Devil's Advocate: Vlad (The Bedlam Horde MC Book 1)

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  Dark reaches over to press the back of his hand against my forehead. “Feeling okay, brother?” I slap his hand away.

  “Losing your touch there, brother?” Cutter asks. “Getting harder to talk women into your bed? I mean, you are thirty now. I hear it goes downhill from there.”

  “Shut up, all of you. This isn’t about Nic.”

  “Nick?” Roughneck asks. “Don’t care what you’ve got to do to get off. You be you, brother. I’m just surprised after all these years—”

  “Nic is short for Nicola, asshole. But good to know my brothers are openminded.” This is getting us nowhere. “Listen,” I bark, getting their attention. “Rage is up to something. Bart. Chit. Not a coincidence. Keep your eyes open at all times. Report anything out of the ordinary.”

  “You want surveillance?” Dark asks.

  “Might not be a bad idea. But I don’t want brothers going out alone, yeah?”

  “On it.” Reaper nods. “That it?”

  “I’ll be here,” Sarge informs them. “Guard duty while Greer has to stay.”

  “Another one bites the dust,” Cutter says, laughing.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Sarge responds, and yeah, we’re done.

  “Right. Thanks for showing. I’m calling it.” After a nod to each man, I take off because I have to get back to Nic.

  The other brothers haven’t even walked through the exit doors yet before I’m on my bike. Revving the engine, I hit the road.

  12

  Nicola

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.” I sigh. That’s what happens when you wake up to an empty bed after having your entire world rocked. Vlad’s not in the bathroom. He’s not outside. The bodies are gone, as is his bike.

  He left me. I find a note, at least, sitting on the kitchen table. There wasn’t any emergency. It’s a bullshit note that means nothing. My eyes and nose begin to sting, but I refuse to cry over another man. He left. So what? Greer. I’m falling down on my responsibilities. Pulling off the bed clothes because they’re going to need a good scrub down now, I wait for the reception at the hospital to answer, the phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder.

  When they finally answer I ask to be connected to Greer’s room. It rings once and Sarge answers. “How’s she doing?” I ask. There’s no need to be rude to the man. He’s doing me a favor.

  “She’s resting now, but she’s been awake on and off.” I wish I could talk to her, but he’d tell me if things weren’t looking good.

  “Let her know I called, please.”

  “Sure thing, Nic.”

  I hang up and get to the business of changing the sheets and pillowcases. Then I get to the business of showering that man off me. The comforter goes in the washing machine along with the clothes I was wearing earlier. With nothing else on my plate to get done today, I start dinner for one. It’s been a long time since I’ve made a dinner for one.

  The rumbling of a Harley engine shakes the walls of the cabin from the vibrations. There’s no reason for me to look. I know who it is and I’m not sure I’m interested in talking to him right now.

  “You’re mine.” What a load of crap. Is this how you treat a woman who’s yours? Abandon her at a cabin in the freaking middle of nowhere? All the heavy I laid down for him. Letting him into my world. Not even Blood or Blue know it all. It isn’t theirs to have. But I gave it to him.

  To Vlad.

  Sighing yet again because of that blasted man, I walk over to the chair in the living area and sit, pulling my knees up to my chin. The more I think on things, the stupider I feel for falling for his charms. I haven’t changed one bit.

  This is where I am when the lock unlatches. This is where he finds me when he steps inside, shutting the door and relocking it.

  Only my eyes tip up to take him in. All of him. Every inch of sexy bad-boy biker from the way his jeans hang low around his hips clinging to every inch of skin, in order to remain the lucky pieces of fabric that get to touch him. To that badass black leather cut he wears with an entire biker’s life of patches sewn on. And yet another black T-shirt that would do its best work lying on the floor. Though—not this floor.

  “Nic,” he says stepping closer, but I put my hand up to stop him. His squinting, assessing eyes search me as if looking for some physical ailment. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  I laugh with no humor behind it because it’s either laugh or cry at this point. “First man I’ve trusted after years and you take off.”

  His body goes rigid. “I left you a note,” he says cautiously.

