by Brook Wilder
We laugh, sinking into conversation. This is the most that James has spoken and I love it, honestly. Hearing him mingle, and seeing that the weight I’m so used to hearing in his voice is no longer there, makes me happy.
I’m… happy. I didn’t expect that.
When the burgers are done, James pats my knee and stands.
“I’m gonna get seconds. You want some?”
“Yeah, I’ll come with you.” I turn, waving to the three women. “It was nice meeting you all.”
“Don’t be a stranger!” Melody calls.
James laughs. “I see you met Melody and her girls. They’re good people; if there’s anyone you should make friends with, it’s them.”
“I like them. They’re nice. Most of the time, girls don’t make friends with each other—at least not like that—in the Vipers.”
“You look after yourself, huh?” James guesses.
“Most of the time. I tried to look out after the girls that worked the Snake Pit. But now…”
I frown. I’m not there anymore to look after the girls and try to make sure that the men don’t step too far out of line anymore. I hope that they’re not going through too much.
“You made sure they were okay, didn’t you?”
“I tried,” I say. “It’s not easy… and usually it was never reciprocated, but I never minded. It’s hard for women working like that to think outside of themselves. It’s about surviving, getting by. Sometimes it’s the only thing you can hope for.”
“Hm…”
James loads up our plates in silence. He has this furrow to his brow and I wonder what he’s thinking. Whatever it is, he’s thinking it, hard.
“James?”
“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “Was just wondering what it would take to get the Viper girls out from the Snake Pit and maybe over here or somewhere else they want to be, if it’s possible. But things are already so tense between us that trying to do something like that would be… tricky.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Wait… you would actually… think about it, though?”
James tilts his head. “Well, it’s not very smart, but yeah, I would. If you wanted.”
I’m not sure what to say. That’s something huge to consider, let alone offer. The fact that he would offer it at all gives me butterflies in my stomach, fluttering around without restraint, as he turns to me with a smile.
“Hey. Don’t worry about it too much for now, okay? I’m taking care of you. I’ll keep doing it.”
His reasoning is surprisingly comforting to me. I am about to tell him so, when someone comes running up to him.
“Yo, James, we got a problem.” The look on the man’s face is distressed. James is instantly on alert, attention turned to him.
“What’s up?”
“Eric was on his way here and said that he saw a huge group of Vipers coming along this way. Too many for it to be something innocent.”
“Shit.” James looks down to me. “How far out are they?”
“Few minutes, tops?”
“Fuck.”
‘Fuck’ is right. What are the Vipers doing, riding out here? Is it Marc? Is he coming for me? I feel myself grow cold and know I’ve paled out. Panic grips me in my gut and I want to be anywhere but here.
“Get the women and the kids inside,” James instructs. “No one’s to leave; we don’t know if they have patrols out trying to pick up stragglers. I don’t want anyone hurt that doesn’t need to be.”
“And everyone else?”
“We get ready for them.”
The man nods and starts rounding up people. Several other Grizzlies are already going to their loved ones, telling them what is going on and that they need to get into the house. The relaxed, happy atmosphere is suddenly tense. Children cry out, sensing their parents becoming distressed; women adopt hardened looks, not willing to show weakness in the face of something bad.
James turns to me.
“Go on inside,” he instructs. “I don’t want anything happening to you.”
“Are you gonna be okay, James?”
“Yeah. I will. Don’t worry about me.”
What he does next shocks me. He presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Go inside,” he urges. “I don’t want you hurt.”
I see it on his face as plain as day—there’s a real fear there hidden behind the usual confidence of his eyes. He’s worried for me, worried for what the Vipers might do to me for being here. I can’t tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about me. Whatever Marc sent them here to do, it’s not going to be harming me, I know that for certain.
I can’t tell him, though. I can’t ease his fears. The only thing that I can do is ponder the fact that James – for whatever this arrangement is – cares about whether I’m hurt.
I lean up and, before I do as he asks me, I kiss him. It’s quick but hot, searing with a passion that I didn’t know I could muster, not like this anyway. He looks dumbfounded when I pull away, but smiles as he goes back to ushering people inside.
I join the crowd of women and children moving into the house. Santiago’s family home is huge, big enough to fit everyone. There’s a surprising amount of space. Still, packed in here with worried faces and children crying because they don’t know what’s going on, it’s hard to feel secure. My stomach roils and twists in little anxious knots as we wait. Speculate.
What do the Vipers want?
The rumbling comes a few minutes later. It’s off in the distance until it’s not, the rumbling loud and chaotic. Based on it, there’s a ton of bikes outside—maybe half the entire Vipers’ club. I hold my breath and so does everyone else.
