Cael stands beside me and lays his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s find your little wife.”
“We could search the area once again,” I say.
Cael nods and we walk out of the office. The elevator takes us up to the bar. My heart pounds in my chest. We cross the bar and exit it. The cold air brings some clarity to my mind. We step onto the narrow path that descends in a crack of the cliff, and leads us onto the piece of the beach framed by two natural rock arches.
“I’ve never loved anyone,” I say and feel like an idiot. Men shouldn’t talk like pussies. They shouldn’t talk about feelings. “Not like this. I mean the club… it’s the kind of love. But Reagan...” My voice halts.
Cael nods, but says nothing.
“Maybe, I can’t have her because of what I’ve done over the millennia,” I continue.
“Everyone deserves to be loved.”
“Even bad men? Even killers like us?”
“Sometimes love makes good men out of killers.”
We never talk about the Past—such an unspoken rule. Why would we? It was. It’s gone. It’s like a blur. We don’t want the Past in our life or any memories of it.
I don’t want to go back in my mind to before it started to be normal, so I change the topic. “Your homeless fine?”
“I organise charity events twice a month now. With three catholic priests, you know. We want to raise enough money to build three more shelters.”
Right. Every member of the club has a job to do. Cael has always been the most compassionate of us all. He attends a Sunday morning Mass quite regularly and prays a lot.
Michael is an advisor and Vice. A pretty useless job—I mean the advising stuff, but he’s very serious about it. Uriel is a psychologist—he helps abused women. They’re sometimes too grateful, and too emotional, but he likes his job. Raphael is President. He was nominated by us—the rest of us picked straws—very democratically. Mine was for the enforcer’s position. Every boy’s dream. I help the local police and sometimes remove a scumbag from the face of the earth. There’s peace on our turf. The neighbouring clubs have a lot of respect for us so we don’t smash them. The rules are simple. Life is simple. Was until Reagan.
I must be a really bad man because the skies gave me happiness only to take it away from me the next moment. I can’t find my baby girl anywhere. I enter the nymphs’ house and demolish the hall. The boys surround me, throw me into the cell in the basement and keep me in there until I gather my wits. I’m free in what seems like two hours.
“Get some sleep,” Raphael says.
“I’m not tired,” I snap.
“President’s order.”
I nod. “Aye, Prez.”
“And let us help you.”
“Aye, Prez.”
He lays his hand on my shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
I nod. “Thank you, Prez.”
Chapter 7
Gabriel
When I wake up the next morning, Raphael’s words still linger in my head. Everything’s gonna be fine. I hold on to them like my life depends on it.
I go to Rochdale to retrieve my bike. I find it in front of the hotel, all covered in mud. The seat wears the cuts from a knife and the same person must have punctured the tyres. My bike is spelled and only I can ride it, so the thief must have been very frustrated. Sweeping my eyes over the area, I search for Reagan. No trace left. She’s not connected to any particular place so she can’t be a ghost. Maybe I can find her only on a rainy day? It’s sunny today. The wind is blowing with fury and its chilly coldness contradicts the heat coming down from the sun.
I call out to Reagan, but only silence answers me. I move towards the boats and jump onto one of them. The vessel sways as the wind smacks me with no mercy. I sit down at the front with my knees bent and splayed.
I need her so much. She can fill this hollowness in my chest I’ve always had. She can fill it with her giggles and sighs. We’re like two halves of one soul. I’m fucking dying without her.
I thought leaving the Past behind would do me good. It did to a certain extent, but wasn’t the answer to my never-ending yearning for something I couldn’t name until I met my little redhead. My baby girl is the answer to my every need and my every desire. She’s the air in my lungs, the rhythm of my heart. She’s my life.
The boys and I thought we were burned out from helping humans. Now I think we’re lonely as fuck. Burned out but so damn very lonely at the same time.
Life is empty when there’s no loving woman in your bed, I know this now.
A seagull sits on the edge of the boat and looks at me.
“Fuck off,” I growl. “I’m not Cael.”
