Resurfaced Passion (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 6)

by V. Theia

  * * *

  “Hey, Hermano, you awake?”

  “No, I’m dead. What is it, Capone?” Flopping over to his back, Reaper threw an arm over his face and tested out his eyes. The brightness in the room didn’t burn and he was left with only a dull, sluggish ache in his left temple now. That kind of pain was manageable.

  “You mind?” The man in the doorway indicated to the chair over by the window and Reaper nodded. He sat up in bed, the blankets pooled around his waist while he rubbed the sleep from his face and saw it was only 9:30 pm.

  Once he’d closed the door and parked himself on the chair, Capone leaned forward and rested both his arms on his spread knees, looking over at Reaper.

  “Just go with what I’m gonna say for a second, okay?”

  With no clue what the guy was on about, Reaper had a thought to kicking him out and going back to sleep for a day or two, instead he listened.

  “So, don’t take this the wrong way, papi, but you got a thing for the diner girl, or am I reading it all wrong?” Alert. Reaper’s eyes narrowed to dark, warning slits. If this was another Arson situation with Capone about to declare feelings of the dick kind for Paige then he was in for a world of fucking pain.

  Capone immediately laughed and held up a hand. “Okay, I take it by the dog growling that’s a yes.”

  Reaper didn’t confirm shit. Just stared.

  “Get on with it, Cap. What the fuck is this about?”

  His boys looked slightly taken aback when he strung more than two grunts together at once. It was Preacher who tagged him with the road name Reaper on his first week since he was so quiet, and no one saw or heard him moving around the MC. It stuck ever since.

  He might not be much of a talker now, but he’d sure throw the fuck down if Capone was looking in Paige’s direction. His silence spoke volumes where she was concerned, and every damn guy better just start to understand that.

  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d knocked someone out for wanting her. “Chill out, man. You’re barking up the wrong tree, papi,” Capone smirked, rubbing a hand on his clipped facial hair. “My heart was taken a long time ago, sí?”

  It was the first Reaper was hearing of it. If Capone had a woman then she was either invisible or so small he could hide her in his goatee. Stuff as inconsequential like taking note of who his boys were banging never entered Reaper’s field of vision because he’d been so focused elsewhere for years, dealing with his own business.

  He felt like a shitty friend, in all honesty.

  He rocked up for the MC when it was needed. For fights, to be backup for any of them. But as for emotional shit? He knew nothing.

  In the last few years some of the club boys had hooked up to really great women, even had kids, Reaper barely knew those girls, he never took the time to have a conversation. He could give a torrent of excuses, but the truth was his whole energy, every single day, was somewhere else. Trying to breathe. Trying to live. Trying to just get through those minutes and hours of this new life.

  Clearing his throat, he swung his legs out of the bed and pulled on a pair of boxer briefs, then sat on the end of the bed and asked. “You got a girl?”

  Capone half-smiled and shook his head. “Nah, Reap. But it doesn’t matter, sí? When you’re taken, you’re taken.”

  Fuck, didn’t he know it. He lived that shit.

  “It also means you don’t look at a woman your boy is taken by.”

  Reaper’s muscles stiffened and he shot Capone a sharp glare.

  Capone laughed. “You really are a pit-bull. Listen, it’s not me. But we were all just at Otis’ and your girl, well, papi, it looks like you lost your spot, because she was definitely on a date with some preppy looking guy in a sweater. I thought you should hear it from one of us. We’ve never asked why you just don’t date her, fuck her, marry her and give her an old lady patch, whatever, sí? You’re a private guy, we get it. Besides, Preach and Snake overshare enough for all of us.” Capone tried to joke but all Reaper heard was white noise rushing through his ears.

  Paige was on a date?

  On. A. Date. With. A. Guy.

  What the fuck.

  He’d never felt rage like it for a long time, crushing pain stabbed through his middle gut.

  He was pulling on his discarded jeans and a shirt over his head before he knew it, then pushing his feet down into his boots.

