by V. Theia
Take it easy. He warned. Don't rush her.
Easier thought that done when he finally had the best tongue of his life back in his mouth.
She wanted platonic from him? liar. Zara was drawing bolder the longer their kiss went on, robbing them both of air, he slanted his head, allowed her to take a fast gulp of air before he drove back, deep. There was nothing platonic or friendly in how his mouth moved over hers, taking. Taking. Fucking owning.
"Now I got that out of the way." thickness corroded his voice box, eye to eye, she had a glazed expression on her face, fingers going to her kiss-swollen mouth. Rider smiled real damn slowly, cockily. He had plans for Zara and they didn't include being her damn friend.
A heavy knock on the door brought up his head suddenly in time to see Preacher open it over, and stall, his eyes flipping between Rider and Zara, reading the situation clearly, hard to miss with Rider in Zara's face, bodily leaning into her.
Great fucking timing. His boys had the best timing. No, really. Fucker.
"I need to put bells on you fuckers." He got up to his full height since kissing was done for now, but he savored her taste in his mouth, sweetness like no other. "What is it?"
"Yo, Prez. Z-girl. Boss, the boys are ready with the...shipment."
Fun was over. Rider's spine knotted and he shot a gaze down to Zara who was still touching her mouth. That fucking mouth. He swallowed a groan, he'd needed more time and now that time had run out. Eyes back with Preacher, he nodded.
"I want the core few in church, of all who is around in five. Hawk is with th-- it in the shed?" he got a chin jut affirmative. "Okay, tell them I'm on my way over."
Preacher left. The atmosphere had shifted and that was partly to do with his changing mood. An outlaw about to commit murder right after he'd just kissed the fuck out of a girl he wanted to belong to him. The fuck kinda timing was that? he wondered, and he clamped a lid on it fast, before it could rip him in half also questioning if it was a divine intervention telling him Zara wasn't ready for what he wanted from her.
He made a decision. "Zara. I wanna tell you somethin'."
"I know. I... We shouldn't have done that. I meant it when I said I wanted to be friends, Rider. I mean it was nice."
Nice. His jaw threatened to crack. "but let's forget it, okay?" was she aware she was rubbing a finger over her lip still? the move was sexy as hell as if she was savoring him in her mouth just as he had done.
Fuck this timing.
"We'll deal with that later; this is something else." It was important he had her eyes when he spoke to her so Rider parked it again on the edge of the desk. "Preacher was letting me know my boys are waiting for me. We have the rest of the Rebels, and I'm about to go deal with them." death was implied but not spoken, she didn't need the details, but something in his gut said he felt Zara should know this was happening, to help her with her healing. It was a first for Rider to disclose any club business to an outsider.
He saw her face drain of all color, instinctively he reached out to touch her, she drew back before he could make contact. He narrowed his eyes, understanding, but fuck ... that stung.
"They're here, at the MC?"
Rider nodded keeping his answer simple. "Not within the compound grounds. They're nowhere near you, baby, won't even know you're here."
"Hades?"
"No, not yet, but he'll be soon."
"I want to see them." she blurted, her voice stronger than it had been in the last minute.
Rider's gaze narrowed in on her. Was she crazy?
"What? Absolutely not, Zara."
******
Wires tore loose in Zara's head. Blood rushed through her ears making the white noise deafening. Barely-latched doors came open.
She ought to have known something ominous was about to happen since she'd seen the black sky tonight, so angry with full sinister clouds just looming up above. It was shaping up for a cold night and growing colder by the second from the way she shivered, though that had nothing to do with the weather. It took Zara an embarrassing amount of time to finally swallow back the emotion and speak. She wished she could say his kiss had fried her brain and that's why her fingers were shaking.
It had been a phenomenal kiss.
Out of this world kiss.
And now it had been pushed into the recess of her mind because she was shaking inside.
"I want to see them," she repeated. "You can't stop me, Rider. This is my decision. You're going to kill them, aren't you?" he didn't answer, but the tightness surrounding his jaw might as well have been confirmation. "Then I want to look them in the eye before you do. I deserve this. It was me they raped and beat and tormented. Me, Rider. It merits to look them in the face and tell them I hope they rot in hell."
