Beggar

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Beggar Page 9

by Shan R. K


  The girls were making an effort to be civil and the men were taking time explaining stuff to me. Zero was the only one who made me feel unwelcome. The only one who threatened my chance at a new start. It didn't do good things for my mind. So when he came in the training room on the top floor, I told him I didn't think it was a good idea he trained me and that I preferred Killer and Spade. I was more comfortable around them. He just gave me a tight lipped smile and proceeded with the lesson like I hadn't said shit.

  Most of the lesson I was surprised when he didn't touch me, and that made me feel better. But all good things had to blah blah. We were going over side and front punches when he barked at me to do push-ups.

  I didn't want to inform him that Spade told me that my arms were too skinny and I wouldn't be able to hold my body weight on it without a month of lifting weights. The guy seemed to hate the sight of me. It was obvious Zero didn't want to be stuck training me and I didn't know what else to do. I’d given him many outs. What more could I do.

  So I proceeded, and weren't surprised when I couldn't get back up. Zero chose that moment to put his hand under my torso to lift me. I thrashed and he snapped, yelling at me to stop but didn't move his hand. I tried hitting him, I tried turning but the asshole put his knee on my back and kept me on the ground.

  My body went into shock and my monster came creeping by. It was hours later I found myself in bed with a sleeping Killer next to me.

  Since the first night Killer and I had agreed to share the bed. We had a silent agreement of no touching and he didn't betray our non verbal agreement so I went back to sleep.

  This morning I woke up, went straight downstairs to put the coffee on and start cleaning the kitchen. Which is my assigned house chore for the week as we all have to do household chores, no matter your rank.

  “You live here, you eat here, you sleep here, then you damn as sure clean here.” That's how Rounder explained it to me. I wouldn’t mind if I had to clean the entire house by myself, I was just so glad I had a place to sleep and a meal to eat.

  I was on my hands and knees, using the scrubbing brush on the floor cleaning up the dried dough off the tiles. Brent Eldredge - Don't ya was blaring from the lounge area.

  I might've lived on the street of Washington but I knew music. I used to spend hours in the music shop a block from Lazer's just listening to tracks.

  The lady that works there didn't mind, she even gave me old food a few times. Pity I'm so far away now.

  The sound of someone's footsteps coming into the kitchen had me up from the floor to greet whoever it was. I grimaced at the sight before me and the words died in my mouth. Zero's green eyes glared from across the space.

  Cringing at the sight of his jaw that had a purple and blue bruise darkening by the minute as it swelled up on the right side of his face.

  He dropped his menacing stare and sauntered closer to the coffee pot trying to hide the tiny limp. It would've worked if I hadn't caught the grimace and soft groan.

  I knew who did that to him. Yeah, I knew exactly who because this morning Killer’s knuckles were red.

  I asked him what happened and he said something just kept falling into his fist. We both laughed but seeing the ‘something’ I felt bad, it was my fault. They shouldn't have been fighting because of me.

  That thought was what led me to here and now. It’s the sole reason how I found myself in Zero’s room.

  He’s laying down on his black duvet. I got an ice pack to his jaw and he just asked me to put ointment on his back.

  In the kitchen I apologized and expected something, well I wasn't sure what I expected, but the apology from him wasn't it.

  I softened at that. No one has ever apologized to me. So I offered to put ice on his bruises.

  Funny thing what a week with a group of bikers can teach you. Ice packs, heat rub and iceman was the norm of the day around here.

  I was waiting for the sharp no to come from Zero's mouth and had already gotten back on the ground to continue with the floors. Zero stunned me when his answer was “follow me.” And I did, right upstairs into his monstrosity of a room, with a mini fridge, sitting area and bathroom big enough for six.

  He got the ice pack from his freezer and handed it to me before he threw himself on his bed fit for a king and patted the space next to him.

  Now here we are, his expectant gaze letting me know he is serious. The Enforcer of The Satan Snipers wants me to put ointment on his back.

  “I... I...ah.” I swallow and clear my throat, “I don't think that's something I should, you should, ah.”

  “What? I should, you should? You not making any sense Beauty. I've helped you when you needed it, carrying a dead weight girl up thirty steps isn't easy and I said please.” The innocent curious expression riddling his face doesn't belong on him, it's not right, but does the trick when he uses that word.

  My eyes become saucers at that word and I squirm. This is my cue to leave this room.

  He can see the wheels in my head spinning no doubt. My eyes dart to the door more times than I’ll ever admit. I'm not chicken. I swear I'm not.

  The Enforcer finds my fright to flight funny. His body shakes the bed from silent laughter.

  Decision made I drop the icepack next to his pillow and stand up. I hate being a laughing stock. It's the one thing I haven't gotten immune to no matter how many times it's happened.

  “Don't you wanna know what's so funny?”

  “No I really don't. I’ll go call Falon.” I turn around toward the white door that’s looking more appealing by the second.

  “No.” His harsh voice barks through the walls it's so loud.

  I turn around and glare at him but my anger falls flat when I see him struggling to turn on his stomach.

  “I can do this, it's just ointment.” I say aloud, but it's for myself not him.