  “You can’t go there, Reaper. I was just giving you the heads up about it, so you’re not blindsided if she rocks up with a boyfriend.”

  He pinned his friend with a violent stare. Blood covering Reaper’s vision. His bones felt old as he swung into his leather jacket and pulled out the beanie hat from his pocket and yanked it down over his ears. “Can’t I? Watch me.”

  “Whoa.” Capone was in front of him in seconds. He was a little taller, but Reaper would knock him to the ground if he had to.

  No one got in his way when it concerned Paige.

  “Take a breath, papi. If you wanna go charging in, then take a fucking breath and I’ll go with you.” Two hands covered Reaper’s shoulders. “You want this girl? Then do it right, don’t go guns blazing. She’s on a date, not screwing the guy on top of the bar.”

  It was the wrong thing to say to Reaper because he felt the rage build on his face, hurtling up through his voice box in a deep growl between his clenched teeth.

  Logic told him to leave her alone. To let her be happy. To smile across a table at a guy who hadn’t done the things Reaper had.

  Pity it wasn’t logic who walked Reaper out of his room and through the club, one heavy step at a time. Pity it wasn’t logic who rode all the way to Otis’ bar above the speed limit with a head full of fury and a heart ramming up against his ribcage.

  Pained and terrified what he might see.

  She was his.

  Capone parked and followed him inside.

  His eyes scanned and as pissed off as he was, the moment he caught sight of pink hair sitting dead center of the bar at a table with who could only be a dead fucker walking, his dick hardened like a two by four.

  So fucking hard and happy to see her unharmed.. untouched.

  A hand clasped his shoulder from behind and a low voice hushed by his ear. “You good, Reaper?”

  Was he good? Was he murderous?

  She looked like she was having a nice time talking to the guy. Could he ruin that for her?

  He nodded to Capone, never taking his eyes from that middle table.

  “I’ll be over there with the others. Be cool, papi. Women like romance, not seeing tables broken, sí? But we’re here if you need help smashing his bones.”

  It was smart advice. Really it was, but Reaper couldn’t think around being smart, not when Paige was looking so fucking lovely and her smile radiated through him.

  That should be me. He thought. It should be me across from her saying funny shit to impress her.

  Otis’ was predominantly a biker bar for the most part. Locals came in, but it was filled with those in clubs, and not all from the RSMC either. He spotted a few from the Apollo Kingsmen and even those assholes the Diablo’s, he couldn’t stand those guys, but no faces registered as he walked through the crowd, imagining a dozen kind of ways just how he’d pulverize this guy with his dickhead hair and buttoned-down blazer who was regarding Paige with lust in his fucking eyes.

  What the fuck had this guy been thinking bringing Paige to a place like this for? He didn’t like the reason he came up with. A guy looking like him, instead of taking her to a fancy place to eat, he brought her to a rough biker bar.w Like his Paige wasn’t good enough for anywhere fancy and expensive. Like this guy was ashamed of her. It only fueled Reaper’s unhinged temper.

  Dickhead hair him first and he rightly appeared startled from the stare Reaper was throwing at him.

  Reaper wasn’t here to play.

  Rushes of possessiveness kept him walking until Paige’s attention was drawn to him.

  He watched color flood her cheeks. G
uilt in her eyes.

  He couldn’t smile. Fucking hell, he didn’t know how to smile, not when he was keeping his temper in check.

  This was wrong. He needed to walk away and let her have her happiness. Fuck that. Fuck it all. He hated seeing someone else looking at Paige the same way he did.

  Meet misery. His permanent friend.

  The next thing he pulled out the spare chair, the wood scraped against the floor, sounding like bullets going off even with the loud music and the crowd of people around them.

  Reaper saw no one but her.

  Resting two hands on the table, laced together, he breathed in her scent.

  “Reaper… what… what are you doing here?”

