“It should never have been Chapel beside me, you’re right. It should have been you. It should have been your arms I cried in at night. Your arms that hide me when I can’t do it anymore. It never is. You stand there with your blank face, watching me break, and you do nothing to stop it with your fear of upsetting J.D.”
“You chose Leslie over me. You chose J.D. over me. You chose Aimes over me. You asked me did I ever stop to think of you. Did I ever wonder about what would happen to you? No, I didn’t. I thought no matter what was to happen, you would always be there with me. Always. You proved that all wrong though didn’t you? You proved me wrong each day with your smiles to her, your whispered words to her, and her touching you. What a big funny joke I was for you and J.D.”
“Did J.D. give you a big pat on the back when you finished each time? Atta Boy Law, way to bang a ho! Do you want a round of applause for feeling gross for sticking your dick in her? A big hug reassuring you that it is only for you she screams? She is just as big of a slut as you are, and martyr really isn’t your color. “
He nods his head with each word I shout at him, accepting my rage.
“I’m not stupid. I knew about all those other times. White roses, just because? Right. You really wonder why I run? Why I don’t let you fully in? I’m tired of your running, too. Don’t blame me for doubts that you have caused.”
I want to be angry. I want to scar him with poison tipped words. I want to see him hurt, but I cannot. My pain is too great from our separation. My anger died long ago. It is just empty pain now inside me with the memories of us. We have both scarred each other and been scarred by the other enough as it is.
“You stopped fighting. You walked away. When I needed you the most, you stood right there and watched me fall. Now you want me to just walk right back into your arms after you left me all alone?”
He looks up to me from behind his hands to let me see him. His face is wet from his tears that trace patterns along his dark amber coloring. I have never seen him so broken. It does not bring me the joy I hoped it would hold for me. He has always been so full of life, but now as he hangs with defeat, it speaks more to me than any words he has said.
“It shouldn’t always be a fight. I shouldn’t have to always fight for you. Everything is falling down around us, Helena, but here I am still fighting for you to let me in, but I never left you.” He whispers the words, so weary from the truth of them.
“I am here, every night, right beside you. I watch over you when you sleep. I whisper in your ear with your nightmares telling you that you are safe. Just sleep baby, you are safe.” His voice breaks with the words, and my heart skips in beat with it.
I thought the sound of him at night beside me was a dream. I thought it was nothing more than my own loneliness that conjured the feel of his arms when the demons came to play in my dreams. He was here. Through all my bitter words, and poisoned acts, he was here. My Lighthouse was here to guide me to the dawn.
“Everyday I ask Chapel about you. I ask him to keep you safe when I can’t. I watch you slowly give up on everything, but I am always standing right beside you if you need me. You were burning every bridge, but I never left you. I am still here. Hanging on. Even as you burn me. Even as you cut me. I am still here. Just as I promised you.”
“Then why do I feel so alone, Larance?” The sound of his name on my lips brings him to me instantly. He wraps me in the security blanket I have ached so desperately from with its loss.
His lips tenderly touch mine, and he whispers to me. “Because that is how you want it. It is how you have always wanted it. Let me love you, Helena. Please, love me.”
With his words, I no longer want to throw stones. This fragile glass house of ours cannot handle anymore blasts. Its walls are coated with so much of our mudslinging already that I can barely see the heart of it.
I only want to calm this hurricane we have become. I want to calm the storm that howls around us with so many of these doubts and fears of ours. He refuses to look away from me, and I pray he sees just how much I need him now, even if I cannot say the words. We are both children forgotten. His embraces cannot make up for the ones I was denied so long ago, the missed embraces that laid the first bricks of mine, but I am going to let him try. I am going to let us try.
Our kisses start out gentle and shy. We each wait for the others refusal or rejection. We test each others boundaries until there is none to be found, and finding none, passions are sparked as our bodies remember. The gentle touch of his lips builds into the caress of his tongue, before it penetrates my mouth with his eagerness.
His mouth tastes the flesh of my neck, before it travels lower, exploring the spaces exposed by his fingers with the removal of my clothes. The small buttons of my shirt overcome his desires with their defiance at his hunger driven clumsiness. My fingers, which had been doing their own exploration of his body, take over the act for him. His eyes devour every inch I expose until I lie bare for them.
The pause he takes to visually roam my body inflames me with the need for his touch, flushing my skin with my desires. He smiles a very male smile, expressing his enjoyment of my situation as he traces the curves of my sides with his palms. I arch for him with the feeling of his warm hands on me. He moans a male sound of appreciation with the sight before rewarding me with his mouth again.
Circle upon circle, motion after motion, his mouth and tongue return to their previous task. He licks and samples with different speeds and urgency upon my breasts, my neck, and my shoulders. My leg is wrapped around him, and he cups my thigh, bracing it, allowing our hips to mock with the motions of our future acts.
My arms have been clinging to him, pulling him to me with a refusal for space between us. My hand caresses the back of him, trailing a path to his shoulders and to his neck, before repeating again. My other hand guides the back of his head along the path he is taking with his mouth, providing the clues to the spots of where I want to feel him the most. My voice is a soft combination of moaning and pleading with his hot, wet torture of me.
