DESTROYED

by J, Bella

  “I’d say fuck you, but in the spirit of having a family barbecue, I’ll try my best to behave.”

  Alyx snickered. “Good boy.”

  Granite balked, blinked, and suddenly seemed like he wanted to tear his own skin off. “On second thought,” he glared my way, “fuck you. Fuck you,” he said to Manic before turning to Onyx, “and fuck you.”

  Onyx acted all offended. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to get my balls back after my old lady cut them off by calling me a good boy.”

  Everyone burst out laughing, including Alyx’s redhead friend. I was about to ask her about her tattooing talent when Neon caught my eye, struggling toward us with a crutch and her leg still in a brace. A part of me wanted to jump up and rush over there to help her, but after what happened in her room earlier, I knew she’d need space to breathe, to try to sort through her thoughts. Her mind was the strongest part of her, but also the weakest. It was strong enough to get her through the worst part of her drug addiction. It was strong enough to not allow her thoughts to be corrupted or manipulated. But it was weak when it came to letting things go. Or maybe that was another sign of strength, the fact that her mind kept holding on to things, even if those things had the ability to hurt her.

  “Neon, come sit here.” Alyx gestured to the seat next to her. “I want to talk to you and Red about something.”

  “Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?”

  Neon sat down across from me, her eyes only meeting mine for a second, a glance that spoke a thousand words.

  Alyx shifted in her seat. “So, I was thinking, what if Red helped you out with a tattoo?”

  “A tattoo?” Neon seemed confused.

  “Yeah.” Alyx weaved her fingers together, and I lifted a brow, wondering what she was up to. “I thought it could help, you know…covering the scars on your back.”

  Silence dropped like a heavy as shit concrete block, and suddenly no one was fucking breathing. Hell, no one was even fucking blinking. If we were in Texas right now, we’d be hearing crickets.

  Neon gaped, her gaze drifting from Alyx, to me, and then to Granite. “Um, okay—well, maybe we can discuss that later, when we’re alone and not surrounded by people who clearly know how to make an uncomfortable moment even more uncomfortable by staring at us.”

  “Let me take a look.” Red jumped up and went to stand behind Neon like she didn’t just hear what Neon said. “I’ll just take a peek.”

  Neon’s eyes grew wide, and she stared my way, her eyes saying ‘what the ever loving fuck is this?’

  Red leaned over, reaching out and looking down Neon’s shirt at the back. “Oh, I can totally work with this.”

  “Okay,” Neon objected and swirled her shoulders so Red could back off. “I think I need a drink.”

  Manic passed her a beer, and Neon’s face relaxed with relief. I had to smile at the way she handled Red’s blatant disregard for personal space, and Alyx’s very forward suggestion. If it was me, and Alyx and Red were dudes, I’d punch them both in the face. But not Neon. She knew how to keep a tight grip on her emotions—which was why her showing me her tears, telling me her fear of never feeling again, and our kiss made the moment we shared so fucking powerful. My insides were still coiled tight, and my black heart skipped a beat every goddamn time I thought about it.

  Red sat back down. “I’m thinking something delicate, lots of lines and shades, maybe some poison ivy—”

  “Like this?” Wraith lifted the side of her shirt, showing Red her tattoo.

  “Yes. Like that. Wow,” Red tilted her head, “that tattoo is stunning. Where’d you get it done?”

  I zoned out when Wraith and Red started to swap tattoo stories, chatting like they had known each other since fucking kindergarten. Nursing my beer, my gaze fell on Neon—of course it did. Her glossy purple hair looked radiant under the sun, and I had to admit I preferred the longer locks that flowed just below her shoulders. The dark brown swirls in her eyes gleamed, curtained by long, ink-black lashes. Her eyes always reminded me of mountaintops, strong yet subtle in every shape or form. Goddammit, this woman was just all kinds of perfect, and I hated that I never had the words to tell her just how fucking flawless she was—even with the scars she carried.

