by Jax Hart
After my words whispered above. I let go. Completely let go and give all my locked-up passion back to him. My shirt comes off. Pressed skin to skin—we roll. He places me on top of him. His hooded eyes glitter as he watches his own hands palm my tiny breasts, completely covering them. I move my hips against the hardness under his loin cloth. He chuckles low. “My bride. How I’ve dreamed we’d spend the night here. Just like our ancestors did. I made you a bridal bed. Do you like it?”
He rolls again, hands at my jeans, trying to take them off. I can’t let it go this far. Taking this from him would be too cruel. A sin that can’t be undone. I stop his hands. “Not yet. Kiss me some more. Cherish me more.”
“Anything. Anything you want. I’ll always be anything you need.” He stares so intently at me; I swear his gaze goes right through me to my soul. I believe him. I shake my head worried at what kind of cocktail of drugs could ever make him believe I’m her. But it’s clear he’s on it. So, under its spell he’s not the Tarak I met. He’s the man who no one else sees. Out here in the wild, he’s not an MC Prez. He’s just her heart. And she’s his. I’m just the stand-in. The unwanted interloper who can’t stop taking this moment and wishing it was really hers to have.
He kisses me. Pins me down against the soft down sleeping roll and touches me in long lazy strokes. The feel of his smooth skin contradicts his muscles carved from steel. My hands memorize him, tracing every muscle of his back and biceps. But he’s impatient. His hands again go for my jeans. “I need to taste you, baby.” His mouth moves down my navel, he looks up wickedly at me and peels my jeans past my hips. My cry echoes across the rocks to the valley below as his tongue parts my folds finding my swollen clit that’s starved for a man’s touch. I cry for it when it finally happens. I feel like I’ve stuck my hand in a light socket. I’ve never felt so alive. So completely alive, and very aware I’ve overstepped the invisible line I drew back in the sand somewhere.
He doesn’t stop. My hand fists in his hair, my hips move up into his decadent touch. I cry out, pant like I’m running a race and approaching the finish line as he adds the touch of his hand to me.
Then I’m weightless, shooting past the stars; soaring high into the sky. “Mandy. Please, baby,” he rasps, with all the love in his soul in his eyes. Tears prick my eyes. I can give him this. Give this poor man a stolen memory the way he gave me one.
This time my hands shake as he rolls to his side next to me and my hands reach between us, go under his buckskin cloth, and wrap around him. His eyes shut. He grits his teeth hissing as if I’m causing him great pain. “Don’t stop,” he begs.
I moan, still feeling the aftershocks of his hands and mouth in me. On me. My breasts are tender and sore from where his mouth pulled and tugged on them. My skin is chafed from his beard. He’s marked my body. I’m drunk on his love. Completely jealous of Mandy and disbelieving she cheated on him. His touch is unrivaled. Unparalleled. I feel for Edge. Two hours ago, I thought he was the king. But now I know better. No wonder Edge hates Tarak. Being a close second is still not number one.
My hands sheath him. He’s so hot, he’s fire itself. I move up and down by instinct. I haven’t done anything like this in years. But that doesn’t seem to matter. I wonder if maybe it’s been a while for him. Maybe he clung to the ghost of her love and never wavered. He’s thick in my hands and I know he’s close as he tenses, and his shaft gets even harder if that’s even possible. “Mandy. My love. Forever,” he promises, grabbing my face for a passionate kiss as he empties himself in my hands in wave after hot wave.
He rips the cloth from his hips, uses it to clean up and curves his naked body around mine. I turn my face to the fire as he spoons me. Tears fall from my eyes. What we shared was beautiful. I never expected his heartbreak to bleed into me, breaking mine into smithereens. I feel so safe. So, loved. He holds me tight. The drugs, the spent passion and the warmth from the fire puts him out. I need to leave; need to sneak away like the love thief I am. But I can’t make my body move just yet. I steal more time. More moments not meant to be mine. I know I’ll never be with him like this again. The next time we come face to face, he’ll look at me like I’m nothing while I’ll stare at him with stars in my eyes. It’ll be demeaning. Embarrassing and nothing less than I deserve.