Cael is connected to the beach—I am connected to the forest. Michael—to the desert, Uriel—to the mountains, Raphael—to the Arctic. Each of us has the space to charge the batteries.
The bird tilts her head and opens her beak as though she’s grinning at me.
“Have you seen a pretty drenched redhead?”
She flaps her wings, rotates her neck, and flies off. It means that she hasn’t. Fuck her.
A memory flashes through my head. Eighteen years ago, I passed a human family while walking along the High Street on one very warm spring afternoon. She was thirty-nine—a beautiful redhead. I saw her beauty even though it was obscured by the years of her chronic illness. The sun’s rays made her look like she was an angel. Her white summer dress shimmered like an iceberg from the Arctic though. He was thirty-seven—a crude big man with a heart of gold. They loved each other so much. They loved their two daughters so much even though the girls suffered from the same chronic illness as their mother. I envied them. Now, I remember. I envied them for the hardship and struggle and love in their fragile human life.
I rise to my feet, jump off the boat, and move towards my bike.
I visit the forest. I visit the mountains. Nothing. Like Reagan has never existed.
***
Six days later.
My eyes slide down the façade of a four-century-old manor, framed by two round towers. The building perches on a hill and a high stone wall encircles it. Three mountain peaks profile in the distance, bathed in a shimmery fog. The sun will die in a few minutes.
I step into the bar that belongs to the Cold Eagles MC, and the smell of tobacco, herbs and magic envelops me. My eyes sweep over the gothic interior—I see arched windows with stained glass. Black velvet curtains adorn them as crystal chandeliers cast rainbows on the black tiles of the floor. Runes run in horizontal and vertical lines on the dark green walls. Sensual music is playing as the members of the club are occupied with their club whores. Lust sizzles in the air, blends with the moans and sighs of the people and creates a dense dark atmosphere. People come here to fuck and forget. To lose themselves.
The president of the Cold Eagles, Seff, rises from his seat, shoving a blonde chick off his lap. He moves closer to us, sweeping his long black hair down his back. The thick strands the colour of midnight reach to his waist.
“Look who’s here,” he says, his voice deep and husky. His black eyes sweep over my face, and he grins. “Fuck me.” He scratches his unshaven chin.
“What?” I growl.
“Haven’t seen that for millennia,” Seff says.
“Is there some fucking inscription on my forehead or what?” I say.
“No, just a very delicate tinge around your aura,” Seff says. “Only the oldest warlocks can see your…condition.” He tilts his head towards Cael. “And the eyes. You seen? Like he’s a drunken Easter bunny.”
Cael looks at me and nods at Seff. A wide grin crosses his face. “You’re right, man.”
“Phoenix looked like this,” Seff says.
“You’re right,” Cael agrees again with morbid excitement.
I ignore them, otherwise I’d have to smash them. A young woman moves closer to us and clings to my arm. She rubs her hip against my thigh.
“Don’t touch him,” Seff says to her, menace co
ating his voice.
She pulls away from me and stands behind Seff. Her blue eyes fill up with tears.
“You want her, Cael?” Seff asks as he smoothes a hand down his black leather jacket. “A little cheetah would do you good.”
The woman tucks two strands of her long blonde hair behind her ears and flashes Cael a flirty smile.
Cael nods several times. “A little cheetah will definitely do me good.”
Seff gestures for us to drop on a corner black couch that’s seated on the platform with four steps. Two floor candelabra stand at either side of it. We sit down, and a half-naked waitress delivers drinks to our table. Her perky tits bounce with each step as her hips sway like she’s a dancer. I’m very not interested. More than that. I’m fucking annoyed when her eyes slide over my face. A stripper starts gyrating around the pole at the opposite end of the bar. Seff’s five boys whistle and howl. They smack their toys’ shiny asses and hoot.
“So, what brings you here?” Seff asks.
Cael’s cheetah climbs into his lap. She buries her face into his neck as her hand dives into his pants.
“Heard of corporeal forest spirits?” I ask.
“No,” Seff says. “They’re just semi-conscious flickers of energy.”
