by K. S. Ellis
‘And who hurt you?’ I have to blink away a tear at that question, and I can hear a growl rumbling out of Aric like he’s a truck someone left idling.
‘I don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘They never said their names. There was just the two of them. One of them, the oily guy, he asked questions, and then the big guy hurt me when I didn’t answer.’ A tear spills over my cheek and Aric immediately reaches over with his spare hand, brushing it away with his fingers. The hand holding mine tightens and I can feel him kissing my fingers.
‘What sort of questions did they ask you?’ Holton continues my interrogation. At least this one is less pain filled, and it has Aric kissing my fingers.
‘Um,’ I swallow, trying to remember. ‘What time you arrived at the clubhouse each day. What time you usually left. How often you had Church. Who you and Aric usually rode with. Which groupies you both f-,’ I falter and swallow again. ‘Fucked,’ I finish quietly, and there’s a choking sound from near the door. Tammy-Lynn, I think. Holton ignores her outrage though, studying me with curiosity in his eyes.
‘And you didn’t tell them anything?’ he clarifies and I vehemently shake my head.
‘No,’ I hiss. ‘At first I thought maybe it was some kind of t-test,’ Aric’s definitely growling angrily at that. ‘But they kept hurting me and I realized that they weren’t doing it because you a-asked them to.’
‘So you didn’t tell them anything at all?’ Holton presses again and Aric speaks before I can.
‘She just fucking said she didn’t,’ he spits at his father, and I squeeze his hand comfortingly, because I don’t want him getting into any trouble.
‘I just told them that I didn’t know anything, because I was just there for Aric to f-fuck,’ I tell him truthfully. Now it’s Aric’s turn to make a choking sound of disbelief. He lets go of my hand, standing over my bed and glaring at his father.
‘You asked your fucking questions. Lena answered them. You can fuck right off now,’ he snaps and Holton’s eyes narrow on him before softening as they drop to me.
‘I’m glad you’re okay, Lena,’ he reiterates, before nodding and stalking out of the room. Tammy-Lynn ducks out after him, and Strafe is staring at the door they left through, pretending like he can’t see or hear us.
As soon as the door swings shut behind them, Aric slides into the bed again, his arms coming about me as he gently cradles me to his chest, before brushing a light kiss over my split lips.
‘I’m so fucking proud of you, angel,’ he whispers, and my heart clenches. ‘But I don’t want to you ever describe yourself like that again.’ I blink up at him in surprise. Describe myself like what? Aric must see the confusion in my eyes, because he leans down to press another gentle kiss against my lips. ‘I need you for so much more than just fucking,’ he murmurs against my lips. ‘I sleep like shit without you.’ I feel a warmth blooming through my chest at his sweet confession.
Chapter 23
LENA
Two weeks at the hospital feels like a lifetime. The first time I had to use the bathroom was hell. Aric kept trying to insist on helping me, which was so not happening, until finally Tammy-Lynn convinced him I would be more comfortable with her helping me. I haven't used the bathroom with another person standing in the room since I used to wear diapers, so that was an experience for the both of us.
Aric stays with me in my room as much as he can. He sleeps in the little hospital bed with me, which can't be comfortable for his large frame, but he hasn't grumbled once. Usually once a day Bruiser comes and Aric leaves the room with him, and sometimes doesn't come back for a few hours. Tammy-Lynn spends most of the time in the room with me, and Strafe never leaves. He's never there over night, but all day, every day, he's there; just sitting or standing in the corner of the room. I'm pretty sure he's supposed to be my bodyguard, especially because he doesn't even leave when Aric is there during the day, and Aric doesn't try to make him.
I wake up, and I'm pretty sure it's the middle of the night, since the room is dark, and there's no one here except me and Aric. He's curled around me, fast asleep, and I lay there for a while, not wanting to wake him. He looks younger when he sleeps, more peaceful, and I've found over the last two weeks that I enjoy watching him when he looks so innocent. I'm so ready to go home. I think that I'm close to being discharged, because my ribs are definitely healed, most of my bruising is completely gone, and they can't keep me here just because I have a broken arm. I'm pretty sure that Aric has paid them to let me stay longer than necessary, and I'm okay with that.