  Just ointment on his back and then I’m done. A MAN’S back. I close my eyes, I can do this.

  “Beauty come on.” That word again. Why is he using that word.

  I walk toward his bed, closer to him and stop, “Call me Beggar.”

  “No.”

  I turn my attention to him which was seconds ago on the plush grey carpet. Zero might be in pain, but I can see it in his hard eyes, that scar creasing under his left eye that he isn't going to call me Beggar. He's an asshole.

  I stand there not sure what to do.

  Sighing, he loses some of the harshness, “If you want me to call you something else tell me your name.”

  I tread the distance closer to him, nudging him so he lays on his stomach, “My name is Beggar. Who I was isn't important.”

  We both quieten as I lift his white tee up. The scars on his back are the first thing I notice. Seeing him like this feels too intimate, a shudder runs up my back.

  I lift the fabric higher, the beginnings of a tattoo starts to show. My fingers mistakenly graze a stab wound and he shivers at the touch.

  “You need to lift up.” I murmur clearing my throat.

  He hisses when he lifts his body up and I manage to get his tee all the way to his shoulders until his entire back is on display. He has multiple scars. Some from gunshots, some from knife fights, and others from whips. The tattoo covers most of them.

  My hands itch to touch his imperfections. They are the scars of his life, what shaped him into the man he is, the one he’ll become. It's all part of life.

  My mother always said that the choices we make determine who we become. I never made bright choices, but they were the choices I made, and I lived with them. I didn't come out on the top, but I keep breathing, keep putting one step in front of the other, because I'm a survivor.

  I, like Zero wear my scars on the outside and inside.

  It takes me a second but I see it. This man is a lot like me. A fighter.

  The thought makes me smile. I’ve never thought I’ll compare myself to someone, least of all a man. These feeling are foreign to me.

  The male population has a
lways been a means to an end. The worse of the bunch. I know that there are some men who are great, but I haven't had the luck to meet any.

  But luck granted me a reprieve from bad fortune the day I saved Falon’s life. These men of The Satan Snipers are not nice but they are kind. And maybe Zero doesn't like me, maybe he does secretly want me gone, but he is no monster.

  I focus on his marred flesh. I find it harder to inhale the air in the room as it thickens. Maybe it's getting hotter I'm not sure. I hope I'm not getting a cold.

  My attention is on Zero's many back muscles as they ripple and flex under my scrutiny. Could he feel my eyes on his skin.

  I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storm’s. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words Satan Snipers are written under the pistol. But what has me at a stand still is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable.

  It's wings, Angel wings.

  I don't say anything, I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.

  Killer did a number on him and I'm not sure how to feel about that.

  I mimic his earlier expression and sigh as I pick up the ointment off the night stand.

  I pour the cold gel straight on his back. He doesn't move a muscle when it drops in the centre of his indented spine.

  Taking a deep breath, I rub my hands together then place them on his hot skin. My hands glide to the side of his hardened flesh where the bruises are. Up and down I rub the wounded flesh.

  The smell of the menthol rub fills the air and I pour more gel and get bolder.

  My fingers start to go over his battle scars, because that's what they are.

  Zero is a soldier,

  a hero.

  His healed wounds are a myriad of memories, a reminder of what he endured for his country, for millions of people.

  My scars are for one, just one.

  My fingers dig in when I feel a knot on his lower spine. I close my hand into a tight fist then work his muscles with my knuckles losing myself in the process.

  My mother taught me how to massage. She was good at it, and insisted I learnt at least one thing from her.

  Time goes and my hands are red from over usage. It could be an hour or more I'm not sure. I'm just lost in the feel of his now heated skin under my fingers and knuckles and the human contact I've allowed myself.

  I don’t think of anything but my knuckles digging in this mans flesh..

  I should’ve payed more attention. The stiff posture of his shoulders, the heat coming from his skin. I should've understood the charge in the air but I didn't.

  My hands are on his back, I'm putting my all into this massage.

  His body spins so fast I have no time to react before I find myself under him.

  The bed barely bounces, then he’s looming over me, his one hand has my wrist in an unyielding grip. His eyes are filled with carnality.

  His nostrils flare like a raging bull and I gulp as my heart jackhammers inside my chest. My eyes like saucers. I'm a deer trapped under a starved beast. His thick thighs wedge in between my thin ones. Showing me his power over me.

  He wants me to understand it, to know without a doubt that when it comes to him I'm defenseless.

  He leaves me no second to protest or act out, he just bends down and his mouth is over mine.

  I've kissed three guys my whole life and that was when I was barely sixteen. And this is nothing like that. There's no hesitance or uncertainty that I wouldn't want it. No, Zero's tongue is demanding for entry.

  His lips are firm, hard and taste like beer. I open my mouth to, I don't know, but he takes that as an in, and then I'm lost in a haze.

  I kiss him back, my lips moving in-sync to his, a fast paced dance. We kissing, actually kissing I tell myself.

  It's angry and hard, his tongue is sucking on mine that it's so close to painful. Zero is not just kissing me he's consuming me, dominating me. I feel it right in the centre of my legs.