“My wife probably is a forest spirit, and she has a body and a soul,” I say.
“Your wife?” Seff’s eyes gleam with interest. “That’s impossible, Gabriel. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Yes, I’ve never seen anything like that either. Seff is a few millennia old. The guy has gained knowledge and loads of experience over his long life.
We were once enemies—in the Past. He broke a few rules, practicing magic, and killed a few innocents. We fought, and I showed him mercy, so he decided to be more neutral than more dark.
I’ve never been good at studying and since the Past in gone, we’re as everyone else. Seff is a knowledgeable dick and we sometimes ask him for a piece of advice.
“I’m telling you,” I say. “She’s my wife and she’s been missing for two weeks. How the fuck can I find a forest spirit?”
“You can’t,” Seff says. “You have no authority over them.”
I roll my fingers into fists. “Who has?”
“Nobody. They just are, like water, like winds and storms, like freedom.”
“Balance?”
Seff shakes his head. “It just is. You have no control over Balance, you know this.”
The cheetah goes down on Cael as he winds her hair around his fist and his eyes roll back. Seff and I clink glasses and a few drops of alcohol stains his jeans.
“So, you’re married, but you have no wife in your bed?” Seff grins at me and scratches his head.
“Something like that,” I say.
Seff narrows his eyes. “You even fucked her?”
“Sort of.”
“If you find her, bond with her properly. A friendly advice.”
“I will.”
Seff turns to Cael who is now sipping his drink, happiness written on his face. The cheetah is clinging to him, her tiny clawed hand on his unshaven cheek.
“You want more cheetahs?” Seff asks.
Cael’s eyes gleam with excitement. Three cheetahs move closer to us, their naked tits waving like an invitation. Their mottled skin of a light brown colour shines like silk. They snatch up Cael and take him upstairs.
I take a long pull of my vodka.
“Enjoying your retirement?” Seff asks.
“I was,” I say. “Now, I just want to find my wife and be happy.”
“Freedom is beautiful. Even more beautiful when you have a family.”
“You’re right.”
No wars, no battles, no duty. Simple happiness is worth more than my previous life was ever before.
I’m gonna find my wife, buy that fucking little house in the suburbs and live like a human. Reagan will wear those cute 50s dresses with petticoats. She’ll bear my children. She’ll suck my dick off at night. She’ll welcome my dick in her every hole. She’ll smile for me. Love me. Stay with me forever.
“Gabriel.” It’s Reagan’s voice wafting in the air like the kiss of a sea breeze.
I stiffen and a sudden weakness pins me down. Seff squeezes my shoulder with his hand and juts his chin out. I start from my seat and run towards the exit. I see her standing in the doorway, drenched as always. My heart pounds in my chest as emotion strangles my throat.
“Reagan, sweetheart.” My hands shake as I put them on her arms.
Reagan
He kneels down in front of me and wraps his arms around me. I knew he’d find me. I knew he’d tear me out of the fog. Joy fills my chest. I’m his. I belong in his arms.
“Reagan,” he rasps as he kisses my tummy through the wet fabric of my dress.
There’s something about the tone of his voice that causes me to feel sad and helpless.
He rises to his feet and scoops me up into his arms. My drenched dress wets his t-shirt and jeans. Thick droplets splash against the floor.
His eyes lock on mine—so angry, so menacing. So full of relief. Pain squeezes my heart. I can’t breathe. I think I’ve hurt him again. He looks hurt each time he finds me. Each time more and more hurt.
“Gabriel,” a tall man says.
His hair is long and black. His eyes are even blacker. He’s very old, but looks thirty.
“Follow me,” the man says.
Gabriel nods at him and the man guides us across the bar and then along a corridor that’s illuminated by the light emitted from ten torches. The logo on the back of his jacket says The Cold Eagles MC.
“She’s really cold, Seff,” Gabriel says as his voice cracks.
I think Gabriel is worried sick about me. I wrap my arms around his neck to show him that he shouldn’t be. I am often very cold. I got used to it.