My eyes move back to Aric's face, and I see that he's awake, watching me. When my eyes meet his, he smiles softly, and I lean over and press a kiss to his lips. I feel the heat rushing through me, pooling between my thighs, and move to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away, smiling slightly. I almost groan in frustration. He's done nothing but treat me with kid gloves for the entire time that I've been here, and I am so over it.
We lay there, him stroking my hair gently, and me listening to the steady beat of his heart underneath my ear, and I want to pout like a child. Maybe if I bug him enough with questions he doesn't want to answer, he will kiss me properly, just to shut me up.
'Aric?' I ask softly, as his fingers keep running through the strands of my hair.
'Yes, angel?' he murmurs, and I bite back a smile. I love my new nickname. I wonder if he will call me that when he finally fucks me. He's waiting for me to talk, I realize. Oh right, the plan. Focus Lena; stop getting sidetracked by thinking about sex.
'How come you joined the Wild Hawks?' His fingers still in my hair, and I think that he's not even going to answer my very first question, before he sighs, and starts stroking again.
'When I was younger, my Dad was the club's sergeant-at-arms,' he pauses and his eyes flicker to my face. Yeah, he can see that doesn't mean anything to me. I never did get around to Googling motorcycle clubs. 'Like Killer is now,' he clarifies with a small, indulgent smile, before continuing his story.
'Because he and Mom were always at the clubhouse, I used to hang around there too. As you can probably imagine, a seven-year-old kid, with bikers and groupies coming and going, I didn't exactly get a lot of my homework done, sitting at the bar.' I smile at the thought of a little, dark haired Aric, probably looking just as serious as he always does these days, sitting at the clubhouse bar, trying to do reading comprehension exercises while all that debauchery swirls around him.
'I was nine when Dad made Prez, and Mom had Nan the same year.' There's a hint of regret in his tone, and I remember Tammy-Lynn mentioning that Hannah had called Bruiser, not Aric, when I was taken. I wonder what happened to tear that family apart. I wonder if I'll ever find out.
'It's one thing to be the kid of the sergeant-at-arms; it's completely fucking another to be the kid of the President of the mother chapter. Suddenly every-fucking-one had time for me. I wanted to show them some cool rock I found, well wasn't that the most fucking interesting thing they had ever seen.' He sighs, his fingers still toying with my hair, and when I glance up at him, I can see that he's watching his fingers as they move through the honey colored strands.
'I had a friend in middle school,' holy fucking pivot, okay? 'Sweet kid, name was Alex,' he nods once, to himself, before continuing. 'His Dad was a lawyer, so they had a fancy house, and I used to hang out at their place, messing around in their pool with Alex. It was the first time in my fucking life that I got to see how other people lived. People that weren't tied up in the club life. It seemed pretty fucking nice, actually,' he sighs. 'His Mom used to make us PB&J sandwiches, and bring them to us in the den where we did our homework. My grades got really fucking good that year,' he snickers softly, like he can't believe that there was ever a point that he did well in school.
'I started to think that maybe, when I finished school, I might do something other than prospect for the club. Never occurred to me before that point that it might even be an option. But when we got to high school, everything changed. Alex's D
ad got arrested, fraud or some shit, and he and his Mom moved to Seattle, where she had family. She didn't want to hang around here, where everyone knew their dirty little secret,' he sighs again.
'That's when I realized that club life was probably going to be it for me. I didn't want to be someone who could make one fucking mistake and lose everything. I still wasn't sure, but I went back to hanging around the club and my grades tanked, almost like I was trying to make sure I didn't have any other options.' He pauses, like he's trying to decide whether to tell me what happened next. Finally, he starts to speak again.
'When I was eighteen, Dad got them to vote to prospect me for the club. I think he could see that I had one foot in, and one foot at the bus stop out of town. First thing they ordered me to do once I'd prospected was to kill someone.' I can hear my sharp intake of breath, and he freezes. I force my breathing to even out again, and after a beat, he keeps talking, like I never reacted.