  “Oh yeah, I saw it. ‘Got shit to do. Be back.’” I shift in the seat to rest my bent knees against the arm of the chair, quasi-turning my back to him. “You fucked and ducked. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

  “It’s a saying—yeah. But that’s not what happ—”

  “That shit’s not cool.” I cut him off. “Beautiful women are a dime a dozen? No, good-looking guys are a dime a dozen and apparently, I’m a hoarder.”

  “Nic, stop right there.” He makes another step for me. Maybe it’s a warning. Right now, I don’t give a crap.

  “Stop. You want me to stop—fine. I’m waiting for Blue and Carmen to come pick me up.”

  “What the fuck?’

  “You can have your cabin back. Greer will join me at the Lords’ compound when she gets discharged.”

  I never called Blue or Carmen because I only just now thought of it. It’s a good idea. If the men who worked the safehouse over put eyes on the Lords, since Greer and I haven’t been around, they’ve probably given up by now, believing they’re not a viable source.

  “You’re not going anywhere with Blue or fucking Carmen, we clear?”

  “Oh, right. You’re the only one who can leave.”

  “Nic, you seriously need to stop. Now.”

  And that’s when I’ve had enough. Shooting up from the chair, I stomp toward him, pointing my finger at his face. “Oh, I need to stop? You need to stop all this. It was a bitch move, Vlad. A bitch fucking move. After everything I gave to you, and not just my body, but me.” I turn my finger on myself before turning it back on him. “For god-knows-what reason, I opened up to you about parts of my life that I’ve never shared with another soul, and that was after willingly letting you be the first man in almost four years to take me to bed.”

  “Baby,” he says as his eyes turn sad.

  “Don’t. Don’t ‘baby’ me. I’m not naïve any longer. I know how this works. I’m not expecting a ring out of this arrangement, but I just didn’t expect you to be a fuck boy.”

  The last word hardly leaves my mouth when Vlad charges me. I’m not scared that he’ll hurt me. I’m not actually sure what about the situation scares me, but that doesn’t stop my retreat. He stalks forward, forcing my backward flight until my back slams into the wall, knocking my head, which Vlad cages by placing each of his hands to the drywall beside it. The friction between my body and the papered gypsum causes my tank to catch and slide up. The intensity shining through his dark, shadowed eyes shows I’m in more trouble than his words ever could.

  “First.” He leans way into my space. “I’m no boy. Fuck or otherwise.” He’s so close, his hot breath dances across my lips. His breath smells minty, like toothpaste. He’s as beautiful as he is scary. I suck in my lip, attempting to figure out how to get myself out of this mess when his eyes drop to my lips and narrow. “Second,” he says. “Watch your mouth. I don’t let men talk shit to me, let alone bitches.”

  Bitches, really? “Bring it,” I return, unsure of where this new boldness where he’s concerned comes from. “I’ll end your ass before you can figure out your hand from your dick.”

  But it’s what he says next that totally takes my breath away. “You already ended me.” And without warning, he tilts his head, taking my lips as if they were his to dominate. The pressure he uses to separate them. The way he allows his tongue to explore my mouth, probing it, leaving his mark. All the while my hands stay plastered
flat to the wall. He has to feel the way my rapid heartbeat calls to him.

  He ends the kiss, pressing his nose against my cheek. “Call me a fuck boy again,” he whispers, challenging me.

  Finding my breath, I manage to whisper back, “Fuck boy.”

  A second later, I’m flipped around with my cheek and chest pressed against the wall. My hands now above my head. Vlad drops to his knees while ripping my shorts and panties down my legs. I kick them off and he uses that opportunity to spread my legs wider, tipping my ass out.

  “Yes?” he asks, voice strained.

  “Yes,” I answer, feeling the rough pads of his fingers separating my ass cheeks and then his tongue begins to probe everywhere a tongue can probe, making me writhe against the wall. It’s hot. Sexy hot.

  “Legs wider,” he commands and I do it, happy, excited to bow to his command. He tilts my ass out farther. I’m dripping for him. My body begins vibrating in that familiar, beautiful way.

