Bohdi: King's Descendants MC #6

by Bella Jewel

  “You two know each other?” I ask, confused.

  Bohdi walks up the stairs, staring at Carson, his eyes narrowed. Carson stares back, shaking his head in confusion. “You’re dead. Isla ... she said you had an accident ...”

  “I’m not dead. It’s a long story.”

  “Fuck,” Carson says, his voice strained. “Is this a dream or is it really you?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Fuck.”

  He lunges forward and throws his arms around Bohdi and, to my surprise, Bohdi returns the hug, hanging onto Carson so tightly it’s almost painful to watch. It’s like a brother who hasn’t seen his family in years, or a wife who has had a husband at war. The intensity of their hug shows a relationship that goes back a long while.

  Carson pulls back, and I see him swipe his face with the back of his hand. He’s crying? What the hell is going on?

  I stand, and Bohdi looks to me.

  “How do you know Carson?”

  “We met today, actually,” I say softly. “How do you two know each other?”

  “Bohdi is my best friend,” Carson says, his voice gruff. “We grew up together, surfed together, been through thick and thin together. He’s basically my brother.”

  Oh.

  Oh, boy.

  What are the chances of me meeting Bohdi’s best friend and forming a connection with him? It makes sense now, why I get along with Carson so well. The two of them are so incredibly similar, and they’d have to be to be such good friends. Bohdi is broodier and quieter, sure, but I understand now why I was drawn to this new stranger.

  He reminds me of Bohdi.

  “What are the fuckin’ chances?” Bohdi murmurs. “You two just ran into each other?”

  “Yeah,” Carson laughs. “I knocked poor Merleigh here over, and asked her out for a coffee. She accepted and here we are.”

  Bohdi stares at me, his eyes flashing with something I haven’t seen come from him. Is it jealousy?

  “It’s a small world, I guess,” I say with a sheepish shrug as both eyes turn to me.

  “How do you two know each other?” Carson asks.

  “Merleigh is friends of some people that are in the club I joined. We know each other through that. I’m teaching her to surf.”

  Bohdi’s explanation is so very ... plain. Like we’re just two acquaintances.

  “You’re in a club? What kind of club?” Carson questions.

  “Biker club.”

  Carson’s brows go up. “You’re kidding?”

  “Had to start anew, brother, and those guys took me in. They’re good men, good people, I’ll introduce you to them.”

  Carson purses his lips and then shrugs. “Whatever makes you happy, man. Now sit down, we have a lot to talk about including how the fuck I thought you were dead. That was the hardest news outside of Sean I’ve ever had. I’m in shock, I think.”

  “I’ll get some drinks,” I say.

  The two men sit down and start talking. I go inside and get them some more beers and make myself another vodka. Who is Sean? I make a note to ask Bohdi. The more and more I get to know him, the more and more I realize his life is far more complicated than I could have ever guessed. It’s like with every turn you take into his history, you come up against a brand new truth that stuns you.

  I take the drinks out and we all talk until the very early hours of the morning. By the time Carson leaves, I’m drunk. I don’t think I’ve been this drunk since I was young and on drugs. The feeling causes me some stress, because the idea of losing control of myself has always bothered me.

  “I still can’t believe you two know each other,” I say to Bohdi once Carson has left.

  “Small world,” he murmurs, turning to me. “Are the two of you going to date?”

  I blink, swaying a little. “What?”

  “You seemed pretty cozy when I arrived.”

  “He’s a nice guy. That’s it, Bohdi. But even if I did decide to date, you can’t really be angry at me.”

  Also, I forgot how alcohol makes me far more likely to say what I’m thinking, another thing I don’t really enjoy.

  “Are you tryin’ to hurt me?”

  I blink, shaking my head. “You’re kidding, right? If anyone is hurting anyone, it’s you hurting me.”

  “I’ve been honest with you, Merleigh.”

  “Have you, though? Have you?”

  “Yeah, I fuckin’ have.”

  “Then why can’t you give me a straight answer about Isla? Why can’t you just tell me the truth when it comes to her instead of dancing around it every time we talk?”