'I fucking did it. You don't say no to the club. So, I fucking did it. That was it. I knew then that I was all in, and there was never going to be a fucking fancy house with a pool and dinner parties in my future. Even if I wanted to change my mind, there was no fucking way the club would have ever let me walk away. I knew where the bodies were fucking buried now, literally, so they could never let me go.' He pauses again and then tilts my head up with his fingers, and I can see his eyes are shining, like he's about to cry and my heart aches for him. When he speaks again, his voice is husky.
'I'm so fucking sorry, Lena,' he whispers.
'It's okay,' I whisper back, 'I came into this knowing that you weren't squeaky clean,' I try for a wry smile, I think a wobbly one comes out. But he doesn't smile back; he just looks at me sadly.
'No,' he shakes his head slightly. 'I'm sorry because you can't leave now either.' I stare at him. It had never crossed my mind that I would voluntarily leave. I figured I'd be sent home when he was done with me, but to be honest, I hadn't really thought much about that possibility ever since he let me redecorate his darn room.
'They'd never let you go,' he murmurs softly, 'you know too fucking much.' Then he laughs, but it's a hollow, empty sound. 'I'd never let you go anyway. I fucking love you, Lena. I know that it's not a good reason, and I know that it's not enough to make up for everything, but I do. I love you.' A warm feeling spreads through me, making me feel fuzzy, and I smile into his chest. He lifts my head again and kisses me gently, and then whispers to me.
'You should be sleeping.'
Chapter 24
ARIC
Lena is staring out the window of the truck, her hands folded in her lap, the bright blue of her cast contrasting with the white dress she's wearing. Mom brought it from our room. It's nice. It's very fucking Lena. Down to her knees, white with big black dots all over it. A brown belt at her waist and loose sleeves almost down to her elbows. Her hair is combed and pinned off her face and, apart from the cast, she looks like she's about to chair a fancy women's club meeting at a country club.
I told her I loved her last night, and then kissed her. I didn't want to give her the opportunity to say it back. Even if she does love me, I don't fucking deserve to hear it. I've ruined her entire fucking life. She got fucking beat to hell, because of me. She won't ever be able to go back to her old life, because of me. And my only fucking apology is that I love her? She should fucking hate me.
Every fucking day while she was in that hospital, I left her there with Strafe and my Mom, hating every second I was away from her, while Bruiser and I worked our way through the fucking traitorous cunts that Killer brought in, one by fucking one. Bruiser's grandmother left him a small house just outside San Remo, and he's turned it into a fucking torture chamber. Normally just being in that house gives me the heebie jeebies, but this time it's different. It's fucking personal. It's for Lena. Hell, he even let me have a fucking go at them. I can see how he got so fucked up. There's something beautiful about the way those hard men break like fucking china under your blade.
Lena wasn't able to tell us too much about her time in that fucking cellar. Just the memory of her having to relive it is fucking painful, and I can feel my teeth grit together, and fight against clenching my fist. She only saw two men the entire time. She called them Big, and Oily since they never used names in front of her. Big was clearly Caster fucking Raines, who was there the day we found her and got Bruiser's bullet in his leg, and Bruiser's fists in his face. He's the main enforcer for the Phoenix, AZ chapter, so if there was any fucking doubt that this was an insurgency, that fucking cleared it right up. From the way she described him, Oily sounds like it was fucking Fenton himself. He never touched her, just asked questions while he ordered Raines to fuck her up. Christ, she should fucking despise me.
She smiles over at me though, as we pull up outside the clubhouse and I help her out of the truck. Lena seems surprised when we walk back into the clubhouse and the majority of the club is there, waiting for her.
'Missed those fucking dresses of yours, girly,' Fangs tells her gruffly, and I'm pretty sure the grizzly old timer is trying not to cry. If there is one thing that will get you accepted by an MC quicker that snow melts in hell, it's taking a fucking beating for the club and keeping your mouth shut through it.
Because she seems a little overwhelmed by the attention, we bypass the drinks waiting for us at the bar, and I take her upstairs to our room. From where my hand is resting on the small of her back, I can feel her relax once we're standing in our fucking purple, girly room, with the door shut behind us, locking the world out. Turning to me, she smiles and reaches shyly for my hand. I take it and she draws me over to the bed, pushing me down so that I'm sitting on the edge, facing her. Then she leans over and brushes her lips against mine. My hands come up to cup her ass immediately, and I groan as she deepens the kiss.
