by Bex Dane
"Wouldn't stop me," Taryn responds with bravado she shouldn't have.
"Mace is nice," Brooke replies.
"Nice?" Loralei sits up again and stares them down. "Mace is beyond nice. He's not only a drop-dead gorgeous hunky Hawaiian Jesus, he's incredibly considerate and selfless and brave."
Um, wow. We all stare at Loralei with shocked eyes. I have to laugh because that was exactly my first impression of Mace. I just couldn't put it in words like she did.
Loralei frowns and looks away after having said her piece.
Brooke and Taryn sit up straight at the sound of a tribal drum beat. They stare at the stage with anticipation shining in their eyes. Cutter is the first one to come out and I can't breathe as I take him in. He's wearing all black. Cotton pants and a wrap-around jacket that ties in the front at his hip. The only color on him is some red letters on the belt tied at his waist and an embroidered red symbol on his chest. Mace, Remy, and Blaine enter behind him. Single file. All wearing black pants, but most of them without the jackets. They're wearing black or white wife-beater tees. Then a girl, Marshawn, and two other girls. They line up in two rows in the boxing ring, which is serving as a stage.
The overall effect feels like a band of ninjas is facing off against an enemy and the forest fills with their energy. The fire light dances off the strong planes of their stern faces and tight bodies. I'm impressed.
Finally, Mila's kids, Maisey and Henry walk onto the stage wearing all white karate uniforms and cute white belts. They stand in the back like mini versions of the warriors in front of them.
Mace's call gets them started and they do something so tribal. So perfect. They're in unison. They grunt and scream and smack their palms on their elbows. They're fighting for something they all believe in. Darnit, I don't know what it is, but they definitely believe.
They finish the chant and move into a circle. Action music beats from the speakers and they start moving. Two by two they come to the center, there's whirling and kicks and kee-yahs and it's fantastic. It's a choreographed dance where no one is getting hurt. It's a display of strength.
My eyes are glued to Cutter. The intensity he gives out with every kick is totally hot. He's tall and strong. The music stops and Marshawn steps out to the center. He puts on a helmet and breast pad.
Foster steps up next to him and says to the crowd. "This is Marshawn's first public fight. He'll face us all and at the end, he'll get his purple belt. Marshawn is an integral part of this family. He's strong. He's capable. And we love him. We'll show him that now by kicking his ass."
Everyone laughs, except for Cutter and his siblings. They're all business.
Marshawn takes a fighting stance with his fists up. One by one the family members approach him and throw punches and hits. It looks hard, but he doesn't weaken or go down. He's sweating like crazy. After he battles with one of the older girls, he bends over with his hands on his knees to catch a breath. Oh no, is he going to throw up? He shakes it off to stand, and the two little warriors go at him at the same time. The crowd, which had been mostly silent and mesmerized, breaks into laughter as the little ones mimic the real fighting we all just witnessed.
The last one to go is Foster. He side kicks Marshawn's chest with such force, it knocks him to his ass. Marshawn looks up at him with his eyes wide and burning with shame. Foster glances around, takes a step to Marshawn, and offers him a hand up. They embrace and Foster whispers something in Marshawn's ear that causes him to crumble into the hug.
Mila hops up on the stage too and hugs Marshawn.
It turns into a group hug of sweaty fighters.
They break up and Foster speaks to the crowd using a microphone. He speaks with the deep, strong voice of a leader. "Marshawn didn't know this, but tonight he gets more than his purple belt in jiu-jitsu. Tonight it's official. He's my son. He's your brother. The papers are final. You are a Twist now and forever."
Everyone watching stands and cheers, including me. Oh my God, I'm crying. I'm crying hard because I'm happy for him. I don't know him, but I'm happy he has this.
Cutter grabs the microphone from Foster. "Marshawn, I'm gonna take something for you no one ever has."
"What's that?"
"Your back."
Marshawn looks down and shuffles his feet.
"You're a Twist brother now. I got your back. All the brothers and sisters do too. So don't worry no more. All right? Your life just got good."
