Fender: Soulless Kings MC

by Andi Rhodes

  For now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  What makes you think you're so much better than the Black Savages? What makes you think I don't want to be one of them?

  Charlie

  I lay awake staring at the ceiling. It's dark but it isn't anything like the room they kept me in before. There's a window to my left with a sheer curtain draped over it that lets some of the moonlight shine in, and it would allow me to make out Fender’s face if I turned his way, but I don't.

  The music coming from outside the room stopped hours ago, so I'm assuming everyone is asleep. Everyone except me.

  We’re staying at the clubhouse tonight, and I assume it’s because no one trusts me not to run from Fender’s cabin. I wouldn’t, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the security on the property or if I just don’t want to. I can’t seem to decide.

  Fender stirs in his sleep and rolls onto his side, wrapping his arm around me. I consider scooting away from him, but I'm already on the edge of the bed. Despite having explosive sex again tonight, letting him hold me feels too intimate, too much like the past.

  I lay there for another half hour or so before my full bladder catches my attention. Inching my way out from under Fender’s arm, I swing my legs off the bed and slowly stand, careful not to make too much noise.

  I tiptoe from the room and creek the door shut behind me, letting go of the knob when I hear the click. When I turn around, I’m met with darkness. I was right, everyone's asleep.

  I make my way down the hall and shut the door to the bathroom before flipping on the light. The last thing I want right now is to wake someone up and run into them waiting outside the door, so I hurry and grit my teeth at the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running.

  I finish up and pad down the hall back to the room, but a light in the bar area catches my eye. I pause in the entryway to the main room and squint my eyes at the bar. There's a single bulb on above it, and it casts a shadow on a man drinking from a glass. Bodies litter the floor, and a couple is sprawled, naked, on the couch. Apparently not everybody has a room in this house.

  The man turns towards me, and I suddenly remember that I don't want to be seen. It's too late so I don't move a muscle. I just stare back and wait to see if he'll say anything. He doesn't. He turns back to face the wall and downs more of the liquid in the glass. Liquid that appears all too tempting.

  My feet head in that direction before I can even think about it, like they have a mind of their own. When I get closer I see that the man is Joker, and that bit of info has me slowing down but not stopping completely.

  "Can't sleep?" I ask, sliding onto the bar stool beside him.

  "I must not be the only one." His words are light, but there's ice in his tone. Fender’s promise to me enters my mind, telling me I'll be free to go as soon as the others agree to let me. I have a feeling Joker won't be easy to convince.

  I lean over the bar and snatch a glass. Joker slides the bottle of scotch in front of me without me having to ask for it.

  "Thanks."

  He gives a tight nod and takes another sip of his drink. I pour my glass and follow suit, closing my eyes as the liquor burns on the way down.

  "You really know how to get into that guy’s head, don't you?"

  I scoff and roll my eyes, slamming the glass to the bar.

  "You disagree?"

  I turn to Joker and narrow my eyes. "It seems you're the one who’s good at getting into his head, otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, would I?"

  "If I had it my way you wouldn't be sitting on a barstool, having a drink next to me. You'd be in the Nightmare Room."

  I prepare to hurl a comeback his way, but the lack of disgust in his voice holds me up. He isn't looking at me like he hates me right now, he's looking at me like he's trying to figure me out. He's looking at me like he's fucking sad.

  "I didn't do it, Joker."

  He holds my stare for a long moment. Finally, he breaks it and turns back to the wall behind the bar before taking a long drink.

  I put more liquor back as well and set the glass on the bar top before climbing off the stool and turning to go back to the room. Before I can take the first step, Joker wraps a large hand around my arm and I snap back to face him.

  "Would you like to know what he told us all tonight about how we're supposed to treat you?"

  My jaw ticks, but I otherwise don't respond.

  "He told us we’re supposed to treat you as if you're his ol’ lady. As if you're one of us." He pauses a minute to let that sink in. "He's never claimed one of our girls as his own, yet now he's claiming you. He loves you. I don't know why he loves you, I don't know what the fuck kind of pussy you have to have for him to fall in love with the enemy, but make no mistake, Charlotte, you're not one of us. You're one of them. The second you prove that and that'll be the end of whatever this is."

  "What makes you think you're so much better than the Black Savages? What makes you think I don't want to be one of them?"

  Joker says nothing, and I take the opportunity to pull out of his hold and stomp toward the bedroom, not caring anymore if I wake anyone up.

  I step into the room and shut the door behind me and instantly note that the heavy breathing that filled the room earlier has ceased.

  "You get lost?"

  I carefully walk to my side of the bed and sit on the edge, resting my head in my hands. Fender’s weight shifts the mattress, and his arm wraps around my waist. He drags me toward him, and I hesitantly lift up my legs and crawl to lay down beside him.

  Now that my eyes have adjusted to the dark, I roam my gaze over the hard lines of his face, and I trail my fingertips over the ones by his eyes.

  Fender takes my hand and presses it firmly to his cheek before dragging it down his neck and over his chest. His heartbeat pounds beneath my palm, and I trace the outline of the figure eight on his pec.