  Bohdi looks shocked at my outburst. To be fair, I’m shocking myself. Alcohol is giving me the kind of courage I really don’t need, but I can’t stop myself. I’m frustrated and maybe I’ve just had enough of feeling like that.

  “I have given you an answer, it’s just an answer you don’t like. Is this your way of punishing me?”

  I laugh bitterly. “You mean by meeting a random stranger and being his friend?”

  Bohdi’s jaw ticks.

  “I told you what I wanted, Bohdi. You chose not to give it to me, or even give me a damned answer. You have no right to come in here and act like I matter, no right.”

  I spin on my heel and go to storm off, but his hand lashes out and catches my arm, spinning me around so hard I slam into his body. With a feral growl, he tells me, “You have always fuckin’ mattered.”

  Then his mouth is on mine.

  I’ve thought about this kiss so many times—god, so many. Nothing could have ever prepared me for just how good it would feel. His mouth is rough, and yet incredibly careful. He tastes incredible, and he kisses like a man starved of love. His hand tangles into my hair, his mouth devours mine, and I can’t hold back anymore.

  I kiss him back with a ferocity I didn’t know I had in me.

  I whimper against his mouth when his hand slides down my back, so carefully, so sexually.

  I want him.

  I’m also terrified.

  So when he backs me into the cabin, I let him.

  When he lays me down on the sofa, I let him.

  When his mouth trails over my body, I let him.

  When he removes my pants, I let him.

  It’s when his fingers trail dangerously close to a part of my body that nobody has ever touched with love or affection, that the memories flash back. They’re memories I wish would stay away, I had hoped would stay away because up until this point, they had.

  But they’re here.

  Flooding back in.

  Horror.

  “Please,” I whimper. “Please don’t, I’m begging you.”

  “Be quiet, girl,” he snarls. “You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to do. I didn’t pay for nothing.”

  I’ve tried fighting, tried kicking, tried screaming.

  “Please,” I beg again, as if it’ll make any difference.

  I’m tied, pinned down and unable to move. My legs are spread wide open and this sick man is preparing to do awful things to me, a smile on his face that makes my stomach turn.

  Why would this be okay?

  Why is this okay?

  “If you don’t shut up, you’re not going to like what I do to you. Consider yourself warned.”

  “I’m begging you. I’m a good person, I’ve never done anything wrong, I don’t deserve this, please don’t do this to me.”

  “I warned you,” he growls, lifting a beer bottle and walking toward me. “Now, you’re going to do more than plead, you’re going to scream.”

  I don’t realize I’m shoving Bohdi.

  I don’t realize I’m screaming.

  Not until his body is off mine and I’m scrambling off the couch and running toward the bathroom, tears rolling down my cheeks, hands shaking.

  I slam and lock the door before falling to the ground.

  I sob, angrily, full of so much hurt and pain.

  I’m never going to be able to enjoy this.

  I
’m never going to feel okay.

  I’m broken.

  I’m so incredibly broken.

  I clutch my lower stomach as the memories keep tormenting my brain, swimming around over and over, refusing to leave.

  God, I wish someone would make them leave.

  “Merleigh.”

  Bohdi’s voice trails through the door as he knocks quietly.

  I don’t answer, I just sob.

  “I’m here,” he says, and I hear shuffling and a thump as he sits down on the outside of the door. “I’m not leaving. I won’t leave you.”

  Those words bring me a little relief and also a wave of sobs that wrack my body.

  Bohdi sits on the other side of that door, silently, until the sobs subside. I know he’s there, I just know he’s still there. Finally, when I calm down enough to lift myself off the floor and press my back to the door, I speak.

  The words come out, they just come out.

  I’m so tired of keeping them inside.

  “I can’t have children,” I say, my voice scratchy.

  Bohdi shifts on the other side of the door, and I know he’s still there.

  Still with me.

  Always with me.

  “I got raped with ... a bottle. The man was a monster, a cruel and sadistic monster. The more I begged him to stop, the more he hurt me ...”