Zara dreamed for months and years seeing every member of the Raging Rebels fall to a painful agonizing death one by one while she stood by and watched and did nothing to help them. She imagined on those worse days how they'd spontaneously catch fire while she drank a glass of water, or got hit repeatedly by a speeding bus that backed up and crushed them like mashed potatoes. She wanted them all to die.
Popping up from the metal chair, her nerves frying beneath her skin she felt a sense of peace and hatred all at once. This was all coming to an end finally.
Finally, she would have some closure.
"You will find Hades? you promise me?"
"I fuckin' promise that, baby. It's a long time comin' for him and now we dismantled his club he has nothing left, nowhere to hide."
Zara nodded, looking up into deep dark blue, her gaze unfathomable. He looked extremely rigid, calm, incredibly beautiful. And he was going to commit murder for her.
"I trust you to do that, Rider. So please understand when I say I need to do this for me, for my own sanity, so I don't have another day like that again."
"Jesus Christ. You think I'ma put you in the same room as those cunts? you think I'm that kinda man, Zara? when it was me who saw you break apart the other night, I watched you disappear, you fuckin' shattered right in front of me! the answer is no. Fuckin' no. You have my word this shit will be over soon."
"IT WAS ME, RIDER! NOT YOU! NOT ANYONE ELSE, IT WAS ME!" Her sudden burst of anger vibrated her insides. Eyes blazing dumping all her fury and despair onto him in one fell swoop. "It doesn't even matter which men you have out there, they all fucking touched me, they all fucking tormented me, they all fucking hurt me in ways I hope you can never imagine, Rider. Me! This was done to me. I want to look at them before they die and even if you're killing them for another reason, I don't care, I want them to see me and know it's because of what they did to me. Do you know what it's like to be passed around like you're a fucking toy, to be used so harshly blood runs down your thighs while fat ugly sweaty men just laugh and carry on? do you know how it feels to have abortions performed by someone who isn’t even a doctor and the pain afterwards, the vomiting where I thought I’d die from it? This was fucking done to me, Rider, I deserve to see my tormentors pay for it!"
Heavy inhales, Zara felt her head spin. Rider's face had closed down to resemble thunder, she knew she'd said too much the second she heard his vicious snarl filling the cabin, the noise echoing off every surface.
For a moment, she thought about reaching out, to touch him. She used to be such a tactile person once over, giving hugs regularly to those who needed it, now she hesitated and the moment passed them by when he snarled through clenched teeth.
"That doesn't convince me, if anything I wanna kill them harder, faster." darkness laced his voice.
Any other time Zara would have withdrawn away, felt fear. Her anger fueled her.
"This is club business, Zara. You are not club."
She felt the stab of it to the heart. A direct cold hit like he'd known the very thing to say that would affect her the most.
"No." she spoke quietly unwilling to let angry tears fall. "I'm not part of your club at all. Do what you want, Rider. You usually do, right? you're th
e boss, and everyone has to fall in line with you, fuck their opinions."
Coldly, she turned on her heel and left his office, closing the door quietly behind stumbling across the dark forecourt, her fast footsteps carrying her through the club, ignoring everyone.
Those men were here, perhaps not far, awaiting their fate and she couldn't have her last word.
It didn't matter if she knew Rider was doing the right thing, or what he thought was right in defending her, because in that moment as her body propelled her forward, along the corridor leading to the room she stayed in, she felt as though she could hate him.
You are not club. Why did that hurt?
Humiliation stung behind her eyes. Cheeks heated and her belly filled with anger. Zara kept on walking, down the long passage, past the laundry room and the doorway to the storage, and didn't stop until she'd reached the biggest dorm; Rider's room, her room for the past week. Making sure everyone knew what kind of mood she was in and to stay the hell away from her, she swung the door closed so forceful it slammed hard and swung back open. She huffed, and closed it slower this time before stomping inside. She couldn't even properly convey a bad mood with a good door slam. If that wasn't the story of her life.