We can’t hear what’s going on out there, until the shouting starts. I can’t make out what exactly’s being said, but I know it can’t be anything good. My heart drops. Will James be okay? What if he gets hurt? What if this ends up being my fault?
There’s a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball. As I try to swallow it down, I get a text.
It’s from Marc.
Marc: Missing you; hope you like the show.
My heart drops just a little more.
Chapter Sixteen
James
They start as soon as they roll up. Hopping from their bikes with brass knuckles shining and their eyes glinting like they are out for blood. I don’t know what the fuck they think they’re doing here, but it’s obvious that it’s no good.
I try to reason.
“This is a family event,” I say, walking towards the ring leader of this little gathering. “Leave. Before it gets ugly.”
He just grins at me. Fat ugly bastard he is; his teeth are crooked and he smells like cheap liquor.
“I don’t think so, fucker,” he says. “Consider this a party favor.”
He cocks his fist back and all hell breaks loose.
I have my boys left and right, rushing these guys, as I go toe-to-toe with Fat-And-Ugly over here. He may be hefty, but he’s quick for his size. He manages to nick my cheek on one of his massive, meaty swings. He seems pretty proud of himself as he cackles.
“Some Grizzly you are, punk.”
Sneering, I lunge for him. Grizzly he wants, Grizzly he’s gonna get. I tackle him to the ground, catching him off guard. My whole weight forces him down and I take a heavy swing at him, punching him in the nose. Cartilage gives beneath my blow and blood spurts hotly over my fist. Fat-And-Ugly lets out a nasty scream and shoves me off of him.
He snorts and huffs like a wild bull, raging to get his dues. I brace myself as he barrels toward me, digging his heels into the grass and dirt beneath his feet. Bracing myself doesn’t fully prepare me for the weight that bears down on me, and the wind is knocked from my lungs as he hoists me up, ramming me back into one of the grills.
Good thing the bitch is off, so no burns. Bad thing, it’s still a fucking grill and hurts all the same.
A spasm wracks my back and I groan, but adrenaline prevents me fro
m staying down.
Tit-for-tat, I dance with this guy while chaos rages all around me. Breaking glass, grunts and shouts from my guys holding off these Viper fuckers. I have a blockade of guys keeping them from going into the house with the women and children, though it doesn’t stop them from throwing shit at the windows and shattering them. It boils my blood, and every strike I land on this guy works out the anger and frustration I feel over Marc letting his goons do this shit.
I’m in the zone. I let my anger fuel every hit, every well-placed punch. Fat-And-Ugly keeps up, somehow. Somehow, he gets a lead on me.
It happens when one of his hits aimed at my head manages to land. Starbursts glitter in front of my face and I blink, trying to get my bearings. He gets another hit in on me with those brass knuckles of his, however, and I go down in a curtain of black.
***
“He’s been out for a few hours, but at least it doesn’t look like anything’s severely broken.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll say he is. My man James has a hard head.”
There’s a soft, sad laugh that answers Santiago’s snark. Lena? Is she here?
I blink, immediately regretting the action. The light in the room is too fucking bright and it pains my already pounding head.
“What the fuck…”
“Hey man. Wakey, wakey.”
“Shut up, Santiago.”
He laughs.
“I’ll leave you two to yourselves. I’m gonna check on everyone else that was hurt and make sure everyone that’s not staying for now is sent off safely home.”
I lay there for a moment, quiet. There’s movement outside the room we’re in, voices. There’s worry in the tone. But, from Santiago’s demeanor, I can guess that at the very least no one died.
The bed dips a little, and the scent of Lena’s shampoo wafts up. Eyes still closed, I instinctively grab for her, missing once before my arms are around her and pulling her to rest against my chest.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. They didn’t get inside. Tried to,” she says. Her voice is shaky, like she’s been crying. I risk the light to open my eyes and see for myself. She’s got mascara smudged under her eyes. I frown.
“You been crying for me?”
She looks away, her cheeks red.
“I thought you… I thought they had really, really hurt you.” She’s quiet. A tremble rocks her words. “I kept thinking the whole time that it was my fault or…”
“Hey. Hey.” With a slight groan, I push myself, pulling her with me to sit. “Nothing about this was your fault, okay? I don’t blame you.”
“I know I just…”
There was something on her mind. I could tell. Something pressing. I take her face in my hands and look her in the eyes so that she knows what I say is what I mean.
“It wasn’t your fault. Those guys came around just to start trouble. I don’t know if Marc sent them to be an ass or if they were just acting on their own. But, whatever it was, they did it because they’re assholes, not because of you. They didn’t even mention you.”
