Fallen Rider (A Lost Saxons Novel Book 7)

by Jessica Ames

  “You’re giving me palpitations about what my future looks like,” Beth mutters.

  Chloe’s eyes follow her little brother. “I can’t complain really. Jesse’s a good kid, but he’s at that awkward age between teendom and becoming an adult. He wants more freedom, but given everything he’s been through, I’m having a hard time cutting the apron strings.” Chloe sighs. “Noah says I should just let Jesse find his own way, even if he makes mistakes, but I want to protect him from anything and everything.”

  “I think that’s normal, sweetie,” Sofia tells her. “Jesse’s a good kid, though. Whatever he does, he’ll turn out swell. You’ll see.”

  Chloe smiles, but it seems a little forced. “I hope so. He’s been through so much in the last few years. I want his life to be easy. Instead, I’ve dragged him into whatever this is.”

  “This,” Beth says, “is a blip. Things are not usually this crazy.”

  “Noah said that too.”

  “The stuff with the Reapers will get sorted,” I sign.

  Beth translates.

  Chloe looks me in the eye and says, “I hope so. I want to get back to normal life.”

  “Honey, we all want that,” Beth tells her.

  “I miss Noah.”

  “I know. I miss Logan, too.”

  I miss my brothers as well. Okay, Jem drives me crazy, Logan is overbearing to the point of irritation and Adam acts like he’s the older sibling, when I am over two and a half years older than him, but they’re family, and my anxiety for them leaves a hollow feeling in my gut.

  “I hope they’re all right.” Chloe worries at her bottom lip and my stomach sinks. I hope they’re all right too. I have three brothers and a host of men I’ve known for years—some since I was born—all on the firing line.

  Beth reaches out and takes Chloe’s hand. “They’ll all be fine. Believe that.”

  I wish I had her conviction, but it’s hard to believe something I doubt will happen. Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.

  I leave the common room a short while later and head towards the room I’m sharing with my mum and Sofia. I barely make it halfway up the corridor before a voice says, “Hey, Mackenzie.”

  I turn around and see Foz coming out of a room. I’ve met him plenty of times in the past, and he was at Beth and Logan’s wedding. He’s the Devils’ Road Captain—the same position my brother, Adam, holds. He’s also attractive as all hell, considering he’s named after a Muppet character. It’s the red mass of curls he has on his head that earned him that nickname—or so I was told in the past.

  He smiles as he runs a hand over his bearded chin, full dimples coming out. “What’re you doing out here on your own?”

  “I’m heading back to my room,” I tell him via text-to-speak. I’m having to rely on my phone more and more these days, because no one in the Devil’s Dogs knows BSL.

  Foz crosses his arms over his broad chest, flexing his pecs. “You settling in okay?”

  I nod.

  “If you need anything, just shout out, yeah? There’s always someone around to help. If you can’t find an old lady look for Pepper. She’s the unofficial leader of our club bunnies. She keeps those girls in check.”

  I wrinkle my nose. Don’t get me wrong, we have our share of women who hang around the club, aiming to get laid, but we don’t have club bunnies like the Devils do. I’m not sure how I feel about it either.

  “Don’t pull that face, cupcake. Those girls are well looked after. They do perfectly fine out of this deal. Better than most women in offices up and down the country for working less hours.”

  “I’m not judging, Foz,” I type in. “I don’t really care what people do in their own time.”

  He scratches at his beard.

  “Yeah, I reckon you probably don’t, but a lot of folk do.”

  “I take people as I find them.”

  His eyes sparkle. “I don’t doubt that. You seem like that kind of woman—”

  “Back off, fucknuts,” a voice growls from behind him, a voice I recognise immediately.

  My head snaps in its direction at the same time as Foz’s as a rather annoyed looking Dane moves towards us.

  Foz’s eyes move to Dane, who is glaring at me before sliding back to me.

