So I grab Wendy’s wrist and take her hand off me.
“I have a sick kid in my bed,” I say.
“A sick woman, you mean.”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Wendy steps back as I grab my shopping and turn to face her.
“If you needed an experienced woman to fuck, you know where to find me,” Wendy says.
“Sure,” I say and she lets me out through the front door.
Chapter 7
Axel
I leave the bike among the others that belong to the members of the Shadow Wolves MC and step into the bar as my eyes sweep over the sign above the main entrance, ‘Jilly Jet’. Blaze, my uncle, runs it. The interior has a rustic decor with a few industrial details like the enormous lamps hanging from the ceiling and the metal bar stools. Spray paint adorns the walls and the billiard table stands in the corner of the bar. Streaks of smoke drift in the air and my nostrils fill with the smell of tobacco.
The shopping bag swings in my hand like a fucking reminder that I should be somewhere else now. Fucking hell, Sive has already messed with my head. I am where I should be, right? Among the boys.
I can’t stop thinking that she is shivering of fever now and anger wells up in my chest. She will survive. It’s just a simple cold. It won’t kill her.
Blaze approaches me with his big arms outspread and hugs me, slapping me on the back. His long silver beard scratches my face as he squeezes all the oxygen out of my lungs. Zane straightens beside the billiard table and shoots me a hostile glance. Dash and Gunner rumble their greetings, but a strange feeling pricks me like something is wrong. The boys smirk at me, all of them at once, and Boulder nods at me from his stool, raising his beer. He strokes Lisa’s thigh and she moves away from him abruptly. Ma knocked her two teeth out one day and since then Lisa has been avoiding my father at all cost. He likes playing with her as though her fear of Ma gives him the kind of entertainment.
“Where is your little mermaid?” Gunner asks. His thin and long body waves like he is a fucking Daddy Longlegs. “You prince charming.”
Gunner proposes to every girl who smiles at him, but so far, none has agreed to marry him. I think he will be a bachelor until his death.
“None of your fucking business,” I growl. “We’re having a meeting, aren’t we?”
“If you need a babysitter for her, my lady will help,” Blaze says.
The whole bar erupts into laughter. They are grumbling like a horde of old toads. Mia, the bartender, locks her big blue eyes onto mine as she polishes a glass with a cloth. Sorry, babe, Sive has removed you from my to-fuck list as well. Only she is on my to-fuck list now.
“My lady is organising a barbeque on Saturday,” Blaze says. “Bring your kid so she can play with my kids.”
Another wave of the boys’ guffaws wafts through the air.
Boulder plants his feet on the floor and the bar fills with silence. He is the president, after all. I watch him heading to the metal door, and the rest of the boys follow him to the office.
I go as the last person and notice Boulder waiting for me behind the doorway in the narrow corridor with the photos of the boys hanging on the beige walls. He threads his fingers through his short grey hair.
“Leave those sanitary pads in the corner of the room,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone and the boys guffaw from the office.
I raise my hand and flick my eyes over the bag. Heat bubbles in my chest and rushes to my face. In fact, the pack of sanitary pads is visible through the bag. Boulder pats my shoulder and averts his face to hide a wide grin. We enter the office, take our seats at the oak table and I put the bag in front of my feet.
“Did you speak to Samael?” Boulder asks.
I nod. “The war is close. If Samael clashes with the Cobras, we may find ourselves in the very middle of the war. If Samael decides to have a deal with the Cobras we are fucked up as well. Samael suggested an alliance.”
“He wants to suck us in,” Boulder says with anger. “To take our identity from us. Our independence.”
We are a small MC, based in the middle of nowhere and things have been stable so far. Samael uses us to take on the dirty work from time to time, like storing guns and murder to hire which is mainly my responsibility. For the majority of time, we just carry on with our small town life.
The Cobras are going to destroy that fragile balance Boulder worked out with Samael. We’ll have to pick up the side sooner or later. The Cobras are greedy murderers with no code, no honour, but Samael is a ruthless Mafioso connected with the Russian mobsters.
“That’s what I told him,” I say. “But he offered an agreement.”
“Which is?” Boulder asks.
“His daughter,” I say. “He wants the alliance not fusion.”
“Who is supposed to marry her?” Zane asks with sarcasm.
The office erupts into laughter.
“You, Zane,” I say.
“Samael meant you, I’m sure,” Zane says. “I will take care of Sive, no worries.”
“Fuck off,” I mouth to him.
“You two,” Boulder reprimands us. “The fights only in front of the bar. You know the rules.”
There is a moment of a gloomy silence as Zane and I exchange hostile glances.
“We’ve always been independent,” Blaze says, his voice coated with sadness.
“Aye,” others say with one voice.
“We’ll see how the things progress,” Boulder says. “If it starts sizzling we’ll vote for or against the alliance.”
“Aye,” we say.
“Beer?” Blaze asks and the rumble of the boys’ excitement answers him.
I pick up my bag and rush towards the door.
“Where are you going, you lover-boy?” Blaze asks and I stop in the doorway.
“I have a sick kid at home,” I say.