The Souls clubhouse boasted a lot of rooms, some newly built and extended, it was a very clean building, not what you'd expect from a biker compound, nothing she was used to with Hades, his men lived in a slum, it was the nicest description for it. She'd grown to like it this week, it felt more welcoming than anything else had in a long time, but as she paced around the small room she was feeling closed in once more.
"Dumbass biker man." She muttered. None of the anger dissipating.
If anything, she brought Rider and his slow building rogue smile to mind and wanted to punch him right in the mouth that had kissed her.
Her back to the door, she heard it creak open not even a minute later. Every muscle tightened, her spine tight knowing instinctively who it was.
He'd followed her.
She refused to speak. She had nothing to say to him. Stubborn jerk on his tall throne and only his words are law.
Long live the Outlaw.
Not a word, she chastised, folding her arms, pretending to take an interest out the window at the moon hung low in the sky.
Zara could feel Rider approach her on silent feet. She was adamant she had nothing to say to the dumbass MC president. But then.
"You can turn right around again and leave me alone, there's nothing you can say you haven't already rammed down my throat that I want to continue to hear, mister Prez. You have commanded, so do what you do."
"Prez? I was Rider to you ten minutes ago, with your tongue in my mouth." She could hear the smirk in his tone, felt it streak into her belly even when she denied feeling anything for the jackass caveman. "You're being a brat stompin' your foot for shit you don't understand about club business, Icy..." His underlying tone was still fuming.
Well tough shit, she had the big bad biker man beat there.
Wait. What.
She was being a-----of all the----- Zara spun around so fast, her eyes narrowed to accusing slits. Rider's face wasn't any better with his own thunderous gaze trained on her as he advanced and kept on coming. Backing her up until she hit the dresser with her spine.
"I'm gonna kill them. That's all you gotta know. I'll bring their heads on a fuckin' platter if you need that conclusion." she supposed he thought he was being chivalrous, instead, his obstinate mind only pissed her off.
"This is supposed to be my room, you can't just push your way in. Don't you have homicide to do?" One second she allowed herself to really look at him, to wallow in those rich blue eyes with the thin green filaments, thick brows folded over in concentration, the cut of his jaw and the way thin strands of hair had escaped his bun and hung against his ears. One second that was all, really looking at him when for days she'd barely allowed her eyes to betray past feelings.
Anything more than a second and she'd remember she was angry with him.
She already had a Trader Joe bag full of issues without admitting to the real lust she felt for this man. He'd kissed her. Really kissed her, nothing tentative about Rider, he'd knocked her socks off and she'd liked it. And then ruined it.
He stepped into her space making him larger than life, though her bones tensed up she wasn't afraid. "I barely pushed in, Icy, and this is my room, how many times I gotta tell you. And stop fuckin' flinchin' when I get near, it's startin' to piss me off." He clipped.
The lift of his lips gave him a look of contrite humor as though the MC president wasn't a lethal alpha wolf in his kingdom.
Zara knew differently.
She'd seen him in action that night... a demon coming through the Raging Rebels club with a navy bandana masking the lower half of his face, a stride so powerful she shuddered in memory, like he owned the place, ripping with violence and blood until there was nothing left, just a little girl broken on the floor. He'd picked her up and carried her out.
Her anti-hero.
Zara's head went back, chin lifted in defiance. Her pulse pattering, she could hear the noise of blood rushing in her ears, her stomach flipping wildly over and over. She sought out his face, passed her eyes across all that handsome and rough maleness. God, why did he have to be so good looking? why was time so good to him? he'd aged and grown so much more. Everything.
He was too close to her, robbing Zara of air. His smile was a frozen, tight thing, thinning out his lips as if sensing her every thought and not liking it one bit. She was close enough to see the bristles of his dark beard, not too long, it curved along his rigid jaw perfectly and the few stray hairs at the fringes of his brows. His long lashes. The man was too beautiful for his own good and from all certainty he was only going to get better with age.