  “Easy, brother. We’re just talking.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” He grabs Foz by the lapel of his kutte and shoves him away. “You don’t sniff around her, you understand me?”

  The anger rolling off Dane scares me a little and I’m not sure why he’s showing such animosity towards his club brother. Foz doesn’t seem fazed, though, as if this is something he’s used to from his VP. Maybe he is.

  His lips twitch as his eyes shift between us both.

  “Are you two together?”

  I don’t say anything, and neither does Dane for a moment.

  “Can you give us a second?” He frames it as a question, but he’s not really asking. His gaze also stays locked on me, which has me squirming under the scrutiny. Why is he looking at me like this? Like he’s just caught me cheating on him?

  “Yeah, sure.” He passes him and as he does, he says, “I hope you know what you’re doing, brother.”

  “I do,” Dane grinds out.

  Foz gives his club brother a look I’m not sure I can decipher before he takes off up the corridor.

  Dane waits for Foz to leave before he steps towards me. I want to move away, but I don’t. I won’t show him he has any effect on me, even though my heart is starting to race.

  “What’re you talking to that motormouthed fuck for?”

  “You don’t like Foz?” I type.

  He snorts. “Of course I like Foz.”

  I’m confused, so I ask, “But you don’t want me talking to him?”

  He moves closer and I suddenly feel warm. “I don’t want him flirting with you.” He stares at my mouth. “That’s my job.”

  My chest feels suddenly tight. “Your job?”

  His mouth is inches from mine and I can feel his warm breath against my face. I can hardly draw in air. If anyone steps into the corridor, they will see us together and ask questions, but he doesn’t seem to care about getting caught.

  I shake my head. We shouldn’t be doing this. If Foz’s reaction was anything to go by, he doesn’t think we should be doing this either.

  Dane moves his mouth to my ear and asks softly, “You want me to stop?”

  I wait for him to pull back, so I can shake my head again. I should stop this, we both should. We’re playing with fire and going to get burnt, but both of us want this.

  His fingers come to rest on my clavicle and my breath stutters in my chest.

  “Dane, do you want to—Oops,” a female voice blurts and when I turn my head, I see one of the club bunnies coming out of a door behind me. Lola, I think her name is. “I didn’t realise you were busy.”

  “Not now,” he tells her, and she opens her mouth to protest, but he reaffirms with a firm, “Go and find one of the lads.”

  She pouts a little in a way that makes me squirm, and I wonder if she’s been with Dane before. Jealousy flares through me, burning as it destroys my good mood. I don’t like how her eyes climb over every inch of him, but she does walk off as she was ordered. She gives us a backwards glance before continuing up the corridor.

  When Dane turns back to me, he sighs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I mouth.

  “Like you think I’ve had her six ways from Sunday.” I arch my brow and he sighs. “I’ve got a past, baby. I can’t help that, but my only focus right now is you.”

  That does alleviate some of my fears, my insecurities, although not by much.

  “Can I show you something?”

  At this statement, a million thoughts race through my mind at what he could possibly want to show me. My eyebrows come together.

  “It’s not rude, is it?”

  He throws his head back and laughs as the text-to-spe
ak rattles off.

  “No, it’s not.” He pauses. “Unless you want it to be.”

  My eyes roll.

  Although there is a part of me that would have no objection to seeing any part of his body. He really is a gorgeous man, all chiselled and built...

  He grins. “I didn’t think you were a prude, woman.”

  I shake my head, indicating I’m not.

  His hand comes out towards me, an offer to take it, and my heart starts to beat faster. I pause for a moment, but then I do reach for it. He feels warm and his skin is rough to my smooth. I swallow hard. Bugger me, what am I doing?

  “Come on, Kenz. You’ll like this.”

  I’m in huge trouble.

  Touching him feels right, so right I don’t ever want to let him go. I feel like I have a split personality. Part of me knows I can’t go there with him and is trying to avoid any intimacy. Another part of me is clamouring for a second alone with him, just so he can take me.

