King's Descendants MC - BOXED SET

by Bella Jewel

  “Do you touch everyone while they sleep?” he murmurs, in a husky voice.

  I remove my fingers, and then give a little nervous laugh because my god, I had no idea he was awake.

  “Was it creepy?” I ask, my voice light.

  “Little bit.”

  He opens his eyes and looks over at me, and sleepy, he looks even better. I smile down at him, and then push myself up into a sitting position. My head aches a little, and as I recall just how much I drank last night, I shudder.

  “How’s the head?” he asks, sitting up and stretching his arms.

  “It’s . . . okay. I drank a lot.”

  “Figured as much when you jumped me as soon as I walked in.”

  “I did not jump you.” I laugh, my cheeks get a little warm.

  “You jumped me.”

  Cocky bugger. “Well, I’m sure it was worth it.”

  “Fuck yeah it was.”

  I flush and then rub at my temples. “I’m going to feel this one today.”

  “Have a shower, and I’ll make you some breakfast. It’ll help.”

  He’s going to make me breakfast.

  My heart flutters.

  I turn and reach over, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. I unlock it to see twenty-nine missed calls from Dax. I must have had it on silent. Oh god, this can’t be good. This cannot be good at all.

  “Oh no,” I murmur.

  “What’s wrong?” Mykel asks.

  “Dax called me . . . a lot.”

  I turn the phone towards him, and when he sees the amount of calls, he tells me to call him back right away because it could be important and something they need to know. I don’t want to, everything inside of me doesn’t want to, but I do. I press his number and then put the phone on speaker so Mykel can hear it.

  “Waverly,” Dax answers, his voice tight. “Where the fuck have you been? If I fucking call you, you fucking answer me. Do you understand me?”

  Mykel’s fists clench immediately, and I give him a worried expression.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t well and I turned my phone off,” I say, trying to keep the anger and frustration out of my voice, because right now, I want to tell him to go fuck himself.

  But I can’t.

  So I have to be nice.

  Dax exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to go crazy on you. I was worried and . . .”

  You were worried I went and told everyone what you did.

  “I’m okay. Is everything okay there?”

  “No. Peter is coming around tonight, and he’s going to lose his shit when I tell him about Bennett. I need you here. I need something that’s going to stop him from fuckin’ having my head. This shit is messy, and I can’t take a whole lot more of it.”

  I glance at Mykel again, and his jaw is scarily tight.

  “Are you sure it’s safe for me to go around there?”

  “Peter won’t hurt you. Nobody will hurt you when I’m around.”

  I swallow and exhale. “I can come over later.”

  “Thank you. I have a plan. It’ll work. I just have to do some things today to make sure it’ll be enough to please him. Fuckin’ asshole is never happy.”

  A plan.

  That can’t be good.

  That can’t be good at all.

  “What’s the plan?” I ask.

  “I can’t discuss it over the phone, but I need you here this afternoon, Waverly. Can you be here?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  We talk for a few minutes more and then I hang up. Mykel growls. “Does he always fuckin’ talk to you like that?”

  “No.”

  Dax doesn’t talk to me like that, and the fact that he just did scares me a little because I’m worried he might lose it and do something bad. Up until this point, I’ve felt safe around Dax because of how he felt for me, but he’s unhinged right now, and I’m getting worried about having to be alone with him, and Peter . . . God. No.

  “I don’t think you should be going.”

  “I don’t think I get much of a choice.”

  His face is tight. I have to go because if I don’t, this is all going to go bad very quickly, and we’re so close to the end.

  “I’ll talk to Alarick and see what he wants me to do. Maybe he’ll want to move the plan closer . . .”

  “They’re not prepared enough; you’ll just have to go out there and do your best not to cause any problems.”

  That’s not going to be easy—not right now.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I honestly don’t.

  “I’m afraid,” I admit.