  Here for you, baby. Always here for you.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “101 ways on how not to declare your intentions.” – Paige

  Strong angled jaw. Plump lips pressed into two thin lines, the ends of his hair were wavy under the hat and brushing against that same angry jaw.

  Oh, yeah. Paige was looking across at a quietly seething Reaper, and for a long minute her brain couldn’t join the dots connecting the Reaper she knew, to the one she was looking at with his handsome jaw ticking the muscle erratically.

  It was as though he was two people.

  God help her, she didn’t hate what she was seeing, but she had a whole lot of questions buzzing around her brain.

  Her belly began twisting.

  He was sitting across from her after dragging the chair open enough for him to wedge himself in, yet she felt like he was all over her.

  “We’re kind of in the middle of something here, friend.” Carson finally spoke. A nervousness to his voice and fingers. Not surprising with the way Reaper turned his head to glare at him.

  Paige swallowed and laid her hand on Carson’s forearm for a second to let him know it was alright.

  It was the wrong thing to do because the noise that came out of Reaper, a hot thunderous sound zipped straight through the middle of her body. A violent noise, she about fainted right there on her bar chair.

  It was heat and destruction and it was so damn sexy that she was now sitting in wet panties. Being around Reaper, in whatever form, always felt like they were halfway through foreplay just from glances alone. It was hot and disturbing.

  She took her hand back immediately and watched him watching her while she tucked her fingers in her lap, a wordless exchange that held a lot of meaning she didn’t fully understand.

  “Who the hell is this guy?” Carson asked and Paige wanted to tell him to shut up.

  “He’s my friend.”

  “Who I am is none of your business.”

  Reaper spoke over her in a tone sharp enough to strip paint.

  She wasn’t sure she believed in signs, but if she did, having the man she’d been trying desperately to push out of her mind all night suddenly appear like an avenging demon to break up her date pretty much looked like a sign to Paige.

  She didn’t know whether to wiggle with joy or be pissed off at his timing.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked again, noticing he his boys were across the bar and were craning their necks unashamedly watching this all go down.

  Paige had no clue what was happening, and her racing heart was no help whatsoever. She couldn’t stop the thrum of excitement making the ends of her fingertips numb as she clasped them together. It was a constantly occurrence around Reaper, before she schooled herself and locked it away and just acted as his friend and not a woman who wanted to lick all over his face and lay her head on his belly to sleep. But those first few minutes in his company, it was fourth of July rockets inside her pastel Vicky S underwear.

  She was a terrible date because her focus became all about Reaper, leaving poor Carson out in the cold.

  “You didn’t mention you had a…boyfriend, Paige.” Carson accused with a nasty bite to his voice. His eyes when she looked over were equally scathing.

  She blinked at his change in demeanor. Sure, it was a shock to have another guy sit down at their table, but she wouldn’t have expected him to glare daggers at her in that way.

  “He’s not.”

  “You don’t listen too good, do you? Who the fuck I am to her is none of your business, but it’s time for you to go.” Reaper addressed Carson in a low, deep voice. Make no mistake anyone hearing it would know it came with a side order of a threat.

  “What the fuck?”

  Paige had to agree.

  He’d gone from marginally toe-curling hot to … overbearingly bossy in seconds. How dare he decide when her date was over?

  “You’re embarrassing me, Reaper. Go back to your friends.”

  “After he leaves.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on fucking end.

  She’d waited and waited for any kind of sign from him that he wanted to take her out of the friendzone. They spent Christmases together, for flips sake. He bought her birthday gifts and cake and he was always there if she needed something and in all this time, it was nada on the romantic front.

  She’d accepted it.

  Now she didn’t know what this behavior meant. Big brother over protection?

  It was mortifying, is what it was. She sent Carson an apologetic smile and found him scowling at her.

  She’d felt no attraction whatsoever, and suspected it was the same for him, but she thought they’d been having a nice conversation.

  She climbed to her feet and both men looked up.

