Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4)

by Anne Malcom

  Cut. A little voice whispered the word to me. Cut, not vest. That’s what they called it, the leather they wore with the club’s patch embroidered on it.

  I swallowed and moved my gaze up again. He had a strong, clean-shaven jaw and wasn’t as tall as Brock, nor as muscly. That didn’t mean he was short or lean. He just wasn’t Giganto. Which was good, I wouldn’t need a ladder to kiss him, just high heels.

  Wait, why in the heck was I thinking about kissing him? You had to be able to talk to hot guys in order to kiss them.

  “Hey, it’s Lily right?” Brock addressed me with a smirk, though his tone was kind.

  I jerked, tearing my attention away from rich chocolate eyes. Oh shit. I’d been standing in front of them, silent and staring like I should be wearing a helmet to bed or something. Mortification commenced, but luckily I had tequila on my side.

  “Yeah, Lily. That’s me, my name I mean. I’m not an actual Lily because that’s a flower and I’m a human named after a flower,” I babbled, realizing only just now the extent of my drunkenness. Or maybe my social awkwardness.

  Brock grinned, the dark haired one stared at me, his eyes roving my bikini-clad body.

  I ignored the feel of his eyes, the dip in my stomach at his gaze. I swallowed and focused my attention on Brock.

  “Sooo, are you having a good night?” I asked, trying to remember why the heck I’d come over here. I struggled not to fidget with my hands, and my eyes darted around in search of an escape.

  Brock’s grin got bigger. “I wasn’t, till now. Lucky you gals need your liquor, or I would’ve missed out on all this,” he said, waving his arm around the party.

  A light bulb lit atop my head. “Liquor,” I exclaimed in relief. “Yes, liquor. That’s why I’m here... not here in this house, but here,” I pointed to the ground then gestured between us. “Like here in front of you. Amy wanted me to get the booze.” I pointed to her, hoping to get the attention off me and what a bumbling idiot I was.

  Brock’s smile dimmed slightly as he followed my eyes. He shook his head.

  “I got it, darlin’. Amy shouldn’t be sending you over here to do her dirty work. I’ll take care of her. You have a good night now.” He winked at me and then moved toward Amy, who tried to ungracefully scramble off her chair. I wanted to watch, but my brain was looking out for me when I realized I was standing alone with the hot biker. One that hadn’t stopped staring at me throughout the entire painful exchange. I attempted to move to make my escape, before I did something that would require me to die of embarrassment tomorrow morning.

  A firm grip stopped me. I jolted at his touch. Not in a ”he’s manhandling me” type of jolt, but a ”my panties are on fire from his hand touching my arm” type of jolt.

  God. I was such a virgin.

  “Not so fast, flower,” his gravelly voice swept around me like a physical thing.

  I tottered on my feet slightly as his grip tightened and he pulled me closer to him, his eyes on mine. Up closer he was even more beautiful. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and his skin was tanned and flawless. I wanted to run my hands over the stubble covering his sharp jaw.

  “Are you new in town too, like Gwen and Amy?” he asked, his hand now trailing down my arm softly.

  I swallowed, my mind on his casual touch and my not so causal reaction. Realizing he was staring at me waiting for some sort of answer, I shook my head slowly.

  He grinned, showing a row of perfect white teeth. Movie star perfect. “You care to articulate on that?” he asked, teasing.

  “You have nice teeth,” I blurted.

  Holy shit. Did I just tell him he had nice teeth? No. I didn’t. Tequila did. I searched the backyard for a hole to crawl into, and not leave until I was eighty.

  The hand tightened again as if he was sensing I’d bolt. “Easy, flower,” he murmured, pulling me even closer. “These teeth don’t bite,” his eyes turned hooded, “unless you want them to.”

  His voice was full of such sensual promise I felt my knees shake. Like actually shake. What the heck did you say to that?

  “Um,” I whispered. “I think I like my skin sans bite marks, you know, for now,” I added in a small voice.

  For now? Did I just flirt?