  I don’t like to show that I’m scared, considering I was the one who wanted to do this for the club. I don’t feel at ease. I don’t feel safe. I know they’re here to protect me, but when I walk through those doors and into that house, I’ll be all alone, and anything can happen to me there.

  Mykel sits up and leans forward, taking my face in his hands and saying in a strong, secure voice, “You will not be harmed. If any harm comes to you, I’m going to make sure every single motherfucker who hurts you suffers.”

  That makes me feel better, and yet at the same time, so much worse.

  It would be too late by then.

  I shake my head and get out of the bed, pulling on some clothes and picking up my phone. “I’m going to call Alarick and see what he wants me to do.”

  I walk out of the room, not because I don’t want to be near Mykel anymore, but because my heart is aching and I feel like I’m going to scream with the tension building in my chest. I don’t want Mykel to see me like this; I know he already doesn’t like the fact that I’m in there, let alone the fact that I’m scared.

  I reach the kitchen and turn the coffee-maker on, and then I take my phone and dial Alarick. He answers after a few rings, in a sleepy voice. “Waverly, what is it?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Alarick, but I have to tell you that Dax wants me out there this afternoon. He kept calling and when I didn’t answer, he freaked out. He told me he has a plan, and that I can help him with it, but I have no idea what that plan is. I wanted to know what you think I should do?”

  “He didn’t say anything about what he was thinkin’?”

  “No.”

  “Fuck,” he murmurs. “Go out there, and I’ll have Bohdi and Mykel wait close by. We’ll give you a time to get out, and if you don’t come out, we’ll come in. I’m not goin’ to let anyone hurt you, Waverly. It’s gettin’ dangerous and now, more than ever, you need to be careful. You ever shot a gun?”

  “Ah, I mean, sure . . . When I was younger my dad taught me.”

  “Mykel can give you a lesson. You’re not goin’ in unarmed anymore.”

  “If Dax sees me with a gun . . .” I say, my voice a little shaky, “. . . I could end up in trouble.”

  “Dax sees you with a gun and freaks out, then at least you have a fuckin’ gun to protect yourself.”

  He has a point.

  “Put Mykel on. I’ll go over it with him. We’re goin’ to finish this soon and get you outta there, you hear me?”

  “I hear you.”

  I hand the phone to Mykel who has just walked into the kitchen. He’s shirtless and god damn, he looks delicious in the morning. I make a mental note to take one more out of him before I leave, one more fuck that is. I wouldn’t mind something to take my mind off this again.

  “Alarick wants to talk to you.”

  I hand him the phone and he takes it, bringing it to his ear and turning away. “Pres?”

  He chats for a few minutes and when he hangs up, he looks back at me and with an outstretched hand containing my phone. “Ready to learn how to fire a gun?”

  I scrunch my face and then say, in a small voice, “I guess.”

  “Good, then let’s do this.”

  Sure.

  Let’s.

  “YOU’RE NOT PAYIN’ ATTENTION, Waverly.” Mykel growls, crossing his arms and glaring at me.

&n
bsp; “That’s because you keep bloody touching me, and pressing your dick against my back, and it’s really really hard to concentrate.”

  “Can’t help my dick fuckin’ touching you when I’m tryin’ to show you how to aim.”

  “Well, can’t you push your bum out, so it doesn’t touch me?”

  He growls again.

  I stomp my foot and stare at him with a frustrated expression.

  “Did you just stomp your fuckin’ foot at me?”

  “Yes, yes, I did.”

  We’re standing in the middle of the woods, god knows where, and Mykel has set up some targets in a clearing and is trying to show me how to shoot a gun. I mean, I can shoot it just find; my aim, however, isn’t the best. He’s attempting to explain to me just how to get my target, and make sure I don’t miss, but every time he comes up to me and wraps his arms around me to hold my arms straight, I feel his big body against my back and my mind just shuts down.

  I want him so bad, it’s a little embarrassing if I’m being honest.