Unless he took to the booze heavily as a recreational hobby he could easily get a beer belly, she mused, but it didn't go much further, much too distracted when his thumb moved on her cheek. Her blush hit a higher level.
His touch was heaven.
And he looked like sex and secrets.
Yes, he should get a belly on him, one that hung over his jeans... maybe then she wouldn't want to stroke his hair and rub her cheek on his beard.
Everything she'd endured, the most deplorable sex acts imaginable, she shouldn't be craving intimacy with Rider. Sex with him would be different.
Sex with him had been... glorious. Life changing.
The craving was growing.
There was only one thing for it. She'd have to leave very soon.
"Let me go." she implored in a quiet voice breaking eye contact. If she carried on looking up at him she'd crumble and she wanted to keep on being annoyed at him. Anger worked so much better than feeling vulnerable and weak and incompetent.
The swift intensity in him was startling, Zara's head reared up. Rider hadn't spoken a word, so why did she feel the air change around them? His eyes tracked from her face, and down, she followed the motion to see why he hadn't stepped back. She was gripping the front of his black wife beater. He’d made contact, and he didn’t want to break it. And now it seemed as if she had, too.
Oh. She’d been unaware she'd taken a grip of him. Her fingers unclenched releasing him, his warmth, even with inches between them, made her dizzy. Gaze fixed on his chest, she stepped back breaking all contact finally, only then did air return to her lungs.
In out. In out. And breathe.
"I'm thinkin' of you, Zara. You don't need to see those fuckers, don't need to be in the same air ever again. Let me do this for you."
"If you call wanting to take care of myself being a brat, then so be it, but don’t decide what’s best for me, only I know that. I won't change my mind, Rider. I want to do it for myself, for the fear and loneliness and self-hatred I have trapped inside of my head served at the hands of pigs, but this is your club, nothing to do with me as you said, so you do you, I won't say another word about it." The clank of the air conditioning was a
good excuse to put even more space between them, walking to the window to switch it off, instantly regretting it when the room fell completely silent, only the sound of his hard inhale.
"For fuck's sake, do you even know what you're askin’, Zara, really? Why would you take yourself to that place again after what they did, seein’ them, rememberin’? when you know I got this for you. Those bastards will suffer for you until they beg to die."
With every word, she watched Rider grow tense, veins stood out on his forearms when his fists clenched on his hips. Those ocean eyes she avoided pinned her and she knew then just how dangerous this man was, why men feared him, his reputation not only preceded him, it clanged truth for miles.
He was dangerous.
Just not to her.
How could she explain the turmoil she felt inside so he’d understand how helpless she was because of it, the ugliness she carried or why looking at the Rebel's men would for once give her the power back to move forward with her life.
It wouldn't be a big accomplishment but it would be something.
They’d reached a stalemate.
“I gotta go, Icy. Stay inside, okay? I'll come back to you.” Zara looked at him without emotion and nodded. Rider sighed and set off for the door, only turning back when he reached it. “You were sweet for me earlier, don’t take it back, Icy. It’s mine. I’ll be back soon.” He was towered over her a second later, cupping her cheeks he kissed her mouth, a fast press of closed lips and then he was gone, leaving Zara touching those same lips feeling him there.
A kiss before he went to murder.
Poetic. Or plain terrifying. A chill moved through her.
Zara couldn’t decide.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“So, we’re all agreed, no fucker ever pisses off the girl. Ever. I swear it on my balls. – Lawless
This was Hawk's wheelhouse, the place he could unleash his maniac side and relish in the kill. For what he'd contributed to the club these past four years alone he'd racked up a score of hundreds of bastards he'd put to ground, damaged them in a way that until their last breath they'd know just who had fucked them up. He was particularly skilled with a pipe wrench, cracking it against bones in just a way it shattered them into thousands of tiny little pieces. The work would take a team of doctors to even repair such a break would be monstrously difficult. Hawk always smiled when he broke bones, he said he liked the sound they made, but who could hear a bone cracking when the recipient was too busy screaming his fucking head off.