  He grinned again, but this time there was a serious heat to his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, flower.” His chocolate eyes continued to hold me hostage while his huge hand trailed up my bare skin. I shivered in desire from the casual touch. He seemed to notice my response because his eyes flared. “So, since you’re not new around here, how is it I haven’t seen you before?” he continued. “And trust me, I would remember seeing you.” His eyes left fire in their wake as they swept across my scantily-clad body.

  I wanted to cover myself with my hands. My bikini had seemed perfectly appropriate in a party full of women. Now, I understood I was practically naked in front of this beautiful man. The power of his gaze had me feeling uncomfortable. Another part of me wanted him to look, wanted to imagine the desire in his gaze wasn’t a figment of tequila muddled imagination.

  “I don’t um, get out much,” I told him truthfully.

  Understatement of the century. At high school, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call popular. I never got picked on or anything, in order to get picked on, you had to get noticed. I didn’t. I was forgettable and didn’t stand out. There was nothing special about me. So I had a handful of friends, studied a lot, read a lot, and hung out with my mom a lot. I also had to study my ass off in order to get the grades to qualify me for a full ride at college. My mom and I weren’t exactly rolling in it. She was a free spirit, an artist. And although she was talented, she didn’t make a huge amount off her art, enough to keep food on the table, only with me helping out with a part-time job at the supermarket. No way was I getting college tuition paid for. Not that I was bitter. My mom gave me a wonderful life, a beautiful life. She got us out of a nightmare to do that.

  I got it, the full ride. It was at a college thirty minutes away in Tasman Springs. A lot of kids wanted to cross the country to start their foray into adulthood. Not me. I couldn’t leave my mom. Couldn’t stand being so far away, not when I knew neither of us would be able to afford the airfares to visit often enough. The idea of moving somewhere unfamiliar where I didn’t know anyone terrified me. Plus, since I was this close I could work for Gwen on weekends. So between college, working, Mom and my newer college friends, I didn’t have time for much else.

  The man regarded me. I say man. Every other member of the opposite sex I encountered I thought of as ”boys.” The only ones I ever really encountered were ones from school, and they were mostly concerned with drinking, sports, and getting girls into bed. Boys. But, even though he couldn’t be that much older than me, he was definitely a man.

  “That’s good,” he muttered, stroking my arm.

  “What’s good?” I squeaked.

  His eyes bore into mine. “That you don’t get out much. If you did, I expect I’d be fighting every one of my brothers for your attention.” His gaze flickered over to where Amy had stormed off, Brock following. “Well, almost all,” he added, eyes back on me.

  My mouth dropped open. Then I closed it, realizing how unladylike this was.

  “No one would be fighting for my attention, trust me,” I mumbled with certainty. The men I’d seen connected to the Sons of Templar were hot. Hot with a capital H. “Hot with a capital H” men did not bother themselves with plain, mousy college girls who were so shy they turned mute in their presence.

  His brow furrowed. “Trust me, I’m counting my blessings right now that I’m the one who laid eyes on this beautiful flower before anyone else,” he promised, voice husky.

  I swallowed and felt my face redden. I wasn’t used to compliments, didn’t know what to do with them. My mom told me I was beautiful, but she was my mom, and it didn’t count. Moms were biologically programmed to find their offspring beautiful. Ditto with my best friend Bex, who was definitely someone boys would fi
ght over. She was my best friend, it was part of her duties to try and inflate my non-existent ego.

  “I don’t know your name,” I blurted.

  I couldn’t very well be calling him “The Panty Dropper” when I relayed this story to Bex at the dorms on Monday. I would also need it for the short novel I planned on penning in his honor.

  “You definitely need to know my name, babe,” he grinned.

  His other hand went to my waist. I was pretty sure I stopped breathing when he pulled me even closer. Close enough I could feel the heat from his torso. For once the absence of breath felt like a pleasant thing.

  “Asher,” he whispered, his breath tickling my face.

  I gazed up at him. “Asher,” I repeated, tasting the beautifulness of it on my tongue. “Cool name,” I added dreamily.

