by Celia Loren
By Celia Loren
A Hearts Collective Production
Copyright © 2014 Hearts Collective
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
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BETRAYING BEAUTY
Sons of Lucifer Motorcycle Club
A Vegas Titans Novel
By Celia Loren
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
Chapter One
Harper
The afternoon sun is a heavy gold, thick like sweet honey where it falls on my skin through gaps between the trunks of the dogwood trees.
The lakeshore is humming around me. I can almost taste the lazy sunlight, the gentle smell of the roasting forest floor, and the clean stone wind from the lake as I run. Zipping and dodging around rocks and bushes, I wave goodbye to other counselors hiking in the opposite direction.
“Have a great year!”
“Till next summer!”
But there won’t be a next summer for me. It was a miracle that I convinced my family to let me go so far away from them in the first place. Just this once I promised. It won’t happen again. For me, this is a real goodbye.
It’s a steady stream; a mass exodus headed towards the waiting carpool for the trains and bus station as we all say goodbye to Camp Adirondack. By the end of the day, Franklin County’s population will be half of what it started with. But I’m headed the opposite direction right now, back into the woods.
My mind is not on the lush scenery or my vanishing coworkers, the ending summer or next life chapter. My mind is ahead of me on the trail, right where it’s been almost since the first moment I arrived at Camp Adirondack and felt the thunder of his presence roll deep into the core of me—my mind is on him. I can almost taste his lips and feel his arms. I can almost dive inside the thought of him and shut out the farewells and lake sounds and impending change.
Almost there, almost safe…
I’m running down the packed earth trail from the Mess Hall, where we’ve just released all the campers to buses and minivans and shuttles. Tekeni Cabin is just a few twists and turns ahead on the small rise of a low hill. I can get there in less than ten minutes if I sprint.
My battered converses make soft thuds as my steps take me around the inlet of St. Regis Lake with the camp’s empty, sun-bleached dock. Pedal boats and kayaks are floating and bumping into each other, sadly abandoned and awaiting the maintenance crew to pack them away. The shoreline is oddly empty; I’m not used to seeing the lake water still and quiet without the bodies of playing kids. There’s no lifeguard on duty. Summer is over.
Suddenly, the staff cabin looms ahead. It’s where the staff members sleep separate from counselors and campers. They’ve tried to keep the maintenance crew isolated, segregated like a secret so that the rest of us might be tempted to think that the food appears and the trash disappears by magic, that the activity centers and recreation stations clean and replace themselves every night. That’s why the maintenance crew is housed in Tekeni, a mile away from everyone else.
Why does everybody always try to hide the way the world works? Why, like we’re embarrassed by the hard work and toil and physical realities of our existence? I came here to see, touch, and feel reality, to get out of the bubble of my life and get to know the people behind the magic curtain. There was no way one single mile between Tekeni Cabin and the ladies’ counselor quarters could stop me.
But even I didn’t really count on getting in this deep.
I’m panting when I reach the steps to the cabin. Nearby the lake is waving and splashing in the breeze, it’s the only sound besides the soft laughter of the men inside. The campground is quiet; only a few stragglers and the maintenance crew are left. Everyone else already said their final goodbyes for the summer, exchanged addresses and phone numbers and well wishes.
Not me. I’m not ready to leave. Yesterday I lied to my brother on the phone about pick-up time and bought myself another four hours. I thought about telling him to come tomorrow, or in a week, but my family already knows that today is officially the end of camp. I dread going back to Nevada, back to the Sinclair family dynasty and all the pressure that goes with it. But it’s inevitable.
There was no fooling them about the dates, but the hour I could fudge. My brother Haden and our private jet’s pilot, Carl, won’t be here to collect me until sundown, and I have to make every second count before I’m ripped away back into the closeted, stiff, stuffy world I came from. I can’t be Harper, the wild messy counselor anymore. It’s back to reality, obligations, and the future my family has chosen for me.
There’s so much to say, and so little time.
Four hours. Four weeks or months or years wouldn’t be enough. A sinking, heavy feeling in my stomach tells me that four lifetimes might not be enough, but I try not to think about that, try not to give in to my mounting anxiety and panic. Four hours until my world is ripped apart. I can’t help but roll my eyes at myself, I sounds so dramatic, but it’s actually just the honest to god truth. I need more time but I know four hours is it, the absolute end. There will be no going forward; no way our paths can cross again.
But I can’t say goodbye, not yet. Maybe not ever.
He’s waiting for me. When I bang through Tekeni Cabin’s screen door, the creaking of the hinges and the wooden frame slamming against the wall startles the other two guys playing poker around their fold-up card table, but Dominic is calm. So calm…how can he be so okay? Doesn’t he know our world is ending?