Cutter gives him a fist bump then grips his palm between their chests before hugging him and patting him on the bicep.
Mila takes the microphone from Cutter. Her mouth turns down like she's going to ugly cry. "I love you, Marshawn. No matter what life throws our way. You're my son now, and I'm your mom. I love you to the bottom of my soul."
"Thank you. I'm so lucky." Marshawn does the same handshake with Mila and hugs her.
She pulls back and looks into his eyes. "Trust me, I'm the lucky one."
That's a slice to the heart for me. A mom who accepts you and loves you is something I'll never have.
When it's over, everyone exhales because the intense moment had us holding our breath.
"Drink a beer," Foster calls out. "Celebrate."
He drops the microphone and turns straight to Mila. He grabs her around the waist and slams her with a surprise kiss as he hauls her off the back of the stage. I guess he liked her outfit.
After hugging Marshawn again and leaving the stage, Cutter comes right to me. "Cass."
Taryn, Brooke, and Loralei have their eyes locked on him. I don't blame them. All sweaty and pumped up with his cerulean eyes glowing from the emotion of the ceremony, what woman could not look at him?
"You like that?" he asks me.
I feel special because he didn't ask any of the other girls if they liked it. Just me.
"Are you kidding? That was amazing. I'm so happy for Marshawn and for all of you to have a new brother."
He smiles like he's proud of himself. He should be. He obviously works hard training with these guys. He's the leader of the group under Foster, and they're sharp and fine. A good-looking rock-solid crew.
A loud roaring sound echoes up the hill and Cutter's gaze focuses on the light coming up the drive. "Shit. Stay here."
He marches over to the top of the driveway and his silhouette shines in the shadow of a group of motorcycle lights. He looks like one man facing down an army of bikes. My gosh. There's more than two dozen bikes.
I start to run closer but Mace stops me with a big arm around my waist. "Safer back here." He lifts me up onto a chair so I can see, but I don't want to stay here. I want to be there with Cutter!
Chapter 8 Outnumbered
One guy who seems to be the leader of the new bikers that arrived approaches Cutter. Foster falls in line right behind Cutter to his left. They're acting casual but tension soaks the air.
"What do you want, Jareth?" Cutter asks.
"Got some questions for you."
"You have questions, you can call or come alone. You don't need all your boys."
"Pepper here says you pulled a knife on her."
There's a blonde girl standing behind Jareth. She glares at Cutter and puts one hand on Jareth's shoulder.
"Not true," Cutter says.
"It is true and you know it." Pepper points a finger at Cutter.
I'm not sure who to believe because Cutter did pull a knife on me. We were making out. Did he do the same thing to her? If he did, why do I feel jealous?
"She's a pathological liar. She told me shit about you too, Jareth. I didn't take her word for it and come down to your place with all my boys. I blew it off."
"I blew you off and you threatened me with a knife," Pepper says. "That's not right."
"I blew you off when you came round for seconds. She's butt hurt I didn't want her again. This is bullshit, Jareth. You're just looking to start shit. Why the hell did you bring all these fools with you?"
There's some grumbles from the guys Jare
th brought. They do look like they came up just to pick a fight, but if Cutter really did pull a knife on Pepper, then I could understand why they'd be angry.
"I brought them because you can't go around doing shit like that. Who's it gonna be next? What if you did slice her throat?"
"I didn't hurt her. She fucking loved it."
"So you admit you did it?" Jareth crosses his arms over his chest. He's almost as big as Cutter.
"I didn't say that." Cutter holds his arms out away from his body and leans into Jareth.
Oh shit. This is escalating.
"Why don't you boys turn around and head home?" Foster says, trying to diffuse the tension, but I can see Cutter's shoulders are up. His jaw is set. He wants to fight too.
"We ain't fucking boys and I ain't taking direction from some has-been reality show winner. You and your fucking wife think you own this goddamn mountain. We all know she's a disgraced mafia princess."
Foster steps forward and pumps Jareth's chest with flat palms, forcing him to rock back. "You seriously picking a fight with me? Do you know who I am?"