  She gave her attention to the broody one with the beanie hat pulled down almost over his eyebrows and his aura spiking her libido like she was a drum and he had the sticks and rhythm.

  “I’m going to use the restroom and you’ll be gone by the time I come back, Reaper, so I can continue with my date.”

  She left them both there and rushed to the ladies with her red face and her insides tight with knots.

  She wasn’t mad.

  She wasn’t.

  Not even an inch of crossness.

  Nope.

  She was shaking when the door behind her suddenly swung open. Expecting another girl needing the facilities she straightened to see Reaper closing the door behind him.

  “Oh my god. Are you seriously deranged right now? You can’t follow me into the bathroom, Reaper. What’s going on with you?”

  “Get rid of him.” He all but growled striding forward until she was forced to back her feet up, her butt hit the ceramic basins.

  His beast was showing beneath his otherwise quiet skin and Paige was… enthralled by his ruffled fur.

  In contrast to his obvious discomfort? Anger? Whatever it was, Reaper reached out and moved a strand of hair against her cheek.

  Fire flash-flooded through her.

  His infrequent touch was mind-fucking her so hard she didn’t know whether she’d need to be tested for some sexually frustrated disease afterward.

  She craved his attention like a drug.

  It was so unfair, so flipping unfair, all those emotions and sexually unfulfilled feelings poured out of the box she kept them in, because they were friends. And nothing more.

  A man that …competent, she just had a feeling he would be spectacular in bed and for that pussy-melting thought she’d always had to lock most of her feelings for him away.

  Now it was like a runaway train between her throbbing legs.

  For a split second he looked so desperate that guilt pinched at her nerve endings but before she knew it, she heard him mutter ‘fuck it’ and he whipped her around to face the long mirror. She gasped as he wrapped her hands on the cold ceramic, moving his body into her back, she was hyper aware of his heat stroking through her clothes. So much so that his image appeared in the mirror behind hers and Paige stopped breathing.

  “You see that woman there?” He never broke his gaze, his mouth practically brushing against her ear as he leaned over her shoulder. “You see how her cheeks color at the slightest provocation? They do that when she’s happy, when s
he’s mad, or embarrassed. They also turn that pink when she’s aroused.”

  That air Paige couldn’t find? Yeah, it whooshed right back into her lungs like a speeding bullet on a plummeting aircraft. She wanted to tell him he couldn’t say things like that, not to her, not after he’d placed her in the friend box long ago.

  It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right.

  And it felt amazing to hear.

  To feel him along her back, his denim rough against the back of her thighs as her dress worked its way up an inch, crowding his massive body into hers so she had no choice but to stand in the confines of his arms and experience his rusty words caressing against her ear.

  Within seconds he had her breathless.

  His burning eyes in the mirror took lust directly between her legs, making her clit ache for his fingers.

  “That woman in the mirror doesn’t settle for fuck-boys, Paige.”

  “He’s not a—”

  “She’s too damn good for him,” he hissed.

  Scorching fire bursts through her veins as the vibrations abraded against her neck, it heated her muscles, melted her skin. Made her nothing but boneless satisfaction and without realizing she was doing it, Paige leaned back into him.

  Reaper’s hand came to rest under her chin making sure she didn’t look away. “Look at the woman in the mirror and know she’s too fucking good for the likes of him out there.”

  “Wh-what about you?” She whispered, eye-to-eye in the glass. She felt each hard inhale, like he’d been running for days. The moment was palpable. “Am I too good for you too?”

  There. She’d said it. It was out now, and she couldn’t take back the words even if she wanted to.

  Those burning amber’s were totally centered on her and he twitched like he was about to bolt. She didn’t give him a chance, not this time. Not after he forced this situation for reasons only Reaper knew but Paige was determined to find out.

  She turned around, brushing every inch of her body against every long inch of his. She fought back a moan, he felt so good—strong and amazing.

  Her hearing worked just fine when she caught him hissing, his head dropped a little and he continued breathing heavily.