“Shit, gringa, slow down! You scared me,” teases Jose, dramatically clutching his chest as he fake-falls from his rickety metal chair.
Jose, always the jokester. I can’t help but give him a wobbly grin through my stress. “Sorry,” I manage. “I just…you know, time-crunch.”
From his perch on the bottom bunk, Marcus looks me up and down and throws his cards on the table. I must look as wound-up as I feel, because he gives me an unde
rstanding nod. “Jose,” he grunts, “How about you and me go for a walk?”
A strong hand firmly grips Marcus’ shoulder. “No, man, that’s okay.” It’s him, Dominic, the one I have come for. Those stormy eyes of his flash and twinkle at me and one eyebrow lifts as he gives me a private smirk. “I want to show the young lady something by the lake. You guys can stay here. Let’s go for a walk, Harper.”
At the sound of his voice my heart hammers even harder, my stomach jumps, and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I love the way he wraps his tongue around my name, somehow making it sound soft and mysterious when everyone else says it harsh and fast. Harper…No one has ever said it quite like him. His strong hand is gently gripping my elbow now, steering me back out onto the deck of Tekeni Cabin and into the sun and shade.
“Bye Jose, Marcus!” I call over my shoulder, belatedly realizing I may never see them again. “I’ll miss you!”
But the screen has already slammed shut and Dominic’s fingers have intertwined with mine so naturally, as if our hands were always supposed to be attached like that. He jumps over the last two steps to the ground, tugging me with him, and then we’re sprinting together off the path and down the hillside like a couple of wild deer. A happy laugh escapes his lips and I joyfully follow his steps, our sneakers bouncing off tree roots and sliding over fallen sycamore and maple leaves.
“Where are we going?” I shout as we run.
“You’ll see!”
We’re over the hill now, on the other side. The campground limits are probably behind us somewhere, and we must be into Forest Preserve territory. Subconsciously I register the quiet, the isolation, and the beauty. I even try looking up through the canopy of leaves, amazed by the colors and motion of the branches in the wind.
Then Dominic abruptly stops on a low ridge above St. Regis Lake. I can’t harness my momentum and crash into him, giggling. Our footing teeters and he grabs at me, wrapping a hand around my waist for balance. It doesn’t work and we are tumbling down, laughing and squealing, until we plunge into the water with a chaotic splash. It’s not that deep here, and once my feet find the bottom I can stand.
We resurface, spluttering. “Oh my god,” I laugh. “You dork!” He’s grinning mischievously, and I splash at his face.
“Hey!” He objects, ducking. “You’re the one who tripped me!”
I dodge as he tries to splash me back. “Yeah right,” I laugh. “This is totally what you brought me here for! To try and drown me!”
“Not-uh!” He splashes at me again, biting his lip.
“Ah! Now that you’ve got me soaked, what’s your plan?”
“Hmmm…make you even wetter?”
“Ahh! Dominic!”
He dives at me and I squeal, swimming away, but he’s already grabbed a hold of my waist and resurfaces with me slung over his shoulder. We’re both giggling like idiots as it turns into an awkward wrestling match, my legs swirling through the water and air as I reach to pull his shirt up and over his head. It’s the best strategy I can think of but it only makes him laugh harder before his muscled arms launch me through the air further into the lake. My hold on his shirt aborts my flight and we both end up belly-flopping into the blue. Water goes up my nose because I just can’t stop laughing and this time I resurface sneezing.
“Ack, it itches!” I rub my nose, glancing ruefully at Dominic. He resurfaces looking like a swamp monster, his t-shirt half-off and obscuring his arms and head. All I can see of him is his longish hair sticking out like reeds. Laughing, I swim over to him. “You look lost, little boy. Let me help you.”
My hands brush the bare skin of his chest as I work to roll the wet, sticking shirt off. It finally comes up with a weird sucking sound that makes us laugh even harder, but then our eyes meet and the laughter changes. I’m suddenly pierced, again, by how ridiculously attractive he is, how smooth his skin is, how broad his chest is. White-hot awareness shoots through my body. With a mind of their own, my fingers find their way to his abs and slide up to his shoulders.
His breath catches and he takes a hold of my waist, pulling me closer until I can feel the heat and pressure of his body. Drops of water on his smooth face catch the sunlight, dazzling like diamonds along his cheekbones. His gaze is intense as he reaches up and brushes my sopping hair off my face, letting his hand linger at the nape of my neck. Those eyes, those hunky shoulders—I could just stare at him forever.
“Harper,” his voice low, “You’re way too damn good. What the hell am I going to do without you?”