  He does something to me, something that makes me weak at the knees. Every single second I’m around him, I’m thinking about him being inside of me and my whole body comes to life with tingles of anticipation.

  It’s not at all helpful right now.

  “Come here,” he mutters, grabbing my arm and leading me to the truck.

  “We’re leaving?” I ask, confused.

  “No, Waverly. I’m goin’ to fuck you so you stop thinkin’ about it and pay attention to what I’m trying to show you.”

  My cheeks heat as he presses my back against the truck, and he looks down at me with an expression that makes me suck my bottom lip into my mouth.

  “Would you rather I didn’t?” he murmurs, his voice raspy as he stares at my lips.

  “Oh no, I’m not complaining.”

  “You’re fuckin’ insatiable. You always like this?”

  “No,” I tell him honestly. “I mean, a girl loves sex, but you . . .”

  “I what?” he growls, spinning me around so that my front is pressed against the truck now, and my back is to him.

  “You make me crazy, I don’t know what it is. All I know is that when I’m around you, I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel inside of me.”

  “You can tell me how good I feel while I take these fuckin’ jeans off.”

  Oh, boy.

  Oh, yes.

  He takes my jeans and jerks them down, and I kick off a boot so I can get one leg out. That’s all I need. I made a point of not wearing any panties. I wasn’t exactly anticipating that we’d have sex, but I wasn’t ruling it out, either. I mean, look at him, wearing his blue jeans, a dark tee covered by a red rolled up flannelette shirt that makes him look like a goddamned mountain man.

  Within seconds, he has his hands on my ass, his cock freed from his jeans and he’s kicking my legs apart with his foot. He steps forward, cock in his hand, and then he’s inside me. Deep and hard. No messing around. I whimper and my hands grip the sides of his truck as he starts fucking me with a ferocity I’ve never experienced. Ever. In all my life.

  “Now,” he rasps, his voice low and deep. “Tell me how fuckin’ good I feel.”

  “So good,” I whimper, my eyes wanting to roll back, my body wanting to collapse.

  “You can do better than that.”

  “You feel so fucking good inside of me.”

  “How fuckin’ good?” he demands, slamming into me harder.

  “God, so good.”

  “Say my name.”

  “Mykel.”

  “Now like you fuckin’ mean it.”

  “Mykel,” I scream, not a care in the world. Nobody can hear us out here. It’s just me and him.

  “Fuck,” he barks. “Your pussy is so goddamned tight.”

  Yes.

  Oh, sweet Jesus, yes.

  “More,” I beg.

  “Fuckin’ sweetest little cunt.”

  Oh god.

  Oh my god.

  Yes.

  “I’m going to come,” I tell him, throwing my head back.

  He catches my hair in one of his hands and jerks so he can lean down and press his damned mouth to my neck.

  I can’t hold back.

  I come so hard my knees shake. Mykel slams into me a few more times until he finds his release too, his cock pulsing - I can feel every movement. His mouth remains on my neck, going from hard bites to soft little kisses that make me feel things I don’t want to admit. When he pulls out and steps away, every part of me wishes he’d come back.

  I’m getting feelings for him.

  Strong feelings.

  I’m going to end up hurt, I know it, yet here I am, unable to walk away.

  I turn around slowly once he’s done his jeans up, and I fix my own before looking up at him. He reaches over and runs a thumb over my cheek. “You’re flushed.”

  “Well, that’s what happens when you get fucked like that.”

  He smiles, just a half smile, but it makes my heart swell.

  “Now,” he murmurs, running a hand over his face, “are you going to pay attention?”

  To him?

  In those clothes?

  Looking that good?

  Unlikely.

  “Sure,” I lie.

  “Good, now come and stand over here. It’s important you learn how to do this, Waverly. Gotta know you’re safe when we can’t be there to protect you.”

  Does he have some sort of feelings for me, too?

  I mean, he’s sure acting like he cares more than he used to.