  His gaze burned into mine and he regarded me intently. He then shook himself and his face relaxed slightly, there was a glint of heat in his eyes.

  That moment, right then, was when I started to fall. Fall so hard that the pain of the crash to the ground still stung three years later.

  Present Day

  “Coffee,” a husky voice ordered.

  My cup was snatched out of my hand by a sleep-rumpled Bex, her dark black hair messed into a bird’s nest. The dips of purple at the ends were uneven due to it sticking in all direction. Her mascara was smudged around her eyes, and the tee she was wearing had holes in it and barely covered her butt. Somehow, she still looked good, if a little ragged.

  Aiden regarded her, his gaze blank. The two had never really gotten on. Straight-laced law student Aiden, and wild child, med student turned stripper Bex didn’t exactly mesh. But they both pretended they liked each other for my sake.

  After Bex had downed her (my) coffee she blinked to regard the scene with slightly more alert eyes. We both rivaled each other in the caffeine addiction department. We both got little to no sleep, and required the stuff to do things like talk and not bump into walls.

  She blinked at me for a couple of moments, then her eyes watered slightly, and she embraced me.

  “How you doin’, kid?” she asked my hair.

  I sank into her embrace. She smelled like perfume and cigarette smoke, it was comforting. She’d called me kid since the first day we met, even though we were the same age. She’d said it was because I looked like a lost child on the first day of school. The loud and boisterous girl had taken me under her wing ever since.

  “I’m okay,” I told her, once I’d been released.

  Both Aiden and she looked at me skeptically. One thing they could agree on at least.

  I whirled around, getting myself another cup since Bex stole mine. “I’m fine okay, guys?” I told them after my mug was filled.

  Again, I was met with disbelieving stares.

  “We knew this was going to happen. I knew it was going to happen. I said goodbye. I was prepared,” I lied, the words feeling sticky on my tongue.

  Bex opened her mouth, seeing right through me.

  “I need to shower and get dressed. I can’t be late to the funeral,” I interrupted, before she could say something that would risk that pins and needles feeling coming back. I didn’t need that. I needed to get through today. I had no choice. That was my life. I didn’t have the luxury of breaking down. I had to keep going. Keep running from the big bad that threatened to break me down. I couldn’t break down, only rich people had the luxury of indulging in breaks from reality. Normal people, people like me had to keep going, keep running, keep upright. As soon as you stopped, you fell. It was over. So I kept going.

  Bex gave me a sad look then nodded. “You do you, babe,” she muttered. “I’m going to go and stick my head in the refrigerator. Hopefully, that’ll make it stop pounding,” she added, kissing me on the cheek.

  We had tied one on last night. Well, Bex had tied one on. I had one glass of vodka, my mind already in a perpetual state of numbness. Aiden had sipped on a beer while watching Bex down almost an entire bottle with an ill-concealed scowl. He was judging her, I wasn’t. My mom was like a second mother to Bex. No, strike that, only mother.

  Bex grew up in the system, her life as rough as it could get. She barely knew love, affection, or tenderness. The world had chewed her up and spit her out before she was out of diapers. Somehow, she still knew how to give love, even though she never received it. The moment she became my best friend was the moment my mom took her in as a second daughter. It hit her hard. When you’d never had anyone to count on before, then get that taken away, it seemed like all the light and sunshine in the world had been sucked away and that you were living in a night that would never end. I knew because I was living in darkness, scared I’d never feel the warmth of a new day, that the sun would never rise for me again.

  So, that’s why I sat with her, letting her drink herself into a stupor while we talked about inconsequential things. How shitty she got treated at the club. How I had to contact my college and get back into study before my scholarship was yanked out from under me. How our landlord wouldn’t get our window fixed. Anything but the dreaded elephant in the room that had already stomped on my soul. Aiden had carried her to bed after she passed out. I was surprised she was able to function this morning. The one time I got wasted, I felt like death warmed up. Plus, I had woken up to a hot biker who’d just taken my virginity.