"That TV show is so rigged. You didn't win."
Okay. Jareth is an asshole bringing up his wife and calling her names. I don't know about a TV show but I doubt Foster rigged anything.
"You know who we are," Cutter says. He's trying to hold back his fury, but Jareth really crossed the line bringing up Mila. "That's why you brought so many guys to back you up. You know you can't win against me or Foster. Any one of my siblings could kick your ass, even Marshawn, my purple belt."
By now, the whole family has come to stand behind Cutter and Foster. Oh boy. The Twists are way outnumbered. I don't know if any of the guys in the crowd would fight on their side or not, but Jareth has maybe thirty guys compared to the Twists, several of whom are either women or teens, so that leaves only a handful of full-grown men against thirty angry bikers looking for a fight.
Cutter is leaning forward, his face getting more furious with each second. He's intimidating as hell, and these guys are stupid to pick on his parents like this.
"Mila, take the kids inside," Foster says while staring at Jareth.
"Foster." Her voice is pleading. No one wants this fight because it's clearly going to be bloody and ruin the evening.
"Go."
She pulls Henry and Maisey by the hands. They don't want to go. They want to stay and fight, but Foster gives a look and Mila leans down to scold them in their ears. They allow her to tug them in the cabin.
Electricity sizzles in the air like before lightning strikes.
If Jareth would just back down, we could avoid so much pain and suffering.
"You know you're a loser if you gotta adopt homeless kids to make a family."
Oh that's it. What a freaking ass! If I wasn't so far back, I'd jump over there and clean his clock myself.
Foster miraculously holds his punch, but Cutter flames into motion. He knocks Jareth down and gets a few hits in before they're engulfed in a massive brawl.
My chair wobbles as I strain up on tiptoes to see.
I hear screaming and yelling and the sound of fists hitting faces and I hate it. I hate that they're fighting, but Jareth left Foster and Cutter no choice. There's no way they could let him talk about their family like that and let him walk away unharmed.
I can barely see what's happening in the chaos. I just want to see if Cutter is okay.
He stands up and my heart soars. He looks good! A little tussled but he's not bleeding as far as I can see.
Then two guys jump him from the back, and they're rolling on the ground. They bang into the row of chairs in front of me and the crowd backs up, leaving me standing in the middle of a bunch of chairs.
Before I can get my wits about me and climb down, Cutter and the two guys slam into my chair and I'm falling. My head hits something and my knee smashes into dirt.
I'm climbing to my feet when a big arm around my waist pulls me up and tosses me out of the way.
It's Cutter. Once I'm out of the way, he goes ballistic on the guys he was fighting with. He drills into them with an intensity that could kill them.
"Cutter!"
But he can't hear me. He's in some weird zone where he's going to pound the hell out of both of those guys.
I'm about to dive in and fight with him when a deafening blast echoes over the trees, and everyone stops to look up.
Mila is standing on the porch of the main cabin, and she's holding a shotgun, pointing it up at the sky after clearly just firing it. "Get the hell off this property right now," she screams. She's not taking any shit.
Everyone stares at her.
"I'm serious. Get!" She fires one more shot into the air then points the shotgun at the crowd. "Don't test me."
I have to admit she looks cool with her Debbie Harry makeup and her glam shirt with the ripped jeans. If I were one of Jareth's brawlers out there, I'd be running.
And they are. They're retreating back to the driveway. Foster and the others let them walk away. Mila keeps watch as they get on their bikes. But Cutter is marching toward me with a hell-bent determination on his face. He scoops me up and carries me with his hands under my ass.
He stomps away from the fight, charging up the hill to his cabin.
The cabin lights flicker on and he turns and smashes my back up against the door as it closes. Blood runs from his nose and dirt covers his face. He's a warrior in heat after a brutal battle.
As I slide down his rock hard body, I'm assaulted with the smell of sweat and dirt and blood. His eyes are wild as he smashes his mouth on mine and drives his tongue inside. I can barely breathe. My mind is reeling trying to absorb the quick turn of events.