  I placed the empty can of beer on the table. “I like the idea.”

  Her gaze cut my way. “Of what? Me getting a tattoo?”

  “Yeah.” I leaned back, leisurely crossing my arms.

  “It won’t hide all the scars, Ink.”

  “It doesn’t have to.”

  She frowned. “Then why get it inked at all if it doesn’t cover all the scars?”

  “It’s about taking that thing you didn’t ask for and turning it into something you choose.”

  Our gazes were locked for what seemed like an eternity, and I knew that strong mind of hers was playing around with what I had just said. The way her heart-shaped lips pouted as she chewed the inside of her cheek, I knew was considering it.

  “Okay, let’s say I agree to get inked—”

  Manic snickered next to me. “Pun intended?”

  Both Neon and I glared his way, and he shrugged. “What? Jesus. Am I the only one with a goddamn sense of humor around here?” He got up and grabbed his beer. “It was funny. I laughed. Sue me.” And then he went to join Onyx by the grill.

  I focused my attention back on the woman in front of me. “You were saying?”

  She shook her head lightly. “As I was saying, let’s say I agree to get a tattoo, what would I possibly get that would be large enough to cover my entire back and not look like I’m a fucking walking canvas?”

  “When it comes to tats, the sky’s your limit. I mean,” I held up my hands inked from the fingers and up my arms, “look at me. The only part of me that’s not inked is my—”

  “Dude.” Manic walked past behind me. “We don’t want to know.”

  Neon smiled, and the sight fucking wrecked me. It was a smile that reached her eyes, one that had her entire face light up. It’d been so fucking long since I saw that look on her face, the look of a smile that wasn’t forced, or part of the brave face she felt she always had to put on around us.

  Caught up in the moment, I refused to take my eyes off her. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

  Voices around the table quieted, but I didn’t give a fuck. All I cared about was this gorgeous angel in front of me, a woman who held an immense amount of power over me just by fucking breathing.

  Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down while tucking a strand of violet hair behind her ear. I’d never seen this look on her before—shy, uncertain, and vulnerable. Neon was the type of woman who never shied at flirtatious compliments. In fact, she was pretty good at shrugging them off, cracking a joke of dismissing it with cheeky banter. But not today. She took my words and allowed them to sink in, the faint pink tint on her cheeks proof of that.

  “Ink,” she started, but her voice faltered.

  “I’m serious.” I didn’t care that there were people standing around us, the silence a sign that I managed to get everyone’s attention on us. I didn’t give a shit. All I cared about was her, and her alone. To me she was fucking everything. Fuck the sun. Fuck the moon and the stars and the air I breathed. She was my heartbeat. She was the blood in my veins. And the more I accepted just how much she meant to me, how in love I was with her, the easier it became to no longer hide it. The only thing holding me back from reaching for her and making her mine with zero intention of ever letting her go was the fact that I knew she wasn’t ready. Not yet. I had to constantly remind myself of that, stop myself from turning savage and claiming her in a way any man desired to claim his woman.

  I leaned forward, an attempt for a little privacy. “You’ve always been fucking beautiful to me. You were beautiful before all this fucked up shit happened…and you’re beautiful now. Nobody can change that. Ever.”

  I could see she was still digesting my words when I straightened from my
seat, my eyes never leaving hers. My heart was screaming at me to tell her more, to tell her every fucking thought I’d ever had about her. How I lay awake at night thinking of her, wondering what it would feel like to have her next to me sleeping in my arms while I watched her take every breath. The words were burning on the tip of my tongue, begging to be spoken. But it wasn’t the right time.

  After taking another moment to look at her, I forced myself to walk away before I said something she wasn’t ready to hear. But as I walked past her, she reached out and grabbed my hand. “Ink.”

  I stilled, brushing my hand down my face, fighting against the welcome heat of her touch on my skin. I couldn’t look at her. Feeling her eyes on me was powerful enough to aggravate my need to kiss her again—only this time, I wouldn’t stop. I wouldn’t have the control to pull away…not until she was mine in every goddamn way.