  Shush Lil. Mustn’t think of him. Not now. Not when your fractured soul is barely hanging on. Thinking of him, of what could have been, that will tear it to shreds.

  Aiden gave me a long look before he moved in front of me, putting his coffee cup down so he could frame my face with his hands. His eyes searched mine.

  “You’re strong because you think you have to be,” he started softly. “But it’s okay to let it out, be upset. I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

  I plastered on a fake smile. “I’m okay, really,” my voice sounded weak to even my own ears, but I soldiered on, “Thanks, Aiden. You’ve been great. The best, I don’t want you to have to drop everything in your life because of what’s going on in mine.”

  Aiden frowned. “It’s not dropping everything; this is where I want to be. With you. Supporting you. Taking care of you,” he responded firmly.

  “I’m here too,” Bex cut in from the refrigerator. Everything was a competition for them, even who was the most supportive.

  I frowned, on the inside at least. My outward smile hadn’t dimmed. It was on autopilot, a separate entity from my actual emotions. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me. I took care of myself. My mom took care of me in her own slightly eccentric way, and when she couldn’t do that, I took care of us both. Now it was just me.

  “I’ll go home, shower, change,” Aiden interrupted my heart-breaking thought process. His hands tightened, and he bent slightly to catch my eyes. “I’ll come pick you and Becky up, take you to the cemetery, ‘kay?”

  I nodded, not feeling like protesting anymore.

  He looked at me once more, nodded, almost to himself. He leaned in to kiss me softly on the mouth. It was nice, comforting almost. But no fire.

  “You got me through this, you know that right?” he asked against my mouth.

  I nodded mutely again.

  His hands tightened, and he pulled back. “I’ll be back just before we need to be there,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I replied softly, meaning it. I couldn’t exactly process whatever our relationship was right now, but it was nice having him here, however selfish that was.

  When he shut the door, Bex made a farting noise with her mouth sticking her head out of the refrigerator where it had been stashed.

  I gave her a look.

  She looked back. We had a wordless conversation about her not saying mean things about my kind of boyfriend who was hot, caring, nice, and completely perfect—also completely not right. I didn’t add the last bit into our non-verbal conversation.

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, sticking her head back into the refrigerator. />
  I grinned, despite myself. It almost held a bit of true amusement, deep down. I stumbled toward the shower, coffee cup still in hand. I didn’t drink, smoke, or take drugs, but coffee was my vice. Hence, me taking it to the shower. Plus, it was a requirement in my normal life when I was lucky to get five hours sleep. Ever since the news, I’d been functioning off what felt like five minutes. I regarded my reflection in the bathroom mirror setting my cup down on the cracked sink.

  “You’re a mess, Lily Smith,” I muttered to myself.

  My blonde hair was parted in the middle, and the side braid I’d put in last night was half falling apart, strands of my long hair escaping down my back. The skin on my face was sallow, almost transparent it was that pale. My blue eyes were lost in the bags and dark circles surrounding them. They were the one thing I liked about myself. Everything else was just ordinary. My height, my weight, my face, even my freaking last name. My eyes had always been something I’d felt made me different. They were blue, ice blue, and my mom always said they changed color when I was in different moods. If that was true, then I feared they’d always be this dull and lifeless.

  “You can do this,” I whispered to the defeated girl in the mirror.

  “You can do this, peanut,” my mom’s voice whispered in my ear.

  A single tear trickled down my cheek.

  “I can do this.”

  We arrived early. I had this thing about being early. I had to be early. If I wasn’t, the ever present weight on my chest got heavier, the later it got, the heavier the pressure was. Which was funny, considering my mom was always late. No one got annoyed with her whenever she finally arrived, smiling, beautiful, and full of life. I spent most of my teenage and adult life hurrying her, dragging her along so we’d be on time. She’d always said she’d be late to her own funeral. It was some kind of sick irony or cosmic joke that she hadn’t actually “arrived” yet, considering the hearse was running late.