  First running his fingers through my wet, he clamps down on my clit, sucking hard as he slides one finger into my ass.

  My body shakes violently on the verge of giving me glory. When the second finger joins the first and he opens them like scissors stretching me, I scream out my pleasure, my hips bucking backward, seeking out more of his touch, his mouth. I haven’t come down from my orgasm when I lose both. There’s the sound of a zipper. The tear of a packet and then he fills me. His fingers continue to thrust in my ass as he pounds my sex from behind, his free arm pressed against the wall for leverage.

  I don’t know what to do—how to feel. All I know is that it’s too good. This level of good might possibly be illegal in some countries.

  Sensory overload. My lungs refuse to fill with breath, and they refuse to let it go, either. Through it all, Vlad keeps moving, thrusting. And when this orgasm hits, I die and am reborn in his arms—arms that keep me standing and keep me sane.

  He presses his face to my spine at the base of my neck, pouring everything this moment means to him into his release.

  We both fall to our knees, then he falls to his back, pulling me down with him, his arm going around my shoulder, where I bury my face against his collar and burst into tears. How humiliating. Crying after sex? Who does that?

  Instead of showing mortification, which I totally wouldn’t blame him for showing, he gathers me closer, pulling me up so we’re face to face. “Did I hurt you?”

  I shake my head vigorously. “No. I… I think it’s an adrenaline crash. Vlad… the Impaler.” Then as crazy as it makes me look, I descend into giggles.

  Thankfully, he chuckles along with me.

  “I think I need a T-shirt. ‘Impaled by Vlad’ or ‘I survived Vlad’s impaling.’ Given the number of women who’ve had you, I bet I’d make a killing.”

  “You done?”

  “Not remotely.”

  “I think you are.” And to prove that, he captures my mouth again. In the back of my mind I know where that tongue has been, but in the moment, I can’t get myself to care. I’ll brush my teeth when we’re done.

  Vlad pushes up from the floor, breaking our connection. “Not as young as I used to be. Floor’s killing my back, baby.”

  “Ooh… I got me an old man. A dirty old man at that.” He pulls me up by my hands and on gelatin legs, I walk over to the bed and drop.

  “I’m resting a bit before I eat, then I want you for dessert. Fair warning, unless you tell me to stop, I’m spending the rest of the night showing you all the reasons they call me ‘Vlad.’”

  “It’s a tough job,” I tease.

  “I’m sorry I left,” he says out of left field. “I told you I didn’t kiss until you. Well, you can gather from that, I don’t do emotion—or didn’t do emotion until you, either. Taking you in this bed, giving me all of you, giving me everything. Fuck—I didn’t know how to deal.”

  “Okay. Thank you for that honest answer. I get it.”

  “No, you really don’t. Baby, you scare me to death.”

  I scare him?

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Why? Didn’t you hear me? You gave me everything. Everything includes all the emotions that come along with making love to a woman because you know… you know what we did was more than fucking.”

  Yeah, I know. I so know.

  “Where does that leave us now, then?” I ask. “I know I’m yours, but what does that mean to you? What does that mean for us?”

  “It means I’m packing clothes from the compound to bring up here because I’m not spending another night in any bed but the one you’re in. It means that when Greer gets released, she’s sleeping on the pullout. Three’s a crowd.”

  “The sofa’s a pullout?”

  He laughs. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

  “Clearly, I didn’t.”

  “Well, now you do. But we can laugh about that later because there’re more important matters to discuss. You being mine means, and you’ve got to get this, baby, that other men don’t handle your problems. I protect you from any man, no matter which direction he comes from. Whether from Kentucky, Tennessee, Texas, or Australia, I don’t give a fuck. Your problems are my problems.”

  “Then what do you want from me in return?”

  “You. Talk to me. Cry on my shoulder when you’re pissed. Bust my balls when I’ve been an ass. Fuck me when we’re in the mood. Watch TV or a movie when we’re not—though, don’t expect that to happen for a while.”