I am lost in the heights of the sensations he is driving me to when I feel his voice against my neck. “No more running, Helena.” His hot breath whispers along my flesh. “You are either all in, or I am all out.”
My heart races, not from his actions, but from his ultimatum. All this time I have blamed him for pulling away, but it was me who was pushing him away. I was so lost in my failures before, and now worse with their deaths still haunting me, that I have become disgusted with myself. I have encased myself in a prison of bitterness and it has turned my actions, and words, into acid pouring over him and those around me with my self-hatred.
Now my Lawless, my Lighthouse, stands before me waiting for me one more time. He is offering me everything, his heart, his body, and his soul. All I have to do is accept him, completely, and I do. I take what is mine. I take it fully.
Chapter 48
“The tree is bare still.” Aimes is pouting, staring at the evergreen with its defiant height mocking the ceiling of the third floor. “It is all naked and depressing.”
We are lounging in a common area of our making after dinner. Spare furniture from unused teacher’s lounges has been brought up to accommodate the many more people that now mingle with winter’s chill keeping everyone inside. Somehow, our little group remains aloof even as we interact with those around us. The leather vests, still a staple of their wardrobe, turned this corner into ours even with our absence. It has the same effect on those that live here now as it did for those that lived in our town then. If given the chance, I am sure J.D. would paint their grinning skull on the wall above us to finalize their space.
The vest is not the only thing they have reclaimed from our past. The men have fallen back into their ranking system sitting around the table. J.D. sits at the head, silently watching our banter while the rest of them ascend down on either of his sides with their held positio
n. Routines are slowly forming again with the drama simmering around us. If we loot a jukebox, we may just be at Grit again.
“Sweetheart, nothing naked is depressing.” Rhett begins to tug on his shirt with a smile. “Here, let me show you.”
“What is it with you and your hate for keeping your clothes on?” Aimes’ voice may hold disapproval, but her face does not.
I can feel Lawless’ arms tighten around me unconsciously with his doubts still open to me after yesterday. I slide deeper into his embrace, trying to settle him. It is a little thing, but it is enough. My mind still revolts with my efforts to embrace him again. I find myself biting my tongue to keep my words at bay. Baby steps, such tiny, painful baby steps I am taking.
“She is right. If we are going to do this, we need to finish it.” Chapel twirls his Cross ring with his nervousness. The many gems set around the double Cross’ framework catch the overhead lights and glow with the reflections. The center gem sparkles with many different shades as he twists it.
“Seriously, how does this “we” shit keep coming up?” Rhett’s flirtatious nature melts to annoyance.
“Getting weak in your old age, Rhett? You ready to retire that bike?” Lawless taunts him. His words hold mirth, but just like J.D., they also hold so much more. How much has our little Prince learned?
“Anything you can do Brother….” Rhett lets it hang between them with his dangerous smile coloring the words.
“That means you can take your shirt off too.” I relax in Lawless’ arms, bringing him back to me. He kisses the top of my head, but I can feel his tension still making his body ridged. He will not take his eyes off Rhett with the tension now between them from their hidden innuendos.
Rhett breaks his stare first. He cuts his eyes sideways, inhaling his anger with the act. Lawless has won this round, and it shocks me that Rhett caves so easily. I look to J.D. with my questions on my face, but he only gives me those empty, cold eyes, warning me to stay silent. It is more than just Lawless that I have missed with my departure, it seems.
“What does it mean to “retire your bike”?” Aimes apparently missed the whole stare-fest to be restirring the pot so nonchalantly.
“When you can’t ride any longer.” J.D. is the one to answer her, refusing to let the stalemate start again.
“What happens when you can’t ride any longer?” I am afraid the answer to my question may be exactly what I think it is.
“You’re out.” J.D.’s voice holds his normal cord of finality. He is looking to the man across the table from him and fighting to stay disconnected.
Marxx sits at the base of the table avoiding our stares. Paula has warned, with the extent of his injury, he may never fully regain the grip in his hand. The very thing could keep Marxx from ever riding again and regaining his place next to J.D. I wonder, with reality now looming before him, if he thinks it was still worth it.
“If we are going to do it, then we should do it now. There seems to be more of them as of late than before. The darkness will help cover us.” Marxx ignores my stare, but I know he feels it.
“It will help cover them as well.” I know that Siren’s voice. I pull from Lawless’ embrace, replacing my missing bricks with Leslie behind us. He tightens his arms around me, feeling me retreat from him. It does not comfort me, it feels like I am smothering. He lets me go, dropping his arms to his sides and it is my turn to avoid their stares.
“…and?” Lawless asks her. His tone is dangerously flat with her.
“And it is not safe.” She tells him, exasperated with his response.
“Good thing no one invited you.” Lawless signals for me to move so he can stand. The rest of the men at the table stand with his head nod for them. Even J.D. obeys his silent command with a smirk of trouble on his lips.
