Cruz : A Dark MC Romance (A Dark and Dirty Sinners’ MC Book 5)

by Serena Akeroyd

  She bit her lip. "And what if you leave me?"

  "Won't happen."

  "You sound so sure," she whispered.

  "I am. Monsters mate for life, dontcha know? Just like Giulia is stuck with Nyx, you're stuck with me."

  "Why do you compare yourself to him?"

  "Because we're birds of a feather, only his catalyst is justified. Mine isn't. I came from a normal household. You guys didn't." I heaved a sigh. "You'll never see what makes us so similar, because I'll never let you."

  "Should I be scared?"

  "Of me?" I thought about that, tried to reason whether she should be or not, then I murmured, "No. You could even betray the Sinners and I wouldn't hurt you. Spank you, sure. Hurt you? No."

  She tensed, and wriggled around in my hold to look at me. "Whoa."

  I shrugged. "I know."

  We were both aware how massive that was.

  "You know I'd never betray them though, don't you?"

  "You're not an idiot," I said wryly. "Just because I wouldn't hurt you, doesn't mean they wouldn't come baying for your blood, and while I'd do everything I could to keep you safe, they're wily fuckers."

  She winced. "True dat." She waggled the phone. "Do you see me like this?"

  "In my mind's eye?"

  "Yes."

  "Sure do. Nothing, and I repeat, nothing about you is pitiful, Indy."

  Though she swallowed, I felt like she got it, I felt like she was listening and processing and, even more importantly, accepting.

  I waited for her next question, but whatever she could have asked, it stunned me.

  "Are you going to brand me?"

  "Yes."

  “When?"

  "Don't know. When things calm down, probably." A thought occurred to me. "Can you tattoo yourself?"

  She snorted. "Do bears shit in the woods."

  I smoothed my good hand along her forearm, and murmured, "Here, I guess. It'll have to be." She nodded, prompting me to say, "I'll wear a brand too. But I want you on me. A pin up version of you."

  Her cheeks burned hotly. "With clothes or without?"

  Amused by the question, I dipped in closer, and breathed in her ear, "Which one makes you wetter?"

  She licked her lips. "Without."

  "Then without it is. It'll have to be somewhere no other fucker can see it though." My brow puckered as logistics hit me. "And somewhere I can cover up with clothes. Our kids don't need to see that."

  "Kids?" she squeaked, her eyes rounding at the prospect.

  I shrugged. "From you, adopted, fostered, don't care. Now, ten years’ time, four months’ time, don't care. Just figure it'll happen. It's in you, whether you see it or not."

  She gulped, and her pupils had morphed into pin pricks that told me she was thinking about shit she'd never allowed herself to think.

  "I-Is there damage? Did he..." Shit, I'd never thought about that before.

  "Not as far as I know," she whispered.

  I pressed my forehead to hers. "If I could kill him again, I would."

  She swallowed. "How would you do it?"

  "Tie him up and throw him into my custom blend."

  "Your custom blend?" she asked, confusion making her brow pucker.

  "Yeah. Chem major, remember? He’d be awake as it ate him alive." I nodded. "I think that's what he deserved."

  Her eyes turned round again, and she whispered, "I think I'd have liked that."

  Pressing a kiss to her lips, I murmured, "That's why you're perfect for me."

  Twenty-Two

  Indy

  His kiss acted as a kind of seal, like he was forcing the words into me, making me believe them like they were the gospel truth.

  We. Were. Perfect. Together.

  I shuddered into his kiss, shivering when his good hand moved to cup me where I needed him the most. His fingers speared between my legs, and then he was there. Those clever digits sliding between my folds, unerringly finding my clit.

  His movements were languid, slow, but there was an ease to them thanks to how wet I was.

  So many guys had tried to finger me and found me as dry as the fucking Sahara, but Cruz always did this to me.

  Always.

  I was sopping wet for him, always for him.

  Only for him.

  Even as I arched my back, a pleasured cry escaping my lips, I started to think if he was the miracle I'd always been waiting for.

  Someone who accepted all of me, who knew all my flaws and somehow seemed to think they weren't flaws. Were, instead, something to cherish.

  To love.

  I winced at the thought, then I burrowed my face into the duvet because, sweet fuck, what he could do with his hand was better than anything I’d ever experienced with most guys' cocks.

  Shrieking when he began to frig my clit, I arched my hips, tensing my thighs as I clung to him, and when my first orgasm walloped me right in the face, I froze against him, juddering and jittering with the released pressure as the ecstasy of coming, with a man who loved me warts and all, turbocharged everything.

  My entire being was shaky with the revelation, and I almost cried as the sweet torment of release drifted through my system like it was in a maze intent on seeking the way out. But the only way out was when he was inside me.

  I knew this was, after all, just the appetizer.

  Shivering when he thrust two fingers into me, I arched my back as he started to fuck me. He liked doing this, and I'd have been perplexed by it if he didn't always get me off. His fingers scissored inside me, thrusting hard and fast, rough with me when I needed it, hard when I needed him to ground me.

  As he rubbed down the front wall of my cunt, I cried out, so close to the prize as the delirium of what he gave me was the light at the end of the tunnel.

