“What happened?” I ask, looking around.
West shakes his head, looking at me. “Still don’t fucking get it. They’re happy your stupid ass is still alive.” I watch his eyes, only seeing the truth.
Reaper walks into the room.
“Good to see you son.” He slaps my back, and all I can do is nod. I’m lost for words.
“Church,” Reaper calls, walking away. The brothers all follow. When my eyes lock on my angel’s, she doesn’t give me the smile I’m used to seeing, instead turning her head away.
I take a step forward to talk to her, when West stands in my way. “A fight for another day, brother. We need to sort out shit first.”
I lift my chin because he’s right, club business always comes first.
We all place our phones and pieces into the box before walking through the oak doors. The room only holds a big oak table and chairs, with brothers past and present all carved into it. I take a seat on Reaper’s right, West on his left.
The room quietens down.
“First thing’s first, good to have you back, son.” Cheers go around again, and I lift my chin.
The gavel goes down. “The Phoenixes have declared war, going after my Harla and now Saint.” He starts, his voice full of rage. The whole room turns deadly, every brother nodding slowly, like rabid animals wanting their taste of blood. My beast growls the loudest, licking its lips as if he can already taste it.
Then that smile pulls at Reaper’s lips, the one he shows the enemy before slitting their throats. “Caston was visiting his girl last night, only she isn't his girl at all.”
My brows pull down as I look across the room, seeing the same confusion in all their eyes. All except for West, who’s grinning.
“Star.” His grin widens. Star is one of our girls from Sweets, and Caston is one of the Phoenix MC's brothers.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” Toke says, and Reaper shakes his head.
“Where is he?” I growl, standing.
Reaper stares right at me, knowing my eyes are darkening. “Waiting for you.”
I leave church, heading straight for the door, when Angel runs straight at me, placing a soft hand on my arm. “Saint?”
I turn to look at her, biting my lip to stop myself from kissing her. “You wanted the real me, baby girl, this is him. You still want him, baby?” I sneer. She swallows, taking a step back from the look in my eyes. “Warned you, sugar.” I lean in, anything but sweet.
She grinds her teeth together and nods, stepping out of my way.
I walk straight to the meat shed. We don't store meat here. This is my place, where I make people pay, make them tell me all their secrets. I walk in to see Caston tied to a chair, the boys already having done a number on him. His face is swollen.
I walk over, kicking his chair. His head snaps up, a sneer on his lips, but his eyes widen when he sees me.
“You’re alive.” I lean in close, grinning as I spin my knife around.
“There’s no killing the devil.”
I turn, punching the wall, and pain radiates up my arm. My knuckles are covered in Caston’s blood and send a smear across the wall. Reaper keeps kicking Caston’s lifeless body. He had sung like a canary. He told us that Fang, President of the Phoenix MC, has a hard on for Harla, that he’s coming after us with everything he has to get her.
West turns and punches Reaper, sending him on his ass. “How the fuck does Fang know about her, when not even your own fucking son did?”
Reaper wipes the blood off his lips. “That’s your only free hit, boy. Next time, I hit back,” he growls, standing up.
I stand between them both. “You sort this out. Us against each other ain’t going help An—Harla.” They both nod, and I run my hands over my shaven head. “Mole.”
Both their eyes widen, but it’s Reaper who nods. “Yeah, it's the only thing that makes sense. But who?” he growls. No one likes to think a brother has turned. When Reaper walks up to me, he tightly holds the back of my neck. “Take her to the cabin.”
I shift my gaze to West, who nods. Turning my attention back to Reaper, I nod.
“I won't let anyone hurt her.” She’s mine. I want to scream it, so that the whole fucking world knows.
Reaper nods, looking older than he ever has, the dark shadows under his eyes the only sign of how much this is getting to him. “Leave tonight. Have some of the brothers follow you to Creek Point.”
11
Harla
We’ve been at this cabin for the past three days. West never got to take me shooting, as soon as Saint was able, I was rushed to this cabin. Things between Saint and I are strained. He doesn’t really talk unless he needs to, and even then, there’s only a few words.