  "What took you so long to come back to bed?" he asks.

  "I was talking to Joker."

  He tenses beneath my touch.

  "And what did you talk about?"

  "He said you told everyone they’re supposed to treat me like I'm your ol’ lady."

  I study him carefully to gauge his reaction. I consider telling him everything else Joker said but decide against it. It isn't like Fender doesn't know what Joker thinks, so I don’t see the point.

  He nods. "That's right. I already told you, Charlie, I'm not trying to make you my whore.”

  "You didn't tell me you were trying to make me your ol’ lady." My lips lift into a smirk, and I speak teasingly, but inside I melt a little bit.

  "Well I am now."

  My smirk falls, and I stare into cloudy gray eyes.

  Fender cups the back of my head and pulls me to him for a kiss. I close my eyes and relax into it, my lips softening against his.

  I breathe deeply through my nose and can smell a trace of oil that never seems to leave him, no matter how much hot water scalds him or how much soap he scrubs on the oil stains on his palms. The scent is always there.

  I slide my hand further down his chest, over his abs, and into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Fender’s teeth nip my lip as my fingertips graze over his tip, and I shove my hand further down and grip his cock. I squeeze and moan as he throbs in my hand.

  His mouth leaves me abruptly, and he yanks my shirt from over my head while I work to get my shorts off. When he shifts to climb on top of me, I press a hand to his chest to stop him. I push him back and shove his boxer briefs down before straddling him.

  "Fuck yes," he hisses when I slam myself down onto his cock.

  My walls scream from being sore and it doesn’t help that I don’t give myself time to adjust, but I bite my lip and bounce on top of Fender through the pain. I'm not sure I've ever admitted this, but the pain is part of what I like. Just a little to give the pleasure an edge.

  Fender’s hands squeeze my tits as I ride him, and I go until my core tightens and I'm breathing heavy.
>
  "Tell me you’re mine," I demand, just to see if he'll say it. Just to see if it's true. The walls I'm building so desperately to protect myself here are paper thin hearing him say he wants me to be his ol’ lady, but they haven't collapsed yet.

  I slow my pace to try and get him to answer, but my core burns and I have to stop myself from speeding up to chase my release. Fender chuckles and lifts suddenly, gripping my sides to flip our positions and throwing me to the bed. He climbs on top of me and lowers his mouth to my ear to growl, "You know that's not the way this works."

  I want to be disappointed, but my lips tug at the corners, and I’m turned on even more knowing he's as stubborn as I am.

  Fender fucks me hard, and it takes no time before I'm screaming into his shoulder blade and my walls are spasming.

  He stills and pants into my ear after he comes, and I listen to the sound like it's a lullaby, letting it pull me close to sleep.

  He rolls off of me and takes me in his arms, tugging my head to his chest.

  "You’re fucking mine, Charlie. Whether you want to admit it or not."

  My eyes flutter open for a minute and I'm staring straight at the infinity tattoo. I sigh against his chest before closing my eyes and pressing my lips against the ink.

  Maybe he's right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I don’t just need her to be mine, I need her to be ours.

  Fender

  “Your girl’s a screamer.”

  “Fuck you,” I joke, flipping Piston the bird.

  Piston’s chuckle seems to echo off the hallway walls as I make my way to the bathroom. I wanted to wake Charlie up, tempt her into the shower with me, but she looked so peaceful sleeping that I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  As hot water cascades down my body, I can’t help but think about the last four years. When my parents were killed, I was devastated, but in the back of my mind, I knew I had Charlie to help me through it. Then she left, and my soul left with her. Seems fitting, being a Soulless King, that I’d actually feel, well, soulless.

  When I hadn’t been able to track her down, anger replaced sadness and then morphed into betrayal and hatred. My brothers had planted the seeds, and I let them take root and grow. Charlie was a Black Savage and while there’d always been a part of me, deep down, that knew she wouldn’t set me up, I’d questioned it. So much so that I started to believe it and then I let it fuel me in a way that made me the man I am now.

  After I’m clean, I wrap the brown towel around my waist and head back to my bedroom. Charlie is still curled up on my bed, and my lungs seize at the sight. I didn’t think I’d ever have this again, have her again, yet here she is.

  She’s still a Black Savage.

  I shake off the thought and gently jiggle her shoulder to wake her up. Her eyes flutter open, and a sleepy smile tugs at her lips.

  “Mmm, what time is it?”

  “Time for your pretty ass to get out of my bed.”

  Charlie bolts upright and her eyes narrow.

  “You’re kicking me out? Even after what we—”

  “What? No, I’m not fucking kicking you out.”

  “But you said—”

  “All I said was you need to get out of bed.”

  I drop my towel and let it fall to the floor. Charlie’s green eyes widen and her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip. I force myself to turn away and shuffle through my dresser to find clothes to put on because if I don’t, we’re gonna end up fucking and then I’ll have to explain to my brother’s why I’m late for church.

  When I’m fully dressed, I return my attention to Charlie. She’s on her knees, on the edge of the bed. I stride toward her and grip the back of her head to pull her in for a kiss. Our tongues collide, and I let the instant calm wash over me, the calm that only she can induce.