  And then he stopped.

  But not for long.

  His cock was there, no barrier between us, no boxers in the way as he tunneled between my ass cheeks and found my gate.

  As he slipped inside, I moaned, tilting my head down so I could bite the pillow.

  As he thrust into me, filling me so fucking perfectly, I wept with the sheer beauty of it.

  Just the friction of him inside me was enough to make me feel like I was at a Fourth of July fireworks display.

  He was so thick, so hot, filling me so full that I'd never known perfection like it.

  And that was before he bottomed out. Somehow, he seemed to get deeper than usual, and the darkness of an impending orgasm hovered over my eyes, blurring everything else as he started to thrust. Retreating almost entirely, only to thrust into me hard again, jerking me across the bed, even as he kept me clamped to him, holding me close, not letting me go.

  With anyone else, the hold, the restriction, would have been a trigger.

  But there was no one else in my mind. Nothing else. Just him.

  Just me.

  He held me tight because he needed me this tight.

  He didn't let me move because he needed me right where I was.

  And where I was was right where I needed to be too.

  When his fingers moved to my clit and he started to thrum it in time to his thrusts, I groaned long and low as the pleasure started to bombard me. Like bullets between the eyes, the ecstasy blacked everything else out as he sent me soaring high and fast.

  Taking me to a freedom that no other would ever be able to conjure, making me feel so fucking light that I knew I could soar and soar, higher than a bird, freer than one too.

  As my climax hit, I screamed, unable to do anything else as the intensity of what he urged me to experience blasted me into a million tiny pieces.

  Covering him in me, just as he covered me in him.

  And as his cum pelted my insides, coating me and filling me up, he rumbled, "I want you to think of this, every time you start to feel wretched, every time you feel scared, I want you to remember that with me, you can fly even when you're not tethered..."

  For a second, I didn't know what he meant,
couldn't understand it, and then, I realized we'd just had the most vanilla sex imaginable, and I'd still gotten off.

  Why that, of all the other things he'd told me and I’d told him today, had me bursting into tears, I'd never fucking know. But Cruz was there, his hard arms banded around me, holding me close, keeping me safe.

  Just like he always would.

  Twenty-Three

  Ghost

  I woke up to see Maverick staring at me.

  For a second, I just smiled, content that his eyes were on me and mine on his. Then, I registered where I was, and what was happening. The beeps, the scent of disinfectant, the uncomfortable chair beneath me, his injuries, it all registered.

  "Mav!" I cried, relief hitting me that he was awake at last.

  He blinked at me, his eyes not exactly hard, but there was definitely none of the softness I was used to from him.

  In the process of getting to my feet with the intent of climbing onto the bed and snuggling with him, I froze.

  There was no welcome on his face.

  None at all.

  The sight was jarring. I wasn't used to it. Maverick might be a hard man, might even be a killer, but he was gentle with me.

  Always.

  Just... not now.

  I licked my lips, nerves hitting me as I wondered what was going on, then, he rasped, "Who are you?"

  For a second, I couldn't understand his question. I was almost sure that I'd forgotten every single word of English I'd strived hard to learn over the years.

  But then, he repeated it again, and there was no denying it. No discounting it.

  "Who are you?"

  Who was I?

  Didn't he remember?

  I was his wife. He'd married me to keep me safe, but, we were so much more than that.

  Weren't we?

  Why couldn't he remember?

  "Where's Nic?"

  I blinked. "Who's Nic?"

  That, I could ask, it was just the other question I couldn't answer.

  "Nic," he snarled. "Where is he?" He jerked upright, then scowled down at his chest when he saw all the different wires and things that hooked him up to the machines that were beeping away at his side, monitoring him and making sure he was safe.

  He started pulling at them, and panic hit me because I knew I had to stop him, but Maverick, though he was in a wheelchair, was huge, so muscular that I didn't know how he did it. How he kept so strong, especially when he was so skinny. I knew he'd gained weight since I'd come along, which made it even less likely that I'd be able to stop him.

  I got to my feet though, not wanting to watch him hurt himself, but just as he snarled, "Where's Nic?" again, he did the damnedest thing.

  He shoved the blankets off his body, tore them away like they were chains binding him in place, and then he twisted around and he got off the bed.

  A scream escaped me, as certainty filled me that he'd end up on his ass, but he didn't.

  He stood there, and I just gaped at him.

  What the fuck was happening?

  Someone must have heard my scream, because I heard footsteps thudding outside the door. Just as a nurse came rushing in, so did a couple of his brothers.

  All of them froze. Each and every one of them stared at him like he was a madman, which he was.

  Which he had to be.

  What the hell was happening?

  Maverick was disabled. Had been ever since he'd been in an IED explosion overseas.

  What— Why—

  How?

  The questions pummeled my brain even as the nurse tried to get him back into bed.

  I was grateful the nurse was a guy because Maverick was rough, struggling against his hold, pushing at him when he tried to contain him, get him back into the bed, and then, finally, Steel rumbled, "Maverick? What the fuck is going on?"

  Mav froze, then twisted around. "Steel, where the fuck is Nic?"

