Burning Ember

by Darby Briar

  My gaze is drawn to the vein in his neck. It’s pulsing wildly, making me wonder if his heart is beating as erratically as mine is. My gaze ventures down again, this time to the tattoo sitting at eye level in front of me. It’s in the center of his delicious pec covered by golden skin. I read and reread the bible verse inked in small, cursive letters. I try and fail to understand the meaning of it. But it’s about darkness, light, and death. All the things I see when I look at him.

  His hand cups the back of my neck. He squeezes once and puts his thumb under my chin so he can lift my face to meet his. His tongue comes out and sweeps against the cut on his lip, and my eyes follow. I’m drawn back to the kiss we shared and I remember in vivid detail the way his mouth felt against mine, demanding and hungry, soft and yet savage. Like he’s been famished for half a decade and I’m the only sustenance he needs to survive.

  His breath washes over my cheek, sending a tremor of need down my body. “If you’re gonna hit me, Doll. You better do it now.” The huskiness of his voice has my eyes flying up to his.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re lookin’ at me like I got somethin’ you need. I can’t fuckin’ stand here and not give it to you. Not when I want nothin’ more than another taste of your sweet mouth.”

  His eyes dart behind me and back to my face. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck’all who sees me takin’ it, but you probably do. So hit me. Or I’ll be tastin’ you again, Doll. And I’m not likely to stop anytime soon.”

  Birds take flight, going all different directions inside my belly. I stare up at him. Was that a threat or a promise?

  His dark and intense gaze tells me it’s both. He backs up a step. “C’mon . . . Make this right between us. Hit me. Give it all you got.”

  I mentally shake myself from the lust-filled daze he has me under. Yes, I want him, but I also want to give him back a small slice of the pain he’s thrown at me.

  “Okay.” I firmly plant my feet on the mat. I practice my punch one more time slowly. After taking a deep breath, I prepare to launch my fist at his face. But I’m hesitant. He’s already bruised and beyond handsome, and hitting him feels wrong.

  “Think of it as payback for me being a dick,” he says.

  Nodding, I dig through my arsenal of bitter memories of what he’s put me through since arriving here. The insults. The death stares. The disgusting jobs I’ve had to do around the club. Him siccing Taz on me.

  My anger builds.

  Attacking me last night was the last straw and either I do this or I need to leave. Staying will only tell him and every other biker here, I’ll put up with the mistreatment I’ve been given. And I won’t. Not again. Not anymore.

  I pull in a deep breath and launch my fist toward his face. The damn glove barely grazes his jaw.

  I internally growl with frustration. Dammit! I get my one chance for some payback and I screw it up. Ugh . . . Em.

  “It’s all right. Try again,” he encourages.

  I bite my lip.

  “C’mon. Again.” His tone changes. Hardens.

  Waving me forward, he grates out, “Get angry. Curse. Shout. Whatever. Just show me the part of you that’s not a fuckin’ mouse all the time.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are,” he throws back.

  Taz squeaks like a mouse behind me. I spin for a second and shoot him a dirty look, before rotating back to Mav.

  Mav’s darkness is back. It’s hovering around him. He’s angry and I’m confused. Am I not the one being taunted and offended? Shouldn’t I be the one that’s pissed off?

  “You do what we say when we say it. You’ve let me and some of the other brothers treat you like shit. You clean up after messy fuckin’ bikers and the whores that visit the club. You like that job?”

  His words sting. Of course, I don’t like that job.

  With all the sarcasm I can manage, I say, “Yeah, Mav. This is exactly what I dreamed of. I worked my ass off to get out of the hellhole I grew up in, because I wanted to come here and scrub cum off the floors. Clean up after bikers who are too drunk half the time to piss in the toilet.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  Such a simple question. With no simple answer.

  I shake my head.

  “Why, Doll?” He sneers the name like he did that first day. It grates on my every nerve.