It hurts that he’s treating me as though I hardly exist, and I’m pissed that he’s acting this way. I’m so mad at everyone right now. No one told me what the hell was going on, just that I had to leave. Dad wasn’t even there when I left. Everything I had ever thought about my dad was a lie. He’s not the man I believed him to be. When he came to see Gigi and me, he was different. I realize now that he was putting on a facade. He was showing me what he thought I wanted to see, not the man he truly is. Had he asked, I would have told him that I just wanted my daddy, any way I could have gotten him. The only good thing to come from all of this is West and Callie. Without them, I’d be truly alone.
The rain pelts against the roof and I inwardly groan. I’d been able to sit outside the past few days, to put some space between Saint and me. I walk into the living room and find it empty, the only noise the raindrops. Glancing at the fireplace, I see that it’s been cleaned out and there’s firewood ready to start the fire.
This cabin is cold at night, and the only way it warms is if we have the fire on. It doesn't take me long to get the fire started. It's something I used to do when I lived with Gigi. During the winter months, the fire would be going all day every day.
"I was going to do that," that deep voice sounds from behind me, and I turn to see him staring at me intently.
I shrug. "It didn't take long. Besides, you were busy. I thought I'd help," I tell him as I get to my feet.
"I need to get more wood and some food. I won't be long," he says gruffly.
I walk into the kitchen, not saying a word. The door slams closed and I release a harsh breath. I hate how things have become between us. It's not what I wanted. I never would have gotten that deep with him had I known he'd act this way. Every day gets harder as he pulls a little further away from me. He's out of my reach, and I know that I should walk away and leave things be, but he has this pull. It's as though he's a magnet and I'm being dragged toward him.
Once I've washed my hands, I take a seat on the couch and pick up the book that I've been reading, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. I'm not sure whose book this is, but there's an entire bookcase filled with the old classics. I'm grateful that someone had the idea of stocking the cabin with them. There's nothing else to do here as there's no TV.
I wake with a start, the rain still falling outside. Darkness is setting in. Is Saint back yet?
Glancing at the fire, I see that it's dying. Quickly getting up off the couch, I make my way over to it and add some more firewood. It takes a couple of minutes but the heat blasts from it as it begins to burn. Checking my watch, I see that it's almost six in the evening. I sigh. Has he been gone all day? Then I think back to how things were this morning when he left. I didn't even reply to him. No wonder he hasn’t wanted to come back.
The kitchen’s empty when I walk into it. I head over to the sink and wash my hands, glancing at the door and hoping he'll walk through it at any moment. Opening the fridge, I see there's nothing in there for me to cook. Sighing, I check the cupboards and the pantry. I come across a packet of pasta. That'll do, it's better than nothing. Once the pasta is cooked, I decide to shower while I wait for Saint to return.
Tears fall as soon as the water cascades down my back. I have no id
ea what to do about Saint. I want to talk to him but I'm so angry that I don't want to say anything in case I say something I regret. My eyes close and it's his face I see, when he walked out of church and told me he wasn't a good man. His face contorted with anger, his eyes darker than I had ever seen them before. He believes that he frightened me, that seeing the true him would make me want to run. What he doesn't know is seeing that tiny glimpse into his true self made me want to delve deeper, get to the root of who he truly is. I want him to show me every single piece of him and then I want him to take every piece of me.
It takes a while for the tears to dry up. Once they do, I begin to wash. I try and scrub away the pain and anger I’m feeling but it’s to no avail. The ache in my chest is still there, the feeling of loneliness present more than ever. I switch off the shower and stand there, my hands on the shower wall, and breathe. The rain still pounds against the roof, and I let the noise settle over me, calming me.
The front door bangs and I jump. “Cabrón!” Bastard. Saint’s deep voice is strained.
Jumping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around me and rush into the hall, just in time to see Saint walking into the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” I ask, following him.
“Fine,” he growls, not even glancing at me. He’s holding his hand over the sink, glancing down. I see droplets of blood on the floor leading to the sink.
Frowning, I follow the trail and see a gash on his palm. “Jesus, Saint,” I cry, and grab a clean towel from the drawer. “Here,” I say gently, reaching for his hand.
“It’s fine,” he says tightly, his eyes raking over my body, darkening at the sight of me in only a towel.
I sigh, shaking my head at his stubbornness. “Sit down and let me help.” I glance at him and see he’s about to argue. “Please?”