“Shhh,” I raise a trembling finger to his lips, silencing him, but it’s too late: the rush of hot tears already burning my eyes. I blink fast, refusing to let it out. “Not yet,” I beg. “Let’s not be sad yet. Please.”
His eyes are fierce and full as he stares at me, then kisses my finger. “I swear I really wanted to show you something out here,” he says, obeying my silent plea to change the subject. “But we have to be still. We probably scared them. Wait with me?”
He turns me so we’re both facing out toward the center of the lake and wraps his arms around my waist under the surface of the water. Gentle waves are lapping against my breasts, cooling me through my wet clothes, and I can feel Dominic supporting the back of my body. It’s a moment that I instantly try to freeze in amber, to hold in my memory forever. Even over the scents of summer and lake, I can catch Dominic’s smell: warm, clean, and earthy. The world settles around us and I close my eyes. I want to think of nothing besides Dominic having my back, and the sounds of the lake. I wish that was all there ever was, all there ever would be. I can’t handle the thought of never feeling him pressed against my back again.
No, stop, I scold myself. Don’t be sad yet.
Dominic’s arms around my waist tighten in an excited squeeze. “Look,” he whispers in my ear. “By the reeds. I knew they would come for us.”
Fluttering my eyes open, I scan the expanse of the lake. A little to the east in a wild s-shape is a thick copse of reeds forming a sort of brambly haven that juts from the shore to the middle of the lake. I remember a couple of campers lost their oars and got stuck in it a week ago, and Dominic had gone out with the lifeguard on the speedboat to rescue them. It’s all grey and brown and green, the slender stalks of the water plants blending in to the scenery. But then I notice a flash of white that flutters and disappears behind the plants again, shy. Again, a brief glimpse of a long neck and a wing feather.
“Oh, Dominic,” I whisper. “They’re beautiful.”
It’s two proud swans, huge and graceful. Dominic and I go absolutely still, breathless, and then they must know it’s safe to come out because all at once they burst from the reeds like ballet dancers, spinning and gliding over the rippling surface of the water. They orbit each other like moons, intertwining their necks. They dance alone until a zigzag of fuzzy cygnets, their babies, catches up, bustling and splashing and playing in bliss.
Dominic kisses my temple, and I can feel his breath in my hair. The soft sensation of it reaches to my toes and raises goose bumps all over my body.
“Swans mate for life,” Dominic murmurs. “So do I.”
That’s it. I just can’t handle it. All this time I’ve known him, I’ve been slightly terrified that I’m just a summer fling to him, knowing a stud like Dominic must have girls lined up at home. And now, here he is, telling me it’s more, telling me it’s real. Why now, at the end? I turn and bury my face in his neck and burst into tears. Not even romantic, pretty tears. It’s full-on ugly crying, my body wracking with sobs. I hear the faint sound of beating wings in the background as my emotional outburst scares the swans away. They probably head straight to South America, as far as they can get from me. Fuck, I’d like to get away from myself. Dominic probably would too.
“Whoa, hey,” says Dominic with a chuckle. He tilts my chin so that I have to look up to him, and his expression is soft as he studies my face. “I thought we weren’t going to be sad yet?” Though his v
oice is teasing, his touch is soothing and patient. “But if you changed your mind, can I be sad too? Would that make you feel better, beautiful?”
I sniffle, trying to get it together. How can I respond to that question? The real answer is no. Nothing will make me feel better. I’ve come alive this summer for the first time in my life, and now I have to go back to a colorless, joyless world that never felt like home. I’ve never met anyone like Dominic before and I know I never will again. It’s impossible. There’s no one like him. I don’t know if I can go back to who I was before, but I also don’t know if there’s a way around it. Beyond just camp ending and going back to separate lives, there are so many obstacles between us. How do I explain to him? How can I make him see? I love you, but my family is literally insane and wouldn’t ever understand. I don’t know how to escape them, or their plans for me. I love you, but I don’t know what to do. I love you, but this is probably goodbye forever.
I love you. I’ve never even told him that. My heart is in my mouth, and I can’t seem to put words together. My face twists and crumples as I meet his eyes, trying. This might be my last chance to show him. This might be the only chance.
“Shh,” he whispers. His hands brush scalding tears off my cheek. “I know.” He kisses my forehead. “I know.”
He doesn’t know, but the kiss on my forehead galvanizes me. Electric need jolts through me. I can’t seem to form words, but I can still show him my feelings—I must.
“Dominic…” I wrap my body fiercely around his, latching my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. “Kiss me.”
The water supports me, floating, as I pull his face down to mine. Our lips find each other like magnets, their touch a cataclysm searing through my body like a flame. His lips are surprisingly soft and gentle, the stubble on his chin rough, and I am lost in the texture of him, the dangerous edge and the aching gentleness.
