holes. And then there I was, looking up at myself, realizing I had taken Lizard’s part, looking at my mask of coldness as I died in my own arms, choking on my own blood and wondering when it was that I lost the ability to cry.
I wished I hadn’t thought of the question, because suddenly, I was back in that room, looking down at the papers, at the knife wedged in the victim’s chest, blood having poured out of their chest and out onto the old, worn bricks of the house they took their last breath in.
I panicked, my hands reaching into the photograph, trying to wipe away the blood until it seeped through my fingers. Then abruptly, they weren’t looking at me anymore. Lizard was, his eyes a ghostly white, his lips moving, forming the words I never wanted to hear.
“This is your fault.”
I was thrown into the darkness of a room, disorientated and panicked as I fought to catch my breath. My body was covered in a cold sweat, and my hands were grasping around me, trying to feel anything. Where was I? What was happening?
Suddenly, something caught my wrist, and I opened my mouth to scream.
“Anna!” a familiar voice called to me. I knew the accent. I knew the voice.
“Wolf?” I breathed.
“Yeah,” Wolf grumbled, his hands coming to my biceps. “It’s me, Anna. You’re at the club. You’re fine.”
I dug through my haze, and one by one, I strung reality back together with my memories; the shooting, Wolf yelling at me, telling me to get into bed, and... I looked around the dark room, or more specifically, Wolf’s room. When I had conceded to Wolf’s persistence to get into his bed, I was planning to wait him out until he fell asleep before I went to find one of the other club rooms to crash in. I must have crashed here instead.
“Shit,” I breathed, feeling a cool breeze nip on my bare skin.
I looked down to see the huge T-shirt covering my chest and followed the material down to where it gathered at my bare thighs.
“My clothes?” I said, my voice dipping low in warning as I looked up to see Wolf’s face.
Unfortunately for me, Wolf had no such shame, and with a slow, smug smirk, he said, “You don’t sleep in clothes.”
“Um, I do,” I argued. I usually slept in silver nighties and sexy pajamas because it felt good falling asleep knowing you looked sexy as fuck, without needing anybody to tell you that. I didn’t bring them here though, not if it meant Wolf getting a high out of it.
“You were tossing in your sleep. Your clothes were wet with sweat. I had them changed for you,” he explained, letting his dark eyes roll down over my attire with slow, satisfying appraisal. “Fuck, Hunter said it before, but I didn’t think I’d like you in my shirt as much as I do.”
Just the mere idea that he was enjoying it made me grab the hem of the shirt, pull it over my head, and drop it into a pile on the bed without a second of hesitation. I folded my arms over my black laced bra and raised my brow at him, daring him to challenge me.
Wolf smiled. “Fuck, I love it when you do shit like that.” He drooled over my lace bra and panties despite having probably already done it earlier when he’d—
“I didn’t,” he interrupted my thought.
“Didn’t what?”
“I didn’t strip you,” he said, smirking at my surprise. “You were dead asleep, so I got Kay to do it. Made me hand over one of my shirts, since your tits are too big for her or Bell’s clothes. And all your clothes are tight as fuck.”
“Hmm,” I murmured, looking down at where my breasts were packed into my lace bra as if I only just realized their size.
When I looked back up and saw Wolf also giving them a thoughtful look, I growled.
“Feel free to put the shirt back on,” he offered, lifting the material back up off the bed and offering it to me without taking his eyes off my chest. “Either way, I’m good.”
“You know what?” I hissed, snatching the shirt out of his hands as I scrambled out of the bed. “Fuck you,” I hissed, then pulled the shirt back on over my head. I turned to leave, but Wolf’s hand lunged for my wrist so fast I didn’t have time to move out of his reach.
“Where are you going?” he growled.
“I’ll sleep somewhere else,” I snapped, returning to my original plan of commandeering one of the empty rooms in the compound.
“No.” Wolf’s stern voice made me stagger to a stop.
“No?” I parroted, sure he didn’t just say that to me.
“No.”
“What makes you think you have any right to tell me what to do?” I growled.
The second the words left my mouth, my wrist was yanked downward, and a small yelp managed to escape from my mouth as I felt my body fall forward. His hands came up around my sides as he lifted me with ease u
ntil I found myself straddling his lap, my lace panties providing barely any protection from the heat of his body warming my cool cheeks.
I looked up to argue, but apparently, his point wasn’t made as his eyes locked onto mine, and suddenly, I felt as if I couldn’t move.
“You’re not sleeping alone tonight, Anna,” Wolf said, his brown eyes determined. “Not after what happened to you. And not after what just happened two minutes ago.”
“It was just a nightmare, Wolf. I’m not five. I’ll get over it,” I grumbled, my voice softer now.
“I don’t care.” Wolf wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, its huge size making my spine feel tiny and fragile under his grasp. I tilted my head back to meet his eyes as he lowered his. “You almost died, Anna. Somebody died in front of you. I’m not letting you face that alone.”
The empathy his voice held drew out the vulnerability I was trying to hide. It made me feel exposed, and my heart swelled with a deep-seated, heavy feeling that kept me pinned to his lap.
I looked into his whiskey-colored eyes, remembering the times when I used to joke that Wolf’s eyes were once a clearer color that had been dyed over the years since he had started taking a bottle of whiskey to bed.
The heat of his hand against my skin felt warmer as the openness in Wolf’s gaze reminded me of the half-finished paw-mark on the back of his neck. I reached up, my hand brushing along his collarbone, following the curves and ridges of his muscles, and his shoulder as I extended back under his long hair until my small fingers brushed over where I knew the tattoo rested. Wolf’s body tensed, but it only lasted a moment before he put his defenses down and his body relaxed.
I ran my fingers along the skin, the tattoo so old it had lost any of the ridges on his skin. I was so lost in the feeling of it that I didn’t notice the soft words slipping from my lips. “What do you dream of, Wolf?”
“I don’t dream,” Wolf whispered, not surprised or hesitant to answer. “Never dream.”