He's so high, I can almost hear the adrenaline running through his veins. Mine too. The fight was crazy intense. When I couldn't see him, I was sure he'd been injured badly. From the way he's kissing me, he was worried I'd be hurt too. It's glorious. He's kissing me like I'm the center of his universe, and we need to kiss to prove we're alive.
It's like a dam has broken and he's letting it all out now. It's feral and honest and I love it. He's saying I'm important to him. I mean something to him. We barely know each other, but I can hear him screaming it with his tongue and his hips pressing his huge shaft up against my belly. His chest smashes against my boobs, and the fabric of the sweater dress crunches against my skin.
He grunts and his hips start to move in unison with his tongue and, oy vey, I'm gone. The heat, the smell, the energy under his rhythm holds me captive and bombards all my senses. The ankles of Mila's riding boots make clicking sounds as they hook together behind his back. He groans deep and long into my mouth when my knees squeeze his hips.
I'm wet for him and hungry and I can't take him in fast enough. I can't even move against him because he has me pinned. All I can do is moan into his mouth.
Somehow he's worked the sweater up and my core is exposed to him. The circles he's making with his hips get closer and closer till he's rubbing my clit with the base of his dick. His cotton pants smash up against the narrow silk of my thong. Without using his hands, his dick moves the fabric away until he's pushing the tip where it wants to go. The cotton prevents him from actually penetrating, but it's getting wetter and thinner and we could almost have sex like this.
The deep growl from his throat echoes down my neck like a mating call. He wants to fuck. He wants in there. God, me too.
I'd been so stunned my hands were hanging loose over his shoulders, but now they want to touch him. Last time, he stopped us when I touched the skin on his back so tonight I keep my hands on the outside and massage the wide expanse of his biceps that are caging me in.
I know I said I wouldn't sleep with anyone anymore, but if he tried it now, I wouldn't say no. I know it'd be stupid, but I'd risk it just to have him keep touching me, keep teasing my clit, make me come.
He finally sets my feet on the ground and his mouth moves to my neck. His dick is too high now to make contact so
it's pressing against my belly. I reach down and grab it. It's huge like I remember. I squeeze it hard and he groans against my neck.
"Cass," he says with desperation.
"I know." I feel desperate too. Desperate to get him naked and in bed so he can pierce me with that thing.
He picks me up by my ass again and carries me to the bedroom. With a whoosh, I land on my back with him on top of me. My thighs wrap around his hips and tug him closer.
He leans in to kiss me again and… Oh my God, this is going to happen. I should not do this. Do not do this, Cass.
Knock, knock, knock.
He ignores it and sticks his tongue in my mouth and we're off and running again.
"Cutter? You need medical attention?" It's a female voice. Sounds like it could be Mila.
"I'm fine," he grumbles and kisses me again.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Cutter? Foster needs help with check ins."
He drops his forehead to my neck and growls. "In a minute." Slowly he pulls away and looks me in the eye and oh my Lord, Cutter's eyes have turned a dark cobalt-blue and his face is tortured like he's in pain.
"I need to go check on everybody." He's breathing roughly as he wipes his mouth with his hand.
There's guilt and remorse in his tone. He regrets this? He's glad we were interrupted? He did this. Not me. I didn't pick him up and carry him in here and attack him.
He lifts himself off the bed and runs his hands through his hair. He walks to the bathroom and washes the blood off his face. I have no idea what just happened between us but his family is clearly in some kind of crisis, and I need to put my emotions aside to see if I can help.
"Want me to come with you?" I say as I use a towel to wipe some dirt and blood from my cheeks.
His eyebrows rise and he tilts his head. "What just went down is gonna trigger a lot of shit."
"I want to go with you. I care about them. We left them sort of um… abruptly." My face heats as the reality of what we did hits me. We ran off right after a fight and made out in his cabin. He left his family in chaos, and he just implied many of them may have issues with violence. Even when Mila came to check on him, he didn't answer at first. We acted selfishly. Our passion took over and I loved the honesty of it all, but now his family needs him out there. They need their leader to guide them through the aftermath.