A shooting star streaks overhead. The fire’s nothing but glowing embers. The magic of the night won’t last much longer. I ease from his arms. He mutters in his sleep protesting. I take a rolled sleeping bag and stuff it in his arms. Deep in slumber, he grumbles but jerks it close. I shove into my jeans, press one last kiss to his lips and murmur my goodbyes.
The trip down is easy since I use the well-marked one, he’s used many times before. Halfway down I turn the flashlight on my cell on. When I finally land safely inside the cab of the truck, turning it over, I flip the visor down.
“What the fuck did you do, Amber?” My hair is wild, sexily tousled. My lips are plump, swollen from his kisses. My eyes are wide and full of knowing. A knowledge of what it feels like to taste the passion movies are made of. I don’t look like a mouse. I’m all woman full of stolen confidence. But I’ll take that. I’ll keep that. What happened here tonight, I’ll take to the grave with me. Mandy can kick my ghost-ass when it’s time for what I did. I flip the visor shut, charge my phone, and carefully drive off. Hopefully, he’ll be too hungover and confused to notice the tracks from the truck.
The smell of him clings to my skin. My eyes are on the road, but they don’t see anything but him. How he looked as he whispered the words locked in his heart. How his eyes gleamed with ownership as they worshipped my body… I wonder if maybe… somehow, someday he could love me? Love Amber instead of Mandy?
It’s a wish I make on a star as I roll down the highway. I slow, finding the dirt road with the broken for sale sign. It seems like days not hours ago, as I drive up to the little log house sheltered by trees.
It’s mine in less than forty-eight hours… I pick up a rock, smashing a pane of glass by the backdoor and turn the lock. I’m already a villain. What’s breaking and entering compared to the crime of stealing love?
Squinting in the dark, I find the master bath turn on the shower, relieved the water’s hot and use someone else’s soap to rinse away a touch I still feel.
9
Tarak
A smile curves my lips. I refuse to open my eyes, wanting to savor the moment before it shatters like glass. My mind is out of the fog, but the fog still clings to my brain, like a fine mist. I know reality is just beyond the see-through veil, but I want to stay here in the part of sleep that hovers a breath away between this reality and the next one.
The sun’s rays climb above the horizon, brushing my bare back with the first rays of heat. I want the magic of the night to never end. I pull her closer.
My eyes pop open. I’m holding the bedroll Indé never opened.
A thousand swords pierce my heart. The glass shatters. “None of it was real? But I felt you, baby. I know you were here.”
My mouth is as dry as the desert basin full of sand. Somehow, I rise and make it over to the cave. Grabbing a bottle of water, I chug half before lifting it high and dousing my face with it. My head pounds. I search my bag for the aspirin I brought and swallow three.
Something’s not adding up here. The blunt Indé made was potent as fuck. He probably messed up the recipe. I shut my eyes. I saw her. Touched her. Tasted her… I can still smell her on my skin.
Puzzled, I walk back over to the bedroll finding a long piece of brown hair. I wrap it around my ring finger. It could be Regan’s. But I need to cling to something before I lose my mind.
I can’t stay here much longer wondering. I just need to keep the gift of the memory from last night and go before the sun climbs higher and the headache I have increases tenfold.
I clean up the campsite and head back down the mountain stopping short at the bottom. Someone else was here. The tire tracks look like the one’s from her truck. They’re rare. I h
ad bought Mandy a custom set of tires meant for the beach. I was worried she’d skid on sand and had them installed. They’re wide and have a certain, unmistaken pattern to their grooves.
“You were here, baby. I knew it.” I don’t question the how’s of it. The Apache always believed in the mystical realm of life and so do I. I get on my bike, following the tracks until they stop at the asphalt road. I feel like I made love to my queen last night. I feel like a man again. No, a warrior. She gave something back to me last night, something I had been missing.
My swagger.