They file out of our area in a single-file line, still in the formation of rank, and silent with their solidarity. Their body language parts the space before them as they near the other residents. Men nod hellos as they pass, trying to gain their attention with the yearning for acceptance and acknowledgments. The club is back in its power, even in this small community, with the respect and fear they inspire.
Aimes leans into Leslie, as she strolls past her to join our group, and whispers in a mock of a compassionate tone. “Sorry Skankerbell, you must be all out of whore dust.”
I wonder how long I will continue to give this woman power over me with her past, and if I can become like her to give Lawless what he needs for his future. What happens if I can’t?
“It is only a matter of time.” Leslie says to me, now that it is just she and I left, echoing my thoughts.
“…until you catch on that you are not wanted anymore?” I ask her with a bittersweet smile. “But don’t worry, I’ll clap to keep you alive. After all, I do believe you are a skank.”
I give her wide eyes of innocence before turning my back to her. Aimes and I clap, loudly, as we walk through the heavy doors as we shout together. “Clap! Clap if you believe. Clap!”
The men are already preparing to head out into the bitter cold when we catch up to them. They are pulling on the many layers of winter barriers to help reduce the wind chill from the bikes. The sun has not yet fully set, giving the day some warmth, but when it does, the temperature will drop with it. The risk of this run is not just the Risen, but Mother Nature herself.
I do not speak with Lawless as I help him slip into his gear. His eyes survey my face in our silence, waiting for me. He is afraid I will run again. I am afraid I will not.
“Be careful.” I tell him when I finally find my voice. “You won’t have your zombie bait to find them for you this time.”
“I plan on using Chapel.” His lips curve with his joke and I wonder how much of a joke it is after our conversation. “I’m kidding. It is a simple in and out. There is one of those giant super stores back up the road a bit. I doubt the decorating items have been ransacked. Tinsel isn’t high on the survival guides.”
“Nothing is ever simple.” I press my head to his chest before I zip the jacket. The small device makes our parting feel final once I pull it closed.
“Hey,” he pulls my face to his so that I may not only see him, but also see his words, “I’ll be fine. We will be back before you even notice us gone. Don’t worry so much. Keep the bed warm for me?” He asks with teasing hopes, bending his body to look into my eyes.
Pressing my body against his, I kiss his smirking lips, pulling him deeper into his passion. My tongue explores his mouth, savoring the taste of it, before I pull away. His face shows his amusement, and enjoyment, of my boldness. Let him hope.
One last parting touch and he slips from me, leading them into the courtyard. He never looks back to say goodbye. I did not really expect him to. He has switched to a different man now from the one he just was. He is no longer my Lawless. He is theirs.
Chapel pats my back as he walks past me. He is still sheltering me, lending me his strength as my heart races, watching them leave me behind with my many imaginary mental scenarios of the run. I feel Aimes’ hand in mine as the same fears root her to this spot beside me.
The roar of their bikes fills the night with their departure. My warhorse, with Marxx behind her wheel, answers their battle cry with her heavy engine, leading them into their charge. I watch the four grinning skulls fade from my view, feeling my stomach drop when the courtyard gate swings shut behind them.
Sometimes falling in love feels a lot like fear. The heart races with the thought of it. Hands shake with the worry from it. Sometimes, it is even just as life changing when it is upon you.
“I’m going back up. You coming?” Her voice is timid and her eyes are still glued to the last spot they held for us.
“In a minute.” I know that if we both go up together it will be our undoing. Separate, we can force our emotions down, not having to watch them on the face of the
other.
“Yeah. Okay.” She whispers, heading to the stairway. I watch her reflection glance back at the gate with every other step she is taking until she is behind her own closed door.
“So just like that?” Dolph is leaning against the hall with his normal half turn. I meet his eyes in the thick glass mirroring us.
“Just like what?” I watch him run through many emotions on his face as he carefully chooses his next words before looking back to me.
“After all he has done. Just like that?” His southern drawl is tighter than normal. His body more twisted from me, keeping him only half invested in the conversation, but those eyes, his eyes watch me so deeply.
“It isn’t that simple.” I tell his reflection, too scared to face him with his accusations of my weakness and Lawless’ actions.
He nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah.” He tells me. “I guess nothing ever is.”
He returns to me the very words I had just told the man whose loyalty Dolph is questioning. We stare at one another’s reflection, with his words between us, before he pulls himself from the wall. I watch him walk away from me the way Aimes watched the gate. He glances back at me one final time before the heavy metal doors close behind him, leaving me alone with his words still echoing in my mind.
I stand alone in the dark hallway, staring out the window at the one black motorcycle they have left behind. Its handlebars are turned, pointing the front of the bike severely, giving it an almost broken look as it stands alone in the courtyard where so many were once placed beside it. Its headlight is ominously watching me from its side of the glass, trying to whisper to me as snow begins to cover it with a soft white blanket. It slowly begins to fade, with its black frame obscured by the swirling snow, like an apparition dissolving from my view. For reasons unknown, it fills me with dread, sending cold shivers into my soul.
“Please be careful.” I whisper to no one, and yet, to everyone at the same time. All I can do now is wait and pray. I can pray.
The Risen: Dawning Page 32