Her tongue lightly traces my lip, before she pulls away.
'Wait here,' she tells me, licking her lips and her hand brushes my cock through my jeans. Yeah, she doesn't need to convince him to get hard; he's been fucking half cocked for weeks. It was fucking torture to be in that tiny hospital bed with her, her warm body pressed the length of mine, and not to fucking touch her. The doc said that she needed to heal though, and I've had enough damage done to my ribs to know that they fucking hurt like a bitch when you breathe. No way I was going to get my rocks off while causing her fucking pain.
She disappears into the bathroom, closing the door lightly behind her, and I hear water start running. Still, she asked me to wait, so I sit on the edge of the bed like a fucking dog waiting for a treat. My cock strains against my zipper as I wonder if she's going to have more fucking sexy lacy nighties and shit for me. The door stays resolutely shut though, and I'm starting to wonder if everything is fucking okay in there when I hear the water shut off, and then, less than a minute later, she calls out for me to come into the bathroom. I'm off the bed like a fucking shot and over through the door, hoping that everything is okay.
The thought fucking evaporates out of my brain when I get into the bathroom though, along with all other fucking rational thought. She's naked in the fucking bathtub for me. Her eyes meet mine and she smirks, and as I run my eyes down her immersed body, licking my lips, she fucking spreads her legs as my eyes reach her pussy, and I swallow. Hard. My fucking zipper is now causing me actual fucking pain as my cock fights to be fucking free. Lena licks her lips as her eyes catch mine, and she lifts her hands and beckons me with one finger. Pretty sure I've never fucking stripped so quickly in my entire fucking life.
I sink into the gloriously warm water, facing her, and she moves towards me, causing ripples of water to break across my chest and she pauses, distracted, her eyes zeroing in on my chest. She reaches up and her fingers trace my newest tattoo, the one I got the day we fucking found her. I know why it distracted her. Every tattoo I have is black or grey, except this one. This one is blood red, a side view of a fucking magnolia blossom with what looks like blood spurts around it, like it's a fuc
king living organ that's been ripped out of my body and left on my chest. And it's right above my heart.
'A magnolia?' she asks, her eyes glued to it.
'State flower of Louisiana,' I growl, and I see her eyes fill with tears before she blinks them away quickly.
'For me?' she asks softly, her fingers curling against the new artwork.
'Yes,' I whisper, 'right above my heart, since you fucking own it.' Her eyes fly up to meet my gaze and then her lips crash against mine, as though she's pouring her entire fucking soul into the kiss. She moves to her knees, and I can feel her positioning herself above my cock. As she moves her opening against the tip of my cock, she pulls her head away, and her eyes burn into mine.
'I love you, Aric,' she whispers, and then she presses down, fucking impaling herself on my cock. A guttural groan tears itself from my throat, and I crush her to me again, my lips devouring hers. She eventually starts to move, and soon we're both slick with sweat and soapy water, and she throws her head back and moans, long and loud, as her pussy contracts around my cock and she comes. Fucking finally, I growl and come quickly. It took every ounce of fucking strength I had to hold on until she had finished.
Chapter 25
LENA
They are throwing a party in honor of me being discharged from hospital, apparently. Aric smiles as his eyes rake over my body. I haven't had a chance to wear this dress yet, since it really is a party dress. Like almost all my other things, it's modest. It comes down past my knees, proper tea length, and it's a white dress with a pink and purple floral pattern, a nipped waist and short cropped sleeves, with a rounded neckline that sits right on the base of my throat. My look is completed with my white kitten heels that I wore on my first day here, which are round toe Mary Janes.
Aric comes up behind me as I stand in front of the mirrored door of the built-in wardrobe, fixing tiny pearl earrings to my ears, showcased by my carefully pinned Pollyanna hairdo, with billowing waves. I can see him smirking as he takes in my outfit. If I just had white lace gloves I'd look like a Southern debutant taking tea before my cotillion. His arms snake around my middle and he stoops to rest his chin on my shoulder, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