  “Because I don’t have the luxury of picking and choosing what I do with my life right now. Unlike you, I’m trying to make the best of my situation. You’re not the only one trying to recover from a bad relationship. And at least I’m not sitting around sulking about it.”

  Holy Hell. Did I just say that to him?

  “Make the best of it? You mean, accept the shitty options you’ve been given.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “In a few days, you know what you’re gonna be? Our little slut. Is that what you want? To be a clubpiece? To be used and fucked and degraded and—”

  “No!”

  “But you’re going to, right? ‘Cause you need the money.”

  I shake my head, trying to deny what we both know is true. “I told you I’d leave. You’re the one making me stay!”

  “And go where? Go whore for someone else?” he growls. “Not fuckin’ happening.”

  White-hot rage crawls up my neck like a live wire being hit with a jolt of electricity. I snarl. Yes, snarl. The sound comes from some place deep inside me. My fist feels like a slingshot as I hurl it through the air toward his face. I swear my bones crunch together as they connect with his solid jaw. Upon impact, his chin snaps to the side. But I keep going as I pound on his chest with both fists. “How dare you fucking judge me!”

  He staggers back two steps.

  “Like your life’s so perfect. You’re an asshole to everyone around you because you can’t cope with a break up. It’s been five . . . FIVE damn years, Mav. Get the fuck over her already.”

  He tosses my hands off him like I’m nothing but a mosquito. “What are you doin’ here?” he snarls back.

  “God, you’re a jerk. I can’t believe . . .” I kissed you.

  Moving forward, crowding into my personal space, he rasps, “What the fuck is a girl like you doing in a place like this, huh?” His chest bumps mine. “Why are you here, Doll?”

  I bite my lip and shake my head.

  “Why?” he shouts in my face and his voice echoes off the walls.

  Throwing my arms wide, I yell, “Because it’s my only option. Out there, I have nothing, no one, and nowhere to go. Is that what you want to hear? Yes, I’m a stray. I’m homeless. Penniless. No, I don’t want to sleep with a clubhouse full of bikers or a bunch of scummy men I don’t know. But I’ll do what I need to do to survive! I have no other option.”

  “Why can’t you go home?”

  I wince and look away so I don’t have to feel his piercing eyes. “I just can’t.”

  “Why?” When I move to leave, he grabs my arms and shakes me. “Why the fuck can’t you go home?”

  I fight his hold but he keeps asking the same question over and over. Why? Why? Why? He won’t let me go and the more I fight him, the stronger his hold on me becomes. I’m so enraged that the words rush unguarded past my lips. “He’ll find me!”

  “Who?” He leans down and peers into my face. “Who’ll find you?”

  Horrified at the knowledge that I’ve said so much, I look anywhere but at him. But Mav grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes.

  “Don’t clam up now, Doll. Come on. Tell me. Who’ll find you? Who are you runnin’ from?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I do, the last month with Warner flashes like a horror movie through my mind. Helplessness and fear ripple down my spine. A whimper escapes me and bile rises in my throat.

  “Doll, tell me.” When I’m still silent he asks, “Your ex?”

  I’m no longer in control of my body, because I nod without wanting to do so.

  His tone drops low. “What’d he
do to you?”

  The iron box in my mind springs open and there’s no shutting it now. Mav wants to know everything. Fine. I tell him. I laugh bitterly, open my eyes, and meet his gaze. “You should ask what didn’t he do. What didn’t he take from me. Because the answer is my life, Mav. That’s the one thing I had left to lose and I wasn’t ready to part with it just yet.”

  Mav’s face hardens. He gets my meaning because the muscle in his jaw begins to tick and his eyes swirl with emotion. Sadness. Regret. Fury. Pity.

  I don’t want his fucking pity. Seeing his face riddled with it makes bubbling lava burn in my veins.

  I force his hand away from my chin, and push him back. “What? Is the truth too ugly for you? Or are you just sorry that your friend won’t have the pleasure of taking my virginity?”