Making love to her always made me feel like a king. I always knew she was looking down, waiting for the time she could return to me. The harvest moon was on the night of our wedding date. I knew the distance of time and space would be close and I was right.
Everyone tells me to move on. But I don’t have to. Not when I know how to get her to come to me.
I pause, the powerful bike idling under me. Left, or right? I could catch up with the guys, but I feel like I went five rounds with Edge. My head pounds. My muscles are sore. Wincing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I need hot food, hotter coffee, and a cold shower. The drugs still lingering in my system are potent little fucks. Despite, my body feeling like I won a death match, my spirit is strong. I was with my girl last night and that will carry me for a while.
Pulling out, I turn left back toward Santa Fe. I’ll lose an hour or so, but I need to feel human again before I head back out on the long, open road.
I’ll freshen up, load up on food and let the memories of the night keep me moving forward for a while.
10
Amber
I’ve never felt so low and yet so high. I slept naked, wrapped in a sheet I found in the dark. I awaken in a home that’s almost mine but still belongs to somebody else. The irony isn’t lost on me. I have no choice but to put on my old clothes. I race out to the truck. I need to get to the apartment and burn this shirt, these jeans… If only doing that could purge what I’ve done.
Tarak stamped his name on my heart. His stolen love bit me. I race into the apartment, strip, and take another shower. I’m moving out of here today, putting everything in the truck. If Regan or any other Royal Bastard comes looking, they’ll think I’m gone.
I’ll avoid town and when I next cross paths with Tarak, hopefully I’ll manage to hide the truth from him. I need to be the mouse, not the queen he loved for one, stolen night.
My cell dings with a text:
Sunset came and went, mouse. I don’t like being ignored.
I won’t betray Tarak. No matter how much he hates me. I tap the phone against my leg. I won’t respond. Edge is all empty threats just like Tarak. What will they really do to me anyway? I saw Tarak’s soul. The part of him he never shows anyone. He’d never hurt me. His power as the head of his MC is just making people believe he will. Right?
I dress quickly, put my wet hair in a messy braid all the while ignoring my stomach begging for food.
It takes me thirty minutes to reload the truck. I only signed a month to month lease so fuck it.
I take one last look around making sure I didn’t leave any trace of me behind. If Regan comes back, she’ll report to Tarak I cleared out.
Tarak is gone so I make a quick food run into town. I stock up on water, soda, bagels and buy an instant coffee maker. I pack everything in the truck, deciding to walk the few blocks to the bakery for my daily fix of fresh-baked muffins and expensive brew.
“Baked blueberry with butter and a tall, dark Columbian with three sugars?”
I nod. “You remember me?”
“Of course. You order the same thing every time.”
“I’d like a tall, dark Columbian,” somebody behind me sneers. Shit. I know that voice. “We told you to go.”
I turn, coming face to face with that she-devil Regan.
“I’m going. After I get my Columbian.”
“You better, bitch.”
Ignoring her, I roll my eyes and scan my bank app to pay for my food. The girl behind the counter opens the small window in the plexi-shield to hand me my muffin.
“Thanks.” I smile warmly at her just as Regan snatches my warmed muffin from the worker’s gloved hands.
“Bitch! Give that back,” I scream, lunging at Regan. She holds the bag high above her head. Her teeth gleam white against her deep tan as she grins. My insides are shredded, I’m tired. Guilt laces through every emotion I have. I just want my damn muffin.
She teases me, waving it in the air knowing I can’t reach. I climb up on a chair then stand on top a table, launching myself at her. Her eyes widen seconds before she screams as my body slams into her and we both tumble to the ground.
“What the fuck?” He roars. The door to the café slams open. The bells attached jingling like a drunken Christmas carol.
His warm hand lands on my back his other grips the end of my braid, yanking my head up. The feel of his hand on me is familiar. I lean into his touch wanting more. His eyes. Those eyes that promised me forever hours earlier are filled with nothing but bitter contempt. I quickly look away, too shamed to meet them. His promises weren’t for me anyway. But my damn heart doesn’t want to hear that.