  She didn’t say anything, and I braved a quick glance down at her, her dark brown eyes burdened with unspoken words. But I saw it. I saw that which she couldn’t say.

  Wait for me. Her eyes were begging me to, pleading for me to not give up.

  I took her hand, leaned forward, and pressed a desperate kiss against her fingers, a silent promise that I would wait for her. No matter what.

  I’ll wait.

  Closing my eyes, I gathered every ounce of strength I had to let go and walk away. I had to. The connection between us was intensifying, growing stronger while it weakened me. I couldn’t afford to lose control now and risk pushing her away. Not when she was closer to me than she had ever been.

  9

  Neon

  Ink didn’t come back to join us once the burgers were done. And while everyone took part in some casual conversation about everyday, mundane stuff, I sat there picking at my food, wondering what was happening between me and Ink. For years, he made it clear he had sex on his mind when it came to me. But things were different now. There was a determination in his eyes whenever he looked at me, something he never had before. For the last few months, all I’d done was shut him out, shooting down his advances, refusing to accept his help. But if I was truly honest to myself, I’d admit he somehow managed to become this huge part of my life. There was something about knowing he was there for me that lifted some weight off my shoulders.

  The old me would never have allowed him close enough to kiss me. The old me didn’t allow any man to get close enough—not after the one man I loved with all my heart tore it to shreds, leaving me to fall in a puddle of pathetic mess. It took me years to pick myself up, and it was only when the Kings found me that I finally had the strength to rise above the pain of a broken heart. After that, I made myself a promise that I would never allow anyone to get so close to me again or give a man that kind of power over me. Never. But this time, everything was different. I was different. Ink was different. My entire outlook on life was different.

  “Tell me you’ll at least consider it.” Alyx’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  I stared at her, confused.

  “The tattoo.” Alyx glanced from me to Red and back at me. “Red’s work is amazing, and it’s not like you haven’t done it before. You have the Kings patch inked on your neck. And this date,” she reached for my wrist and held it up, “which I’m still trying to get you to tell me what date this is, exactly.”

  I pulled my hand from her grasp. “It’s March twenty-first, two thousand and fourteen. You can read, can’t you?”

  “Well, I mean I can see what the date is,” she flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I just want to know what makes this date so important that you’d permanently wear it on your skin.”

  I traced a fingertip over the numbers, remembering that day like it was yesterday. “Maybe one day.” I looked at her, forcing a smile. “I’ll tell you someday.”

  “Over pancakes?” She winked, and I had to let out a laugh.

  “Feed me pancakes, and I’ll take my secret to the grave.”

  She nudged my shoulder. “So, you’ll think about it? The tattoo?”

  “Yeah,” I conceded. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Great. Red will be staying with us a few days, so don’t think too long, okay?”

  “Oh, my God,” I huffed. “You putting a timestamp on my decision, Swan Lake?”

  “Sure am. Knowing you, you’ll just stall on the whole decision-making until everyone eventually forgets.” Alyx grinned. “I’m not forgetting this one.”

  “Clearly.”

  Dutch took a seat across from us, sneaking glances at Red every now and then. Crossing my arms, I smirked, leaning back in my seat. “You okay over there, Dutch?”

  “Huh?” Poor schmuck didn’t realize I noticed the way he looked at Red.

  “Pretty, ain’t it?”

  He took a sip from his beer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The day. It’s a pretty sunshiny day…isn’t it?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, and I practically heard the fucking penny drop in his head. “Yeah. It’s a pretty day.”

  “Makes you want to just reach out and grab it, doesn’t it?” I had to bite back the laughter, loving to see Dutch squirm under my knowing gaze.

  “Um, what are you guys talking about?” Alyx asked, and within seconds everyone stared at us. Poor Dutch’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, the perfect complement to his pale complexion that came with the red hair he hid from the rest of world by shaving it.