“A sick kid you are saying,” Blaze says. “Who is going to wear those stockings in your bag then?”
“What are stockings?” Dash asks.
He is only nineteen and he’s the youngest member of our MC. Our little brother.
“You’ll learn when you grow up, Dash,” Boulder says and the toads grumble again.
I sneak out and hurry to my bike. My whole mind pulsates of worry about Sive.
My bike roars as I advance through the town with as much speed as possible and jump a red light. Unpleasant flutter surges through my chest. I don’t like this feeling. It accompanies me when Zane is doing something dangerous or Ma is in a bad mood verging on depression. I had it when my first and only girlfriend broke up with me because of who my father was. Who I was.
I have it now because of that little mermaid in my bed. It’s kind of interesting. And very unpleasant.
I leave the bike in front of the garage and dart to the house, then hurry up the stairs and walk straight into my bedroom.
Sive is fast asleep. She’s lying on her side and snoring lightly.
The comforter covers her only up to her waist and sweat beads her forehead and back. Her cheeks burn with bright red and look a bit shiny. The sight of her makes me freeze in awe for an instant. She looks like an angel who fell down from the heaven.
I kneel beside the bed and toss the bag onto the floor. My eyes trace a line along the curve of her neck, flick over the delicious fullness of her breast topped with a pink areola and fix on the seductive indent of her waist. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, pure and perfect than her. Indeed, I saved a lost angel.
I pull up the comforter and cover her, then go downstairs and call Ma.
She answers with her deep warm voice. “Hi sweetie, everything fine?”
“Hi, Ma. I need to ask you something.”
“Since when are you interested in my opinion on anything?”
“Ma, don’t be annoying. I have a kid here.”
“I heard. Boulder called me ten minutes ago.” She chuckles. “It’s a girl. A real girl is living with you. I thought I wouldn’t live long en
ough to see you with a nice girl. When can I meet her? Maybe—“
“She is sick, Ma. She has a fever.”
“It won’t kill her. Just let her sleep. Did you give her Aspirin or something?”
“A cup of tea with rum and then a shot of vodka.”
Ma bursts into laughter. “She will sleep for two days. Is her body temperature very high?”
“I don’t know.”
“Check it. If she’s very warm, you should cool her with a wet towel.”
“A wet towel. Okay. Anything else?”
“Don’t panic. It’s just a fever.”
“I’m not panicking.”
Ma chuckles. “A wet towel is enough.”
Chapter 8
Sive
Iciness shakes me out of my dream. I’m so cold that I tremble. I can’t open my eyes and I can’t breathe because something heavy and cold is sitting on my chest. It feels as though an enormous icy hand is gripping my whole body and crushing me.
“Sive, calm down,” a male’s husky voice whispers into my ear.
I like that voice. It soothes me and makes me feel safe. My throat is dry and a furious thirst tears its way to my awareness. A thumb glides over my lower lip and my upper body drifts up, supported by somebody’s strong arm.
“Drink some water,” the voice says.
I know that voice but I can’t picture the face. More of the wet coldness invades my body as I sip the water. A few drops trickle down my chin. The thumb wipes my chin, rubs the moisture on my lips, then slides into my mouth so I bite on it.
“Sive, you are so naughty.”
Aren’t I? This thumb in my mouth is naughty. The scorching breath of that mysterious man is naughty as it merges with mine and those hot lips of his are naughty as they touch urgently mine, making the blood in my veins boil. Making my nipples harden. Making my tummy pulsate. I feel a tongue thrusting into my mouth. It opens my mouth wider and tastes me fiercely. I gulp, but this tongue invades me without mercy, strokes mine and sends me into shivers.
Who are you? I can’t open my eyes, but I sense that the man is holding me in his embrace. I can’t breathe, but this is because his mouth is covering mine.
Everything is dense around me, dark, and hot. A thought wavers in my head like a warning. Owen did that to me. He kissed me. I’m scared to death again. It must be Owen. Panic sprouts in my stomach, then goes up to my throat and turns into a cry. The kiss breaks.
“I’m sorry, baby,” the voice whispers into my ear. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I call the only person I decided to trust. I call Axel.
“I’m here, Sive. You are safe. Sleep, my little mermaid.”
Somebody’s knuckles run down my face and along my neck, stopping on my breast. A fingertip circles around my nipple, strokes it, sending a tingle across my skin, but it’s like I feel it and I don’t. Like I’m in a dream; everything is blurry and slow.
“Sleep Sive,” the voice rasps into my ear, a hot breath puffing into my neck. Teeth scratching my earlobe. “Sleep, baby. I will look after you.”
So I sleep.
A sharp noise wrenches me out of my sleep—rasping, hammering, and shouts. Light floods the bedroom through two sash windows, four wide streaks enthralling the dance of dust. Sweat trickles down my temples and a wave of massive hangover hits me like a gust of the wind. I retch and cover my mouth with the back of my hand.
I remember that Axel took the t-shirt off me and changed the bedding. Then everything is like a black oblivion.
He saw me naked. Embarrassment rolls over me. I want to vanish, but before I find out how to do this, I have to face the embarrassing reality. I’m naked, sitting in a man’s bed, and I have nowhere else to go. I can’t afford to be embarrassed, in fact.