  He gives me a smile that nearly melts my underwear off me as he leads me back out of the building and around the side to a small patch of land with a couple of picnic benches scattered in the grass. The whole time we walk, my heart is pounding so hard, I can barely draw air fully before the next beat starts.

  What the heck is going on?

  All I’m aware of is him and me. All I can focus on is the heavy set of his shoulders, the image of the Devil’s Dogs insignia on his kutte staring back at me and the sound of my own laboured breaths.

  He doesn’t release my hand as we walk, his boots heavy on the concrete, my own shoes sounding lighter.

  As we move further from the building, and into the shadows, I should feel anxious at being alone with him, but I don’t. I just feel building anticipation at what might come.

  He stops at one of the picnic benches, which sits under a tree and signals for me to take a seat. There is lighting out here from a floodlight on the side of the building, but it’s faint this far out, so we’re sitting nearly in the dark.

  It’s also cold, the temperature having dropped significantly as the sun has completely disappeared. My light jacket is back in my room, so I’m only wearing a thin sweater.

  “You cold?”

  I shrug, but he sits down next to me, and without invitation pulls me against his side. I’m enveloped immediately in his heat and the smell of him, his familiar aftershave—a scent that I’m starting to associate with him.

  He’s warm and I don’t want to move away, but I also don’t want him to think this is acceptable, so reluctantly, I push at him.

  He doesn’t let me go, and he is strong. “Hush, woman. You’re freezing. We need to get you warm.”

  He says this as if it is the obvious answer to this problem.

  I type on my phone, “I was warm inside.” He rubs a hand up my arm and I forget why I’m mad at him. It feels nice. Too nice. “Why have you dragged me out here?”

  He doesn’t release me, but his head tips back to look at the star-filled sky.

  “I sit here a lot.”

  “Maybe next time we can sit here when it’s not below freezing.”

  “My dad died when I was a kid. He was a member of the Devils, so the club had this bench put in for his memory.”

  My stomach sinks. He brought me to a place that reminds him of his dead father and I’m being flippant. Hollow emptiness sits in my gut.

  “I’m sorry,” I type quickly.

  “Don’t be sorry. It was a long time ago.” He rubs circles on my arm. “It was a rival club. They took him out when he was in a bar in town—alone.”

  My heart breaks for him. His upbringing probably wasn’t that dissimilar to mine, considering I lost my own father young.

  He clears his throat, as if the memory pains him. I’m sure it does. “But that’s not why I brought you out here.”

  I try to sit up, but he keeps his grip on me for a moment before he lets me go, as if he’s scared to release me.

  “It’s okay to be upset about missing your father,” I type in.

  He gives me a wry smile. “Well, that’s why I need a distraction, little one. So I don’t miss him. Be my distraction?”

  He sounds a little desperate. How can I say no to that?

  I reclaim my spot next to him, leaning against him once more, and he resumes stroking my arm. “What was he like?”

  “My father?”

  I nod.

  “I’m a lot like him, or so I’ve been told. I don’t remember too much. I feel worse for my sisters. They were so small when he died. At least I have some memories of him. They’ve got nothing.”

  That hits me right in the chest. I grew up with nothing of my father either.

  “I lost my father too when I was young.”

  “I know. It must have been hard for your mum. At least mine just had the three of us. There’s what? Five of you?

  I nod, then type, “I had plenty of other good men in my life.”

  I don’t know why, but I grab his hand.

  He stares at our joined palms then raises his gaze to mine.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he says, and I frown, unsure why he’s apologising until his mouth comes scant inches from mine. He’s going to kiss me, and once again, I’m going to let him.

  “You tell me to stop and I will.”

  I don’t type anything in my phone. I don’t move. I just continue to meet his heated gaze.

  That is all the invitation he needs to proceed. His fingers thread through my hair and his hands come to rest at the nape of my neck, then his mouth descends. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s firm, hard and amazing. His mouth is warm and tastes of beer, and his tongue goes exploring. He’s not coy, even if I am. His hands are also not content to remain in my hair. They take a wander. He rubs my left breast through my tee, drawing an embarrassingly needy pant from me. Dane has magic hands.