“And strange as fuck,” Seff says. “Never seen a freak like her.”
I chuckle as Gabriel kisses my head.
“Always so drenched,” Gabriel says as he draws me closer to him.
“Sorry, Gabriel,” I shriek.
“No,” Gabriel says. “That’s okay. I love your drenched dress. I’m not kidding.”
Seff opens an ornate black door, and we enter a big room. I smell old paper and dust and resins. Fire is dancing in a huge fireplace. The flames whisper to me—they hiss a soothing song. I like them the same way I like the others. They just whisper—they have no feelings—only the memories.
Gabriel puts me on a big bed and pulls my dress over my head. He tosses it onto the wooden floor as Seff wraps a soft grey blanket around me.
“The waitress will deliver food and drinks,” Seff says. “You can stay for as long as you want.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel says.
“I mean it,” Seff says. “She’ll be safe in here. You’ll be more relaxed in here.”
“I’ll stay,” Gabriel says, “for a week or two.”
“You can stay for a year or two,” Seff says. “Or even longer.”
“I’ll stay for a month or two,” Gabriel says.
“You will owe me.” Seff bows his head at us and walks off.
Gabriel curses under his breath, removes his cut and t-shirt and sits in front of me. He pulls me into his lap. My chest is pressed against his. He’s so pleasantly hot, almost burning, a bit like the sun’s rays when I’m standing at the peak of the hill made of logs. His mouth touches my forehead as his facial hair scratches my skin. That is very pleasant too. His lips brush against my cheek then slide down to the corner of my mouth.
I feel like I will lose myself. I’m so happy. So… dizzy.
Gabriel’s mouth covers mine, and his tongue thrusts in. My tummy fills with heat. I need something… something only Gabriel can give me. I need this desperately.
“Reagan, listen to me.” He cups my face in both his hands, his eyes radiating menace, but I’m not scared. Men like him have such eyes. They must have them, otherwise they couldn’t do their j
ob properly. “Reagan, baby, I’ll buy you flowers, I promise. I’ll take you out on a date.” He kisses me. “But now, I’m gonna touch you, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I will touch you more than previously.”
I nod at him. I want him to touch me forever. I want him to bury me in his arms and hold me tight forever. I want him to give me his heat, his passion and love.
He pushes me so I lie down on my back.
“Fold your legs, sweetheart, and spread them,” he says.
I’m embarrassed but I do as I’m told.
I don’t quite understand why I’m sometimes embarrassed while being with Gabriel. I shouldn’t be, but I sometimes am. Gabriel is good to me. That’s not embarrassing. He’s been touching me a lot—that’s not embarrassing. That’s very very pleasant.
Humans are sometimes embarrassed, so this is a good thing, I guess. Gabriel likes humans, so he probably likes their human embarrassment as well.
Gabriel shakes his jeans and boots off and crawls on top of me. A strange impatience radiates from him as though he’s in a hurry. Like he has to do something very important and there’s not much time left. I feel his hard manhood touch my tummy and my core pulses. I’m not embarrassed any more. I want everything he can give me. I want the whole of him.
“I love you so much,” he says, his voice sounding pained.
“I love you too.”
He grips the back of my neck, causing me pain. I feel his manhood throb at my entrance. I’m wet between my thighs. So wet that I can feel a thin stream of my wetness trickle out of me. Gabriel strokes my head. His eyes blaze as though he wants to hurt me.
“Reagan, sweetheart, hold your legs spread.”
He holds his manhood and pushes it inside me. A burning sensation seizes my tummy. My heart jumps up to my throat. Then I’m all agonising pain.
Gabriel
I bury my cock in her little pussy, balls deep, and she jerks her arms up as her body becomes taut with pain. I pin her down with my frame, so she won’t escape from me. Her face sharpens as tears flow from her eyes. Not a single sound comes out of her mouth until she gasps and then cries quietly.
I knew I’d give her pain. She’s so petite.
Gabriel: Salvation Ghosts MC (Defiant Love Saga Book 1) Page 5