  Charlie’s moans fill my mouth, and I swallow them down, almost as if to hold them inside because I know they’re going to have to last me at least a few hours. I grip her shoulders and urge her away from me. Her eyes are hooded and her cheeks are flushed. She’s so fucking beautiful that it’s difficult to tear my gaze away.

  “I’ve got church. Why don’t you grab a shower and get yourself ready for the day?”

  “I don’t have any extra clothes, Fender. And if you think I’m wearing some other chick’s shit, you’re dumber than you look.”

  She looks away, toward the wall, and I shake my head at her. She may be here and I may have staked my claim, but we’ve got a long way to go for there to be complete trust. I grab her chin and force her to look at me.

  “First of all, I’m offended that you’d think I’d treat you like some desperate Bangin’ Betty.” She tries to avert her eyes, so I bend my knees and lean in close. “Second, I may not have been celibate the last four years, but there hasn’t been anyone that’s stayed long enough to have clothes left behind. And third, your bags from your shopping trip are in the closet.” I tilt my head in that direction and let go of her chin.

  Charlie glances toward the closet before her head drops to her chest. Her shoulders rise with her deep breath, and when she returns her attention to me, she releases it and her shoulders sag.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  She scrambles off the bed and retrieves her purchases, throwing them across the mattress as if to take inventory of what she has. A particular shirt catches my eye, and I snatch it up to look at it. It’s a black tank top with a pair of white angel wings spread across the chest. In the center of the wings is an infinity symbol.

  “Wear this,” I say as I toss the shirt at her.

  Charlie glances at the tank. Indecision is written all over her expression, and I imagine she’s debating on whether to argue with me, based on principle, or wear the damn shirt. She can bristle all she wants, but she bought the shirt for a reason and that reasoning will win out.

  “What exactly are we doing today?”

  “Does it matter?” I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest.

  “I need to know what we’re doing so I know what to wear.”

  “I told you, that shirt.” I nod toward the fabric that’s now twisted in her hands. “Jeans and boots will be fine. Unless you’d rather go naked. Gotta say, I wouldn’t mind but I’m not really in the mood to kill anyone today, so I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  Charlie snorts with laughter, and I can’t help but smile at the sound. She always did have an incredible laugh. It’s one of those that come from deep within. It’s not delicate, but it’s real. I like real.

  We both stand there for a few more minutes, her trying to gain some control and me debating on cancelling church so I can stay with her. I can’t do that though. Too much to discuss. We’re down to less than twenty-four hours before we’re supposed to deliver her to the Black Savages. I’m not inclined to do that, but that means we’ll need to plan for the attack Leal promised would come if we don’t.

  “I should be done in an hour. Feel free to hang out with Margo if you’re done before me.”

  I don’t wait for a response before leaving Charlie to do her thing so I can do mine. Normally, I wouldn’t want to get Charlie mixed up with anyone in the club, but Margo won’t treat her bad. If anything, she’ll mother her. Besides, if she’s going to be mine, then my brothers need to get used to seeing her around. I don’t just need her to be mine, I need her to be ours. I need her to be part of the Soulless Kings’ family.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Piston blocks my exit after adjourning church. Despite the questioning stares from the others, I decided not to put Charlie’s surrender to a vote. I know I can’t stall it forever, but I’m not quite ready to give her up. Besides, the Soulless Kings don’t give in to the demands of the enemy. That means we need to prepare for an ambush, but we can handle it. After the last Black Savages attack, we’ve increased our membership and honed our skills. We’ve also gone up against them several times since then, and the Soulless Kings always come out on top.

  “You are
n’t? If they follow through with Leal’s threat, we can take the fuckers blindfolded and you know it.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Piston thrusts his meaty hand through his hair. “Are you sure Charlotte’s worth all of this? Worth risking all of our lives for?”

  I give the question some thought before answering. Not because I don’t know the answer but because the answer seems to be important to Piston. He’s not asking because of the club. If that were the case, he’d have brought it up during church. He’s asking as my friend, my brother.

  “P, she’s worth it. She’s everything.”

  I move past him and he falls into step beside me as we make our way toward the main room. It’s still fairly early, too early for the normal crowd, but all of the patched members, as well as some prospects, are milling around.

  I spot Charlie on a bar stool, talking to Margo. I stiffen when I see Trainwreck standing next to Charlie, with his hand on her shoulder. They’re laughing and white hot rage boils my blood. A ringing starts in my ears, and the rest of the room fades away. I stalk toward them and shake off Piston’s grip when he tries to stop me.

  “You’ve got two seconds to get your fucking hand off my woman,” I growl from behind Trainwreck.

  He drops his arm and spins around to face me. Margo’s face sobers and Charlie turns on her stool with her jaw dropped and her eyes wide.

  “Fender!” Charlie scolds. “What the he—”

  “If you want to be a Soulless King, you better learn the rules and learn ‘em quick.”

  My hands are shaking, my body heat surging. He’s lucky Charlie is sitting right here because that is the only thing stopping me from leveling him and kicking his ass to the curb.