  All this heavy and he could still get me to laugh. “I think I can do that. Though you have to be patient with me because this is the realest relationship I’ve ever been in.”

  “We’ll work out the kinks together,” he says while he reaches his hand over to stroke my hair, moving down my neck. His touches are what put me over the edge. We need to move away from the heavy into the light.

  “I’m liking your version of kink. It’s a deal.”

  “Woman.” His eyes flash brazenly with desire. His nostrils flare. “You better think of a safe word and think of it quick.” Grumbling a low roar, he rolls on top of me, pressing his face in my neck, making me shriek with laughter.

  I get the feeling Vlad’s about to take me on one wild ride. It’s my job to hold on tight and let the wind whip through my hair until we reach our destination whenever that might be.

  I guess we’ll see.

  13

  Vlad

  We spend the rest of the night—after I rest and get myself something to eat, then having her for my dessert—wrapped up in each other’s arms, tangled up in each other’s bodies. Showering together. Brushing our teeth. Well, seeing as I don’t have a toothbrush up here, I’m forced to finger brush my mouth out because she asks me to—I did have my mouth in some interesting places. Eventually, we pass out, but only after the sun has already started to rise.

  Fuck Fest?

  Fuck-a-thon?

  Whatever you call it, I spent my evening as a willing participant in the matter of making love and that’s a concept I doubted would happen in my life before this. As she’s the better cook—because I don’t cook at all—she scrapes together simple breakfast burritos for us while I clean up after our copulation extravaganza. Sex is a messy affair. Thankfully, I’m not the typical bachelor. Even though it’s my jizz inside, I don’t want used condoms or greasy packets left lying around or stinking up the wastebasket.

  While we’re enjoying our breakfast, which given the time of day is really more of a brunch meal—complete with large steaming mugs of coffee—my phone rings. “Brother?” I answer, seeing Sarge’s name on the caller ID.

  “What?” Nic asks, but I shoot her the ‘just a minute’ look.

  “Greer’s getting released today,” Sarge says. “But she’s got no insurance. We’ve got to set that right.”

  “Got it,” I answer him back. “Figure something out. Be down in a few.” After he disconnects, I reach my hand out to Nic to lace our fingers together. “They’re letting Greer go today.”

  “Alre
ady?” she asks, her concern is my own concern although it won’t help the situation to admit it. “She almost died on us.” Yeah, I fucking well know.

  “Here’s the problem, she doesn’t have insurance and you know she’s responding well enough to the antibiotics.”

  “How am I supposed to pay for a hospital bill? She can’t fill out paperwork for state insurance. Oh god… Oh god… Oh god…”

  “Nic, calm down, baby. The club has money. I’ll run it by the brothers first, but I’m sure we’ve got enough to cover her stay.”

  “Why would you do that? She’s not your problem.”

  “You’re wrong. She absolutely is because she’s my old lady’s friend and is under Horde protection. That means she’s ours by default and we take care of what’s ours. Now, finish your breakfast and we’ll get going.”

  She does as directed, finishing breakfast, then lets me lead her out to my bike, where she climbs on behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Nic gets the helmet again because her head is so much more important than mine. I enjoy the feel of her cheek pressed against the leather of my cut while her hair whips around us as we ride down the mountain to get to her friend.

  The sun shines brighter this morning, well, afternoon by this point. It’s a warm wind blowing on us, and the farther down the mountain we ride, the warmer it gets. I’ll need to grab my sunglasses from the clubhouse when I pack.

  Jesus, I never knew having a woman ride with me on the back of my bike would mean as much as it does. I’m falling fast and hard for the beauty holding me. The half hour goes too quickly. Before I want to be, we’re almost to Greer and Sarge in Middleboro.

  After parking as close to the sliding glass doors of the hospital entrance as possible without parking in an illegal spot, I rush Nic inside because I don’t want her exposed to any possible assholes like yesterday with Chit, though I’m fully aware that we ran into Chit inside. I use my body to block hers on our walk to the elevator, where I press the button with one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close, as we wait for the doors to open.