She swallows, a big lump going down her throat. Her eyes are wet and she blinks away the tears that form.
“I just—it just had me thinking,” she says. “You’re a good man, James.”
I chuckle. “I don’t know about all that.”
“You are though.” She’s insistent. “You worked to keep everyone here safe and prevented a lot of people from getting hurt. You… I heard how you talked down those guys that came into the bar the other day, too.”
I’m shocked.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know what to say,” she admits. “I’ve never had someone stand up for me like that, James.”
It breaks my heart to hear her say it. No one’s ever stood up for her. No one’s ever told her and shown her that she’s worth respect. She’s been through hell, but who hasn’t? The thing that brings us out of it is knowing that there’re people outside of the fire willing to put out the flames.
“I’ll always stand up for you, Lena.”
She gives me a smile and leans forward pressing a kiss to my cheek.
“Let me clean you up a little.”
I watch her stand and make her way into the bathroom. Water runs and she comes back with a damp towel. Sitting beside me, she starts at my temple and moves her hand delicately over my face, cleaning up the dried blood that had crusted there. I wince a little when she gets to my cheek, where I was caught the hardest. She stops, but I urge her to continue.
“It’s okay.”
Lena eyes me like she’s looking for hesitation. I don’t give her any, and she continues.
She’s close. I watch her as she takes care of me. the delicate furrow of her brow as she takes in my injuries, the way she tuts as she observes the extent of them. I haven’t seen them yet, but I don’t imagine that brass knuckles against skin did anything for me.
I wonder if Lena likes scars. Does she think they’re rugged? Or, like Sarah, does she look on them with controlled concern because of the history they bring with them?
History… I want that with Lena. And as she tenderly cleans me off—lovingly cleans me off—I realize that somewhere in her is the same feeling of protection for me that I have for her.
She tilts my head and I take her hand. She looks at me with a wide-eyed curiosity as I lean in and kiss her beautiful lips. I said that I wouldn’t do this, that I wouldn’t let us do this, but she draws me into her like a moth to the flame and I’m powerless over how much I want her.
I breath in her sigh, taste her on my tongue. My arms wrap around her and I go to roll her to her back, but she stops me.
“What?” I ask. Did I do something wrong? “Is this okay?”
Lena bites her lip, plumping it up. Her forehead presses to mine.
“You’re still recovering,” she says. “Let me take care of you.”
I think she means to leave me alone, but instead she sets aside the rag she cleaned my face with and pulls back the covers. I watch her as she straddles herself over me, and I see the kindling fire in her eyes as she looks down to me. Lena wants this as much as I do. It’s been simmering since the first night we fucked, and now we’ve both got skin in this thing, whether we planned to or not.
She kisses me again, languid and fucking breathtaking. If she were a siren, I’d willingly throw myself overboard just to get a taste of her mouth on my tongue. Her body is soft under my hold as I run my hands up and down her sides, kneading into her without reservation. She gives a little kitten whine and I groan against her as her hips rock a little against the straining cock growing in my pants.
“I want you,” I breathe out. “Let me have you.”
She pulls back, looking at me. There’s a heat in her that sears me to the core as her teeth come down on her lip once more. She watches me as her hand slides down, over my clothed cock. I groan and rut up against it as electric pleasure shocks through me and settles deep in my gut. Lena doesn’t know that she’s got me right where I need to be, under her control, at her mercy.
She squeezes my cock a little, and I groan louder—maybe she does know.
Lena works me over my clothes, leaning in to kiss my lips, my jaw. I pulse under the confines of cotton boxers and denim jeans, desperate for the feel of velvet soft walls constricting around me. I don’t rush her, however. Not yet.
She wants to take care of me. I’ll let her.
Base to tip, zipper seam pressing into my painfully hard cock, I roll my hips into her hold and grip her hips in the hope that this will ground me in some way. It does, I suppose. As much as it possibly can, at least.
Finally, blessedly, Lena starts undoing my pants. Belt. Button. Zipper. She takes her time and, little fox she is, she watches me, holds me captive in her gaze. My breathing is off, almost labored as she pulls out my cock and starts to stroke me properly, taking her time in her ministrations. I’m already drippi
ng wet, getting my precum all over her hand. It just makes it easier for her to stroke the hot length in her hand.
“Fuck…”
My head tilts back and my hands fall from her hips to fist into the bedsheets. I rock my hips harder, trying to get a little more of that friction that Lena’s only teasing me with. I pant, I moan. I want her.
“Lena…”