“She started it.”
For a split-second, I glimpse the Tarak I know he hides. His eyes flash with a glimpse of mirth but then it’s gone, and the freezing rain is back.
Regan pushes me off but Tarak keeps his grip on my braid. He yanks down, pushing my chin up.
“You are one dumb, girl.”
My cheeks heat. I am dumb because I know how he tastes; how hot the thick girth of his cock is and what his beard feels like between my thighs. I can’t even get angry at him for being a dick. Not after the part I played last night.
“I just want my food and coffee, okay? Then I’m out.”
He tugs my braid twice, leaning down. “You better. I’m done looking at this scrawny chicken-ass of yours, mouse. Tell Edge, I send my regards.”
“I’m not with him. I already told you this.”
“Oh yeah? Let me see your phone.”
My spine stiffens. He’s all in my phone. Sweaty, half-naked and lost in incantations all in an effort bring back his dead girl. Instead he got me.
“Look. I’m leaving, okay. I’ve already cleared out of Santa Fe, like you asked. Can you just let it go?”
His skin draws tight over the sculpted cheekbones I traced by hand. “He has no conscience. There’s no limit to how far he’ll go. Thinking you—of all people could get hooks into me.” He sneers, looks down his nose at me and I just break. Completely break at his feet.
Tears spring from my eyes. My body shakes. I run out of the bakery no longer wanting my food. Now that I know how sweet his words and touch can be, I want them back. And not as some stand-in. I want them only for me.
11
Tarak
The last thing I expected to witness when I went on a coffee run was that girl launching herself at my sister. She vaulted off that table like a Diva from Monday Night Raw. It was impressive. She even looked sexy for a split-second. If she weren’t Edge’s rat maybe I’d even like her.
But something about her spooks me. Makes me uneasy. The fragrance of her hair had me leaning in to sniff more.
She’s nothing like Mandy and yet they do have a slight resemblance. Mandy flaunted her body and always had her nails and makeup done. But this Amber girl, wears nothing but faint freckles and plain gloss.
“What the fuck was that, Regan?” I turn from my spot at the window where I was watching her flee.
“You were the one who made her cry, not me.”
“She was afraid of me. It was in her eyes. She never was before. What did you say to her to make her leave?”
“I didn’t say anything. I just kissed her.”
“What?” I bark in disbelief.
“Don’t tell a soul, Tarak. Mouse is hot. I don’t know what came over me or how it happened. I was in her apartment lounging on her bed, d
rinking her wine, leafing through the dirty parts of her diary—when she launched herself at me much like she did now. I don’t know… I saw the broken parts of her. The ones she fixed. She was fired up, it was hot… it just happened.”
“Are you—?”
“No. I don’t think she is either.”
I steal the bag of goodies from her hand, turn and swipe the girl’s coffee.
“Hey!” Regan protests.
“Fuck it. She left and I need it more than you do.” I open the bag, stuffing the buttery muffin into my mouth. I shut my eyes in bliss, washing the muffin down with a hot strong swig of coffee.
“She has good taste.”
“Of course, she does. She kissed me back.”
I almost choke on the muffin. “What? Was this like a full on make out scene?” I frown, faking horror. “I can’t picture my sister in a girl on girl scene. I feel sick.”
“No? How about picturing her with Edge?” Regan’s lips curl.
“I knew it.” I polish off the stolen muffin, throwing the empty bag in the trash. “Make sure she stays gone. I’m heading to Vegas. I’ll be back in a week or two…”
Regan takes the coffee from my hands and helps herself to a long swig. “Be back for the Quinceanera,” she warns.
“I’ll try. But I can’t make that promise. I gotta go. Be good.” I tweak her nose. I jerk the coffee back from her hands walking slow. The sun is bright as I use my elbow to open the door. The light feels like tiny needles pricking my brain.
“Ugh,” I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose then fish around my cut for my shades. My jumbled thoughts bleed into one another. Mandy. Mouse…the MC.