  That has to mean something.

  “Okay,” I say, walking over and picking up the gun from the broken log we had it resting on. “I’m ready.”

  He comes up behind me again, reaching around, and this time I let him without my breath hitching, or my booty pressing into him. I try not to focus on his gorgeous big hands, or the way his biceps feel curled around me. Instead, I focus on the gun. I focus on the way he places my hands on it, the way he shows me how to hold it, how to aim and what not to do.

  I take in every single word.

  “Now, try and shoot the target without too much thought. When you’re shooting in a heated situation, you’re not getting time to line up a target and make a clean shot. You have to think quickly.”

  I nod, and he steps away.

  I take a deep breath, and then I aim and shoot, without thought, just like he said. The bullet misses the target, and my heart sinks.

  If I’m in trouble, I’m going to die, without a doubt.

  I’ll try to shoot someone only to end up being the one who gets shot.

  “It’s okay. Try again.”

  I do. Over and over.

  Eventually, I make the shot. And every time after that, I get a little better.

  “You don’t have to hit anything vital—remember that. You just have to be able to get away. Anyone who has been shot, even if it’s just a graze, will be dazed enough for you to run. That’s all you’re aiming for. Go for the biggest part of the human body, the chest. You’re far more unlikely to miss there.”

  I nod, swallowing.

  Then I practice some more until I’m confident that I could make a shot, albeit a crappy one.

  “I think I’ve got it,” I say, turning to face him.

  He nods. “Yeah, you’ve got it. That gun is yours for now. Keep it with you. Better if you keep it on you because if you have it in your purse, the chances of getting to it when you need it are slim.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him, giving him a grateful smile.

  He steps forward and takes my shoulders in his hands, meeting my eyes. “You don’t hesitate, you hear me? You gotta shoot, then you do it. Your life, above anything, is more important than everything else.”

  My heart swells.

  Maybe, just maybe, he does like me.

  Maybe, just maybe, we might have something building here.

  14

  WAVERLY

  “Thank you
for coming,” Dax says the moment I walk into his large house.

  He’s wearing a suit, looking crisp and clean and professional. It’s a little alarming, seeing him so tidy and calm. It means he’s come up with something, and that can’t be a good thing, because whatever it is, he’s clearly confident about.

  “I was worried about you,” I say, and that’s a big fat fucking lie.

  He looks at me, and I can see that warmth shimmer through his gaze. “You’re a good person, Waverly. You understand me in ways nobody ever has.”

  Believe me, buddy, I don’t.

  “What is going on?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Are you well? You look like you’re tired.”

  Goddammit, he’s skipping past my question. “I’m just really exhausted. My ex has been calling and . . . we’ve been fighting. I took some stuff a few nights ago and it just . . . I feel like I’m weakening . . .”

  I’m a liar—a filthy liar.

  I don’t even know what stuff I am talking about. I just know that he thinks I’ve had a rough past and I need to keep that little act up.

  “You said you weren’t going to keep using,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

  “It’s hard for me. I’m living on friends’ couches and I just . . . I have nothing . . .” I put on the big sob story, letting a tear leak out and roll down my cheek.

  “Come and live with me, Waverly. Come here; let me take care of you. I can give you a good life.”

  Well shit, that took a dramatic turn that I really didn’t see coming. “We’re not . . . we’re not together, Dax.”

  He steps forward. “We can be. I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another human. Let me have you. Come, stay here; we can enjoy our lives.”

  “I don’t . . .” I shy away and look at the ground, because honestly, looking at him right now is making me nervous. Really bloody nervous.

  “Think about it,” he says, his voice a touch harder. “Just think about it.”

  “I will,” I say, to keep the peace. “I really will. But, right now . . . there’s just so much going on here. We need to work it out.”

  “I’ve got a plan. Come, sit down. Let me tell you what’s going on, or better yet, let me show you.”

  Show me?

  God, that doesn’t sound good.