  My voice hitches.

  “The bottle broke ... He didn’t stop. He kept going, even through my agonized screams. It was the huge amounts of blood that eventually made him stop. He disappeared out of there and I was left to bleed to death. Only, I didn’t. Cova found me and she called an ambulance. I was taken to the hospital, under the strict eye of Bryant. He made sure I told them I was raped by a stranger. They believed him. I was so messed up I had to go right into surgery, and because of the damage, they sterilized me.”

  Bohdi makes a sound on the other side of the door, a sound that breaks my heart.

  “He took so much from me, but my ability to have children, to have a family, to bring something into this world after all the pain ... that is gone. It’s gone. I’ll never have a family ...”

  I take a staggering breath, clutching my chest.

  “When you touched me, those memories came flooding back. All of the horror I experienced, it was right there again. I’m broken, Bohdi. I’ve never been touched by a man with a kind hand, and I’m terrified I’m always going to hate it, always going to wish it away. I’m ... just so broken.”

  “Open the door, Merleigh.”

  Bohdi’s voice is strained, but I hear him stand on the other side. I reach up and open the door, shifting just enough so that he can get in.

  He steps around, looking down at me on the floor, with my tear-streaked face and my broken soul, and he leans down and lifts me into his arms. He carries me to my bedroom, and when we’re there, he gently places me on one side of the bed. My head hits the pillow, and I feel a moment of comfort. He sits next to me, looking down, our bodies so close.

  He moves a strand of tear-soaked hair from my eyes.

  “You’ll become a mother. He might have taken your ability to have your own children, but you’ll be a mother, Merleigh. You’ll be a mother to a child who has nothing, who is born into this world without a love that you have so much of. That’s how you’ll be. That’s who you’ll be. You’ll be the woman who fills that baby with so much love it’ll never remember a day it lived without it.”

  Oh, god.

  Tears burst forth again.

  “And you’re not broken. You have lived through things nobody in this world should ever have to fuckin’ live through. But you’re not broken. You just need time. You just need understand. I’m goin’ to give that to you, because I’d never hurt you, and I’d never take something you didn’t want. Not fuckin’ ever.”

  The tears get heavier and I croak. “Will you stay with me, Bohdi?”

  He doesn’t answer, he simply stands, shrugs his jacket off, kicks his boots off, and climbs into to bed beside me.

  Then he carefully pulls me into his arms.

  And his fingers stroke over my skin in the gentlest way.

  And he shows me that he’s going to teach me how it feels to be touched with love.

  Bohdi ... is going to save me.

  I WAKE IN THE MORNING to the smell of coffee.

  It takes me a moment to realize I’m wrapped around a very warm, very gorgeous man who held onto me all night and gave me the safest night sleep I’ve ever had.

  Then I realize if he’s in here, who the hell is making coffee?

  I sit upright. Bohdi rolls, still asleep.

  I get out of bed quickly, pulling on a robe, and I rush out of my room and into the kitchen where I’m met with four familiar faces.

  Waverly, Mykel, Zariah and Kendric.

  They’re sitting at my table, the two men drinking coffee, Waverly in the kitchen making more, Zariah whisking some eggs.

  “Ah, hi,” I say, waving awkwardly.

  “Oh, you’re awake!” Waverly smiles. “I didn’t want to barge in here and freak you out, but we’re taking you on a ride today so we wanted to make sure you had a good breakfast. I hope you don’t mind. And, honey, you shouldn’t leave the front door unlocked. You could get murdered or something ...”

  “I think she’s safe,” Zariah says, her eyes twinkling as she looks past me.

  Waverly’s eyes find what is, no doubt, Bohdi standing behind me.

  “Oh,” Waverly says, her grin getting so big I flush. “I see.”

  “It’s not ... We didn’t ...”

  God, I’m making a fool of myself.

  Bohdi steps up beside me, leans down, and presses a kiss to my temple. My knees go weak when his scratchy morning voice says, “Mornin’.”