My eyes roam over the bedroom. A white wardrobe leans against the red-bricked wall and two metal pillars support the roof. An antique armchair sinks under the layers of female clothes. I think they are for me. The nightdress would be more suitable for a wedding night, but I’m not going to be fussy.
I crawl out of the bed and stagger towards the armchair. A wave of drowsiness hits me hard as my hand clutches the nightdress. I sit down on the wooden floor and wait until my nausea and the blackness in front of my eyes go away. Then I pull the nightdress on and open the box with underwear. The panties are even worse than the nightdress, absolutely indecent.
“Hungry?” It’s Axel’s voice coming from behind me.
I shudder as my chest twists and my glance travels to him. He is standing in the doorway, wearing only his jeans and boots, black grease marking his chest tattoos and his face. The smell of the garage drifts to me.
“How are you feeling, Sive?”
There is a strange disconnection between his dark threatening glance as though he is angry with me and his soothing voice.
I notice more details about his appearance. Scars mark his broad chest, a lot of them, thick and thin, long and short, round and uneven. He looks so massive compared to me, so primal that I feel like a fly surrounded by the Alaskan wilderness.
I correct my panties in a disgraceful sitting position and pull down the edge of the nightdress. I feel like I’m still naked. The front of the nightdress has lacy details and the back does not exist.
“Do you want to go to the bathroom?” Axel asks.
I bob my head at him. He pulls forward, leans over me, hooks me under my arms with his dirty hands and lifts me up like a child. My arms and thighs wrap around him and my chest slides against the grease on his. The unique smell of the garage invades my nostrils. I clutch his shoulders and lean slightly backwards.
“I’m dirty,” Axel says. “And now, you are dirty too.”
He doesn’t move and I wonder why. His palm grips the back of my neck and he looks into my eyes.
“Why did you cry?” he asks in a sharp voice, his eyes burning fiercely.
“I-I ddidn’tt.”
“You don’t remember?”
I shake my head. His face softens and he smirks at me then moves towards the stairs.
“I will check on you every hour,” he says, “there is a lot of work in the garage and I can’t stay with you all the time.”
“O-kay.”
“You can watch TV or stay in bed.”
We stop in front of the bathroom door and he lets me slide down to the floor. The grease covers my body in patches and my skin smells of the garage.
I visit the toilet, fighting my dizziness, and Axel captures me into his arms as soon as I step out of the bathroom. He lays me on the couch, covers me with a blanket, then goes to the kitchen and pours me a glass of orange juice.
“A-xel,” I say as I sit up, drawing the shape of the bag in the air with my hands.
“What do you need, baby?” He hands the glass to me.
“Mmy—“
“Your bag?”
I’m so frustrated with my poor speech that tears well up in my eyes.
“It’s not a problem,” Axel says and lays his palms on my head. “I just need to learn how to sign.” He goes behind the couch and brings me my bag, sitting beside me.
The couch is so dirty that he will have to buy another.
I empty the glass in three sips and place the bag on my lap, digging my hand into the internal zipper pocket. My fingers close around the roll of cash. I take it out and attempt to hand it to Axel.
“I don’t want any money from you,” Axel says. “Stay here for while. You can clean the house from time to time or cook something for me in return. Deal?”
It sounds sensible to me so I nod at him and throw the money into the bag. Axel goes to the kitchen and prepares two slices of toast with jam for me.
“I will go to the garage now,” he says, “and I’ll bring lunch for you in an hour or two.” He leaves his phone on the coffee table. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“I’mm nott dy-ingg.”
He kneels in front of me and put his palms on my outer thig
hs. “You just don’t climb the stairs, okay?”
“O-kay, A-xel.”
“Say my name again.”
“A-xel.” I gasp convulsively and tilt my head, clenching my fists. “A-xel.”
He chuckles, strokes my hair, then backs up and leaves the house. I wolf down the slices of toast and go to the bathroom to have a shower. Then I attempt to clean the couch, but the black stains are stubborn and refuse to go away.
Chapter 9
Axel
I call her after fifteen minutes, but she doesn’t answer the phone.
“I will be back in five minutes,” I shout to Dash.
Gunner straightens from underneath the hood of a car. “You have just checked on her.”
“She isn’t answering the phone,” I growl.
“Maybe she is tired with your constant attention,” Zane says as he manipulates the tyre of a bike.
Blaze tumbles into the garage and waves his big hand at us. Boulder comes right behind him.
“What are you two looking for here?” I ask with anger.
“We want to see her,” Blaze says.
“No fucking way,” I say and rush to the exit.
The noises in the garage fade and I look over my shoulder. The boys follow me in a queue like I’m a hearse and they are the funeral attendants.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I growl and the boys guffaw.
Boulder catches up with me. “Mother will be here later in the afternoon. Clean up the house.”
“It is clean,” I say as we approach the front door of my house.
We enter the house and Sive sits up in the couch, wrapping the blanket up around herself. Her hair is damp and wet footprints mark the way from the bathroom door to the couch.
Sive Page 4