  “Doll—”

  “You want to know the rest, huh? Well the truth is my life’s never been pretty, Mav. It’s been a fucking maze. Full of trials and dead ends. I never had normal. Not even as a child. There were always drugs and creepy men. And too many days where we ate expired food out of a can because that’s all we had. My mom cut out when I was sixteen. Sixteen. I had to drop out of school to help make ends meet. Do you know how hard it is to find a job that pays more than minimum wage when you’re a drop out? It’s impossible. So yes when a rich guy bought me things and paid attention to me, I fell for him hard and fast. Until he showed his true colors and took away everything important to me. Threatened everything I cared about and wouldn’t even so much as let me out of the house unless I was by his side.”

  I blow out a huff of air. “Do you get it now? I’ve learned to fight my battles where I can and work with the shit choices I’ve been given. I’m just trying to stay alive, and how I do that no longer matters to me.”

  Moisture stings behind my eyes. Before the tears can fall in front of Mav, I spin to Taz. Thrusting my hands toward him, I plead, “Please, take them off.”

  Against my will, one tear and then another trail down my face.

  Taz works fast, and the second my hands are free, I’m ducking under the ropes, fleeing as fast as I can across the garage.

  Mav calls out to me.

  I’m almost to the door when steel arms band around me and pull me to a stop. One around my midsection. Another over my chest, and Mav’s rich scent engulfs me. Hugging me tightly to his chest, he whispers, “Fuck. I’m sorry. Jesus . . . I needed to know . . . I had to make sure you wanted more than this.”

  My chest is heaving and tears keep falling. It finally dawns on me why he’s being a dick for no reason. He wanted to know why I’m here. He wanted me to admit that I don’t want to be a clubpiece. That all of this is a last resort for me.

  “Why? Why do you care now? This whole time you’ve tried to run me off. You’ve treated me like shit. Like I mean nothing to you.”

  “You’re somethin’ to me. You’ve been somethin’ to me since the first second I saw you. I’ve just been trying like hell to fight it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the last woman I fell for ripped my world down around me. Put me through hell.”

  “I’m not her.”

  “I know, Doll. Fuck. I know that now.” His voice lowers and he speaks right next to my ear. “You’re better than this place. And fuck, I know you’re too good for me, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”

  My chest expands, fills with warmth.

  “I know I’ve pushed you away to the point you want to go, and I know I don’t deserve one, but I can fix this. I want a chance to fix this.”

  With every bone in my body, I ache to give in to him. But I’m so angry and so wary of his moods. How can I believe him when he’s turned on me at every opportunity?

  I can’t.

  The silence stretches between us until I ask, “Are you going to stop me if I want to leave?”

  He sighs and drops his head into the curve of my neck. His arms tighten around me. “It’s your life. You’re free to do whatever you want. I won’t stop you if that’s what you feel you need to do. But I really fuckin’ hope you stay. I’m better than this. I swear to fuckin’ Christ I am. Let me prove it.”

  A snake coils around my heart. The same snake that’s been there since the moment I met Mav. I raise my hand and cover his arm around my stomach for a few seconds. I soak up the feel of him. There is something here. Being in his arms feels like it’s where I’m supposed to be. I can’t explain why. Without permission, he’s seared himself onto my heart. Lit a fire so deep inside me, I don’t know if it’ll ever burn out. And I know no matter where I go from here, every moment we have shared will stay with me.

  The good and the bad.

  I step out of his arms, and he reluctantly lets me go. I don’t give him an answer and he doesn’t demand one. Maybe because he knows what the answer will be if I have to make it right now.

  The cost of freedom comes in many different forms.

  EMBER

  I was fighting more than Luce in that ring. My frustrations with life have been mounting for a while with all of the people and decisions that have brought me to this point. It was only a matter of time before they came rushing out.

  I’m twenty-two years old and I have never once lived a day the way I want to live it. At least, not that I can remember. My life has been a series of obstacles. People and things that needed my attention. For more years than I care to count, I’ve put other people’s needs before my own.