  He walks over to the table, and I stand there, cheeks burning, Waverly and Zariah doing little dances in the kitchen as they watch it all unfold. Bohdi joins the guys at the table, and Mykel slaps him on the back.

  Oh, god.

  This is awkward.

  I rush into the kitchen, pouring myself a coffee. Waverly comes barreling over, and leans in close. “So ... did you ...”

  “No,” I say, whispering. “I had a freaking breakdown when we tried, but ... he was incredible. He stayed with me all night and ... god, I’m so in love with him. It’s pathetic.”

  Waverly’s face softens. “It is not pathetic, don’t ever call your feelings pathetic. But mostly, are you okay?”

  I nod. “I am, it helped. Talking to him, it helped.”

  “Well, he’s the glue for you, honey. I am glad you’re both finally seeing that.”

  I give her a weak smile and glance at Bohdi, who is listening as the two guys talk to him.

  He’s perfect.

  And I am so in love with him.

  A love I didn’t think was possible in this life of mine.

  “You said we’re going for a ride?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we have some business to take care of,” Kendric tells me. “So, we came to get you two because Waverly thought it would be a good idea for you to have some fun.”

  “On a bike?” I squeak.

  Kendric chuckles. “Yeah, on a bike.”

  “Okay, but ... I don’t really ... What about Isla?” I say, aiming my question toward Bohdi, assuming I’m going to be riding with him.

  Is that the correct assumption?

  I hesitate.

  “I’ll deal with Isla, she isn’t your problem. Your only problem, right now, is figuring out what to wear.”

  I blink. “What do I wear?”

  “Somethin’ really sexy,” Mykel winks and Waverly thumps him.

  “First,” Zariah says, carrying a plate of freshly scrambled eggs and toast out. “Breakfast.”

  We eat breakfast, which is absolutely delicious, and then I get changed into a pair of jeans, a light sweater, and some joggers. Apparently, Alarick and the rest of the guys are going to meet us here with Bohdi’s bike on the back of the truck s
o he doesn’t have to go back and get it.

  They arrive only ten minutes later, and once Bohdi’s bike is off the truck, he climbs on and starts it up. Briella, who was driving the truck, gets out and puts the keys inside, before giving me a hug and climbing onto the back of Alarick’s bike. Seeing them like this, so powerful and dominating, I can understand why people give them a wide berth.

  On their bikes, covered in leather, they’re a force to be reckoned with.

  “You goin’ to get on or are you goin’ to think about it some more?” Bohdi says lightly, and my head swivels around to him. He’s holding out a helmet.

  “I’m a bit nervous,” I admit.

  “Got nothin’ to be nervous about when you’re with me. You’ll love it.”

  I swallow, pull the helmet on and get on the back of the bike.

  I squeal as we take off.

  But he’s right —the second the wind is trailing past me, the rumbling is filling my ears, and the speed is making my heart race—I do love it.

  Oh, boy, do I love it.

  16

  THEN – BOHDI

  “What’re you doin’ here, Sherry? I’ve told you you’re not welcome around here,” I say, standing at the door and staring at Sherry who has been calling me over and over, pounding on the door to let her in for the last ten minutes.

  I tried to ignore her but, eventually, she was going to wake Sunny, and I couldn’t risk that.

  “I just need you to hear me out, Bohdi.”

  “What’s there to hear out? You’re harassing me. I know you’ve got shit goin’ on, and I’m trying to be sympathetic, but you’re causing me to become pretty pissed off.”

  “I’m not harassing you!” she cries, her eyes red. “I’m trying to tell you something, and you’re refusing to listen.”

  “You want to tell me that your husband is fucking my wife, but there is zero proof of that. I haven’t seen her anywhere near him, or him anywhere near her. Not to mention, she’s heavily pregnant. How the hell do you think she’s got time to go over there and do that?”

  “She’s doing it! I’m telling you. The two of them meet up, I don’t know where, but she is always going out, right?”

  I mean, yeah. She does. But she always has. That’s just Isla. She’s restless and can never sit still. Outside of the months she laid in bed when we lost our daughter, she basically hasn’t stopped.