  When he dips his fingers under my top and inside my bra to find my nipple, I’m a panting mess. I rub my thighs together to create friction to alleviate the tension growing down there, wishing his hands were also down there.

  He gently lays me back against the bench and parts my legs, one hand keeping me from rolling off.

  The moment he touches me, I’m done. My brain is no longer calling the shots, my body is and it doesn’t care about propriety because his other hand is cupping me before slipping under the waistband of my jeans to slide inside my underwear.

  Then he stops.

  What the…

  He groans. “Fuck.”

  I sit up, coming to my elbows as my face flames. I’m glad for the poorer light out here, hiding my reaction.

  Did I do something wrong?

  The man just got between my legs and cursed and I know there’s nothing wrong down there. He’s been down there before.

  He scrubs a hand over his face.

  “I want you, Kenz.”

  Clearly not. I shove my top down, covering my exposed stomach and try to free myself from under him, but the man is big, not to mention heavy, and he’s straddling my hips. I can’t move.

  He grabs my wrists, stopping my struggles. My stomach churns as I glare up at him.

  My breath rips out of me, and I watch as his face falls.

  “You’re looking at me like I’m the worst piece of shit right now. I don’t like it.”

  I hate seeing the hurt in his face, and I don’t know why.

  He lets me up and I scrabble to sit. Then I snag my phone from the grass where it fell.

  “What do you expect? You start to do things down there and then curse. What am I supposed to think, Dane?”

  To my astonishment, he laughs. “Fuck, yeah, that was probably kind of stupid.”

  I nod my agreement.

  “I want to continue this, baby,” he says, brushing my hair out of my face. It’s a little wild from him kissing me. I must look like a crazy woman, but his eyes are roving over me like I’m anything but. “I want to take my time with you, and I don’t want to get caught midway by
one of my club brothers—or worse, one of your club sisters.” He kisses the side of my head in a gesture that is so gentle, it makes my stomach dance. “Those women gossip.”

  “Then what do you propose?” I type in and let it play.

  “I have a room here. I’m hoping you want to go upstairs and continue what we started.”

  A room.

  In between my legs pulsates with need. I’m already slick down there, ready for him. He was working me up with just the few touches he gave me a moment ago. But there’s a difference between an unplanned fumble on a bench to a planned walk through the building to his room. This is more calculated. There’s no defence for this. It’s not a case of ‘it just happened’.

  But it doesn’t need to be more than what it is.

  Dane and I will never be more than this night—something I’ve told myself repeatedly, yet I always seem to end up in his bed.

  I nod slowly, and he grabs my hand, his fingers rough against mine and pulls me to my feet. I straighten my clothes, and he cups my breast when I’m done before he kisses me again.

  What am I doing?

  Chapter Eleven

  Dane leads me back into the building, his grip on me firm and reassuring. My heart is hammering so hard, I swear he must be able to feel my pulse through our combined touch.

  The heat is welcome as we step back inside and I didn’t realise how cold it was outside until my skin starts to prickle.

  We pass a couple of brothers as we move through the labyrinth of corridors, but Dane keeps moving without acknowledging them. I trail after him like a lost puppy, filled with anticipation of what’s to come.

  He leads me up the stairs, and then unlocks a door off the corridor. It’s dark inside and the music from the common room is a dull thump this far from the action. My heart is hammering beneath my ribs as he fumbles for the light. When he finally finds it, the space is illuminated, revealing what looks like a small budget hotel room. There’s a double bed, made up with a navy-blue duvet set, and a chest of drawers on one wall, two bedside tables, and an old two-seater sofa on the opposite wall. There’s a door that is open into what appears to be an en-suite bathroom—something we didn’t get in our room. It’s a surprisingly pleasant space.