  "Who's Nic?" Link asked, sotto voce, his confusion clear.

  "I don't know," Steel muttered.

  "Who's Nic?" I repeated, aiming the question at Maverick, wondering if he'd answer.

  He scowled at me, his jaw tensing as he ignored me to demand, "I need to speak with him."

  Link stepped forward, just as the nurse started to turn pink in the face from the exertion of keeping Mav contained.

  As he approached, Mav stopped struggling, and the nurse warned, "I'll be back with a doctor and a team. You need to keep him calm or they'll knock him out."

  Mav's eyes flared wide with that, and Link got there just in time to pin him down. Steel was there next, and both of them worked hard to stop his struggles.

  "We don't know who Nic is," Link ground out, when Mav just carried on asking the same damn question.

  Tears hit me, slipping down my cheeks as I saw this powerful man be contained by his friends. Men who were like brothers to him, who'd do whatever they could to keep him safe.

  Even from himself.

  That level of love was something I'd never come across until now. They weren't bound by blood, but they might as well have been. Or, maybe that was diminishing the level of connection they shared.

  They weren't blood, but acted as if they were, so didn't that mean their bond was a thousand times stronger?

  I liked to think so, especially because I was living among these men, kept safe in the cocoon of their protection.

  And I could say that even after their home, my home now, had been bombed.

  Even unto death, they'd protect us.

  I knew that.

  I just... well, I didn't know my place now.

  I had the nastiest feeling that Maverick didn't remember me.

  I bit my lip, and the sting grounded me even as nerves overtook everything else.

  Without Maverick, I...

  Well, we were a...

  What were we?

  In all honesty, I didn't know.

  We were man and wife, but we'd never consummated the relationship.

  We slept together, both of us managing to get some rest in each other's arms even though sleep wasn't the respite it was for most people.

  I made him eat, and he made me smile.

  We were a source of refuge for each other, or, that was what I'd thought.

  "We'll find out who Nic is," Link vowed, his face sweaty with exertion as both he and Steel worked hard to keep him on the bed.

  But his words were like a passcode that triggered Maverick's cessation of struggling.

  He stopped, just like they'd flicked a light switch.

  "Until then," Steel rumbled, "Ghost is here."

  Mav just stared up at him. "Who's Ghost?"

  Two words.

  I didn't know a heart could break with just the utterance of two simple words.

  Steel and Link shared a look, but it was Link, the kindest and gentlest of all the men, who looked at me, pity in his eyes, that I knew this heartbreak went deeper.

  I felt the cracks in my soul.

  What a time, I realized, to accept my feelings for Maverick.

  I loved him.

  And he couldn't even remember me.

  Cruz

  I'd dumped my shit at the motel, because I hadn't actually thought I'd manage to wear Indy down, so when I drove over there to grab the bags I hadn't even bothered unpacking from Walmart, and as I pulled into the lot, found Nyx and Link heading into the first room on the ground floor, my plans changed.

  Having heard about Maverick, I was curious. I knew all the brothers were.

  Not only was the guy able to walk, but he'd lost his memory and was pleading for someone called Nic.

  If I was closer to him, I'd have visited, because I couldn't imagine what he was going through, and he was a brother. Whether or not we were close, he was always that.

  The gravel drive sang under the weight of the truck I'd borrowed from our garage to get around, and as I parked, I peered at the MC’s newest property.

  The motel wasn't the best of places in town, but i
t would suit our purposes.

  Maybe, eventually, Rex would turn the place into a legitimate business, but for the moment, it was a place for the homeless brothers to crash their heads at the end of a long night.

  As expected, Storm had asked me to draft some plans for the clubhouse, and that was why I was here.

  To grab my shit, but also to discuss particulars.

  Any plans would need to be approved by someone who was licensed, but I was well aware that there'd be a set of drawings we knew about, and the ones that were signed off on.

  I was almost looking forward to drawing those up. It would be a hoot to have secret rooms within the walls, places where we could store shit without it ever coming under threat from the Feds.

  When I strolled over to the room Nyx and Link had headed into, I tapped on the door, the peeling paint coming away under the gentle force of my knuckles—hell, we’d bought a real prize, hadn’t we?

  "Who is it?" was hollered from inside.

  "It's Cruz."

  I heard some mutters, then a, "Come in."

  Church was in session, that much was clear. Rex might not be here, but all the other councilors were, which told me it was bad timing.

  "I can go," I told them, pointing with my thumb to the door.

  "No, we need to talk with you anyway," Storm rumbled.

  I blinked at him. "Sure."

  Closing the door behind me, I moved deeper into the room, wondering what the issue was.

  I mean, it wasn’t like we didn’t have plenty going on right now so I excused myself for my mind being a blur. I could be wrong, but I didn’t think from the scowl on Storm’s face that we were about to discuss the fucking weather. Or the construction job.

  “Take a seat,” Link ordered, kicking a chair out at the ramshackle table.

  The rooms were grody, and were probably fresh back in the eighties, but they were relatively clean. Without a blacklight.

  I didn’t even want to know what kind of nasty shit was going on beneath the surface. That was more than I could probably cope with knowing.