  First, it was working to help my mom pay the bills. When she disappeared on us, I had to work day and night to keep a roof over our heads, not to mention food in the cupboards.

  Sundown, left to her own devices, got pregnant at fifteen. She couldn’t hold down a job, and she didn’t know how to care for a baby—nor did she want to—so for nearly four years, I provided and cared for Will.

  I became her mother.

  My sister popped in and out of our lives. Partly my fault, I should have put my foot down with her early on. But how could I? Our mother sold her prettiest daughter for money. My sister had a justifiable reason for being fearful and restless. She hated staying in the home she was victimized in, but moving wasn’t a luxury we could afford.

  I sympathized with her. I didn’t blame her for needing to nullify the pain and dull the memories with men and alcohol. I just hated that it came as a detriment to Will and me.

  When she finally hit rock bottom, she showed up at the door half-dead, beaten black and blue, and twenty pounds under weight. She never told me what happened, but afterward she decided to get clean and stay that way. At first, she’d been just another mouth to feed, but to my surprise, she started waitressing part time and let me help her apply for state assistance.

  That’s when I met Warner. He was attending a conference in the hotel where I worked. He went out of his way to run into me and strike up a conversation.

  I fell . . . hook . . . line . . . and sinker for his heavenly blue eyes and sweet all-American boy charm. How could I not? He doted on me, brought me flowers, and took me to the nicest restaurants. He paid my bills, gave me extra money to spend not only on myself, but also on Will and Sunny. I did things with Warner that I’d only dreamed of. For the first time in my life, I had pretty dresses and nice shoes. Sunglasses. I had never owned a pair of sunglasses before. They were a want, not a need, and I’d only had money for needs.

  After four months of dating, Warner asked me to move in with him. He slowly but surely convinced me that Sunny would never fulfill her rightful role as Will’s mom until I stepped out of her way. He said I was keeping them from having a real mother and daughter relationship, and Will needed her mother. A small part of me had been thinking the same thing for a long time, and his comments made me feel guilty and selfish until I finally conceded.

  What I didn’t realize at the time, was that by persuading me to move away from them, he was starting to distance me from everyone in my life.

  And moving away from Will was the hardest thing I’ve
ever had to do. The only exception is living every day like I do now, without seeing her face or hearing her voice. Not only because it felt as if I had ripped out my heart and handed it over to my unreliable sister to care for, but because the anxiety I experienced was insurmountable. What if Sunny decided she wasn’t ready to be a mom again? What if she started drinking again? What if she brought men over?

  I worried constantly.

  To the point that it affected my relationship with Warner and my job performance. Warner said I should just quit working. If you’re going to cook and clean for anyone, it might as well be me. I had no problem with that. Then he told me to stop calling Sundown so much to check in, she was fine. I needed to give her and Will some space to bond, give Sunny some room to make mistakes and learn from them.

  Then more little nudges came. He didn’t want me driving at night. He was worried when I drove at all. The new maid could pick up anything I needed.

  The little things though started to pile up, and eventually, I realized I was losing control and handing it all over to him. With each day, I grew more and more scared of what new liberty he’d take away next.

  Sexually, at first, he took our relationship slow. I wasn’t totally inexperienced, but I was still a virgin, and since I had waited twenty-one years for the right man to come along, I was both nervous and terrified of having sex. He relieved my fears early on by promising to wait until we were married.

  Then for reasons I can’t explain, he grew impatient and angry with me. He grabbed me often and his soft touches turned hard. His kisses became hungry, his hands began to wander, and all the softer parts of him fell away. The charming and generous man I’d met disappeared.

  One night, his promise to wait until marriage went up in smoke.

  There was no romance. No tenderness. He took my virginity while I was face down on the kitchen floor, after the backhanded slap I had received, which had sent me there. The tile was white and the contrast of the blood from both the cut on my mouth and my broken hymen finally snapped me out of the daze. I kept telling myself it would get better. But as I cleaned the blood from the floor, I realized that was a lie. Things were only going to get worse.