  “Nothing. Just the weather.” I smiled teasingly at Dutch, and he got up from his seat, placing his empty bottle of beer on the table.

  “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Neon.”

  I chuckled, and Alyx seemed more confused than ever, not to mention the redhead sitting next to her. “What just happened?”

  Granite cleared his throat, and when I looked his way, the half-smile on his face told me he knew exactly what I’d been teasing Dutch about.

  I got up, grabbed my crutch, and placed a hand on Alyx’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Swan Lake. Big daddy over there will clue you in a little later.”

  “Big daddy?” Redhead frowned.

  “Yup. And it’s got nothin’ to do with the size of his body, and more to do with the size of his d—”

  “Do not complete that sentence,” Alyx interrupted, her cheeks turning all shades of red.

  I winked at her. “I’ll see you girls later.”

  While I walked off, I smiled to myself, secretly feeling a sense of calm. It was amazing to have all these people around me, people I cared for. The banter, the bickering, and the overall feel of family and belonging, it was amazing. I didn’t know what I would have done without them…without the Kings.

  10

  Ink

  I lit a cigarette when we heard the roar of speeding Ducati engines. Crow and his crew wanted to meet up, discuss the problem of Slither’s disappearance. And if my instincts were anything to go by, my guess was Crow would want his pound of flesh since the snake fucked with his snow business. I knew men like him. There was no chance in hell he’d turn a blind eye after someone tried to fuck him in the ass. If there was a debt to be paid, he wouldn’t stop until it was settled.

  I leaned against the side of the van. “Remind me again why we have to roll in a cage whenever we meet with these assholes, yet they can show their balls by pitching with their hyperbikes.”

  Onyx stood with his arms crossed. “Because we’re not stupid.”

  “I dare you to say that in front of Crow,” Manic taunted with a huge-ass grin on his face.

  Dutch smirked before stepping in next to Onyx. He was no longer the club enforcer, yet he still acted like he was the head of fucking security. Poor fuck was torn between which brother he needed to protect.

  I straightened when the Sixes finally pulled up, Crow already approaching us. “I have to admit, it’s taking some getting used to seeing you at the front.”

  Onyx shrugged. “It’s a change all of us need to get used to.”


  Crow glanced over Onyx’s shoulder at Granite, giving a simple nod of acknowledgement his way, the cool swagger he carried so well never faltering. “So,” he started, turning his attention back to Onyx, “I’m guessing you haven’t found the fucker yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  Crow brushed his fingers against his neatly groomed beard, then plucked the two dice from his jacket pocket. It was his thing, dice. Crazy fucker. He always had a pair of dice with him, rolling them between his fingers, toying with them in his palm. It was those very dice that determined his enemies’ fate. By a simple roll of a dice, Crow played God, holding the fate of others literally in the palms of his hands.

  It wasn’t a coincidence the Gods of Six—or, as we called them, the Sixes—patch had two dice both rolled on sixes, with a grim reaper skull behind it, wearing a motherfucking top-hat. Such a contradiction between sophistication and fucking savagery.

  I’ve always wondered how he did that—acting like a savage one second, and then switching to a cool businessman the next. The Sixes were probably the only crew in the entire goddamn world who could slay in a leather cut and rule in a designer fucking suit.

  Crow glanced from Onyx to me. “I’ve been on these streets long enough to know that no one just fucking disappears like that. Everyone leaves a trace behind. Everyone.”

  Onyx shifted. “We’ve had our eyes and ears everywhere and came up short. It’s like the asshole never existed.”

  Crow placed his hands on his sides. “The fucker is hiding like a coward. He knows he’s a dead man walking.”

  Onyx glanced over his shoulder at me like he knew what I was thinking. He turned back to Crow. “What’s the plan?”

  “You mean once we find the fucker?”

  “Yeah.”

  Crow scoffed. “He dies, of course. No one fucks with my business and gets away with it.”

  “We have our own score to settle with Slither.” Onyx crossed his arms. “Is that going to be a problem?”