  His chest comes down firmly on my own,crushing me, but it's so fucking amazing that for the first time in years, I just don't care.

  My lips are stinging.

  Zero does something with his tongue that I feel right in my toes.

  Causing a throaty sound to rip from my torturous throat. It makes him more frenzy and he rotates his hips so his cock is grinding against my denim covered pussy, all the while he's tongue fucking my mouth.

  Because that's exactly what he’s doing. He is fucking my mouth,

  hard,

  like a man possessed. While his fingers are still serving as a restraint locked around my wrists.

  His other hand slides under my ass, lifting me up and pulling me harder into him, at the same time he rocks his hips against me. There is no space between us as his body encompasses mine.

  Emotions claw its way in me and I lose myself in him. I start mimicking his movements in the opposite direction. There's nothing sexy about this, there's nothing soft and sweet about this either.

  I'm not sure how long we kiss, I'm not sure how we doing it, or why I'm not freaking out.

  I'm just in this moment as he lights my body into a fast burning fire.

  His hand leaves my wrist and mine instantly fly to his ass, bringing him closer to me, squeezing his tight flesh as my legs lock around his hips, wanting more, something deeper.

  His free hand joins the one under my ass and I have no choice but to lift my hands and dig my fingers into his shoulders.

  He hisses in my mouth and his movements get faster and harder, our breathing and sound of our rough humping fills the menthol scented air. His right hand slips under my back.

  Zero's hands are huge and my nerves spike at the same time my core tightens when his fingers fan out to the full expand of my lower back before he lifts me partially off the bed.

  I arch closer to him, my lips burning from the kiss of death he’s still bestowing upon me. It's almost like he's afraid to let up, afraid to stop.

  Zero's fingers gather up my blue t-shirt, while the length of his hardness rubs against my wet covered pussy. The touch of his fingers against my naked skin is almost enough to blow my mind.

  His rough fingers dig into my flesh and makes their way to my stomach. It's like throwing me in the Northern river as the cold hard reality crashes into me in the seconds that tick on by.

  I stiffen as my memories fight for front seat, fight to steal this away, like it has stolen in the past. Burning iron assaults my nose.

  No, please, No.

  I stop the kiss and turn my head, my battle with my demons waging on me.

  But Zero is lost in the moment, he licks my neck, sucking on the pulsing vein. And it takes everything to let go of this moment without shattering this reprieve. The first humanly contact I had freely given since I fell prey to a beautiful monster.

  “I'm sorry, I..I..cant.” My voice breaks as I stammer for syllables. My breathing is labored as I try to push Zero off me.

  He freezes, his mouth glistening and partly red from my macerations. I watch and wait in silence. His green gaze takes in my face, which I'm sure is dead. That’s how I have to be. That's how I need to feel to survive my demons, my monster.

  I watch in silence as his own rough features glimmer with his inner emotions, realization, regret, disgust, disbelief, and finally coldness, a coldness I've come to understand this week for what it truly is. A coldness of a deadly killer, a coldness of a sniper.

  “Leave then. Run away, Get. The. Fuck. Out.” He grinds the words between his clenched teeth.

  I don't have to be asked again as I practically stumble off his bed. I'm not sure how, but I make it to the door.

  My hand on the knob.

  “I can’t believe I thought... I..you know what you nothing but a fucking beggar.” I swallow at his brutal words, but remain silent. Waiting for him to s
ay the rest, to plunge the knife he wishes to twist into my heart, my mind.

  “Don't go fucking up things for me and Falon.” He continues, yet I don't turn, I don't look at him, I won't give him that. “If I hear you said anything, being homeless would be the least of your problems.” His voice breaks on the end betraying his words.

  I still stiffen at his harsh warning, his threat but the hurt leaves me. He is right, I am just a beggar. We don't get heroes like Zero.

  “I understand.” I whisper enough for him to hear and leave his room.

  I'm not weak, I'm not strong either, I'm a survivor.

  I’ve lived through hunger for years until my body didn't crave a meal for two days.

  I've became resilient to embarrassment when I was left naked for weeks until a lady gave me her clothes from her packet with the tags on, only to see me a few days later and charge me for stealing.

  I survived a monster until a family showed me mercy and lifted me up from the pit I stayed in only to leave me on the side of the road naked, because they were too shit scared to help further.

  I survived a pregnancy at sixteen with no money in my pocket while running from a monster that was determined to find me. I'm still running because I’m a survivor.

  So with one foot in front of the other I walk through the corridor knowing that I will fucking survive the Enforcer of The Satan Snipers.

  Chapter 14

  Beggar

  “71..HIGHER,72...73...” Ever heard the saying you can take a horse to the water but you can't make it drink.

  Spade doesn't believe in that saying.

  I know because he told me over and over and over again.

  Whenever I'm tired, he pushes.

  When I can do no more, he forces.

  Spade believes I'm only a human and if he's there he can sure as fuck make me do it.

  “81, 82, keep those abs tight we ain't leaving until it's done, 83.” My stomach, neck, back, legs, arms and all the other places I don't know are throbbing, aching as I lift into another curl.

 

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