He clamps his mouth shut and nods slightly.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I direct him to the seat. “I’m going to clean it up and see if it’ll need stitches.”
“It won’t,” he replies gruffly.
I won’t argue with him about that. “Okay, I’ll clean it, then bandage it.” I rush into the bathroom, knowing I saw some bandages here only yesterday. I grab them and make my way back to the kitchen to see that I have Saint’s full attention, his gaze so intense on me that I feel exposed, naked, vulnerable.
I notice that he’s got a bottle of vodka in his hand. Saves me finding it.
“What happened?” I ask as I place the bandages on the countertop and reach for the bottle.
He shrugs as I take his hand. “I was cutting the wood and the axe slipped.” He acts as though it’s nothing, but when I take the towel away, I see how deep he’s cut himself. There’s so much blood.
He hisses through his teeth as I clean his wound with vodka. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, hating that I’m hurting him.
“Angel,” he growls.
Pain erupts in my chest. I had loved that he called me that, but now… now I hate it. It’s a reminder of things I want but can’t have. He’s letting others dictate what he can and can’t do. I quickly finish cleaning his hand and bandage it up. I honestly thought I’d be able to do this.
Maybe everyone is right, maybe I am that naive little girl? I want Saint. I think that I’ve fallen for him. How stupid am I? Once I’m finished bandaging him up, I stand, needing to get some space between us. I peer at him and see that he’s not even looking at me. I walk away.
“Angel.” His voice stops me, my body going rigid as I wait for him to speak. He doesn’t, just stays silent.
Just like a magnet, I can’t deny the pull. Turning around, I stare at him. “What, Saint?”
“What’s crawled up your ass?”
My eyes widen at his words. Is he for real?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had an attitude,” I reply, sugary sweet. I watch as he grits his teeth. “It’s been a long ass week.”
His laughter is mocking. “Well, sugar, get used to it. You’re in the real world now.”
My nose scrunches in disgust. “You’re an asshole.”
“Never claimed differently.”
I shake my head as I take a step toward him, anger coursing through my body. “I’m so fucking sorry that not everyone can be as cool as you. My entire world has been turned upside down in the space of a week.” My breathing is hard as I fight to keep the tears at bay. “I watched my gigi get shot, and I watched her fight to try and keep me safe. Then I was shot. And to make matters worse, I find out that my dad’s not the man I believed him to be.” My laughter is bitter. “In fact, the only person who gives a shit about me is a brother I never knew I even had.” I swallow harshly as my tears well in my eyes. “So I’m sorry that I’ve had a tough week.”
“You think I don’t give a shit about you?” he questions me, his voice darker than it had been.
I stand up straight and look him in the eye. “I know you don’t.”
A furrow forms between his brows. “How did you work that out, Angel?”
“If you cared about me, even the slightest bit, you wouldn’t fuck with my head.” His eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t fuck with my heart.”
This time my words hit him, and he flinches.
I continue, acting as though I didn’t see it. “If you cared about me, you’d do what you wanted to do and fuck what anyone else thought.” I shake my head. “If you gave a shit about me, you’d let me love you,” I whisper as I turn around, no longer wanting to have this conversation.
“You think I want to do this?” he questions, but I keep on walking. “You think I want to act as though I don’t give a shit, that I don’t want to take you in my arms and kiss the fuck out of you, make you breathless? You think I don’t want to fuck you until both of us can’t see straight? You think I’m doing this to hurt you?” Somewhere along his speech, I came to a standstill, every word like a knife to my heart. “You’re wrong, Angel. You’re mine.”
I spin around and face him. He’s not moved.
“Then prove it,” I demand.
Within seconds, his mouth is on mine, his fingers digging into my hips as he kisses me. It’s hot, demanding, consuming. It’s everything I’ve wanted from him. My hands go to his face, pulling him closer toward me, needing more of him, wanting all of him. His hand moves from my hip and tugs at the towel, which opens and falls to the ground, leaving me naked before him.
“Beauty,” he growls. “Every fucking inch is pure beauty.” He captures my lips once again, stealing the breath from me. “Mine,” he growls, his hands moving to my ass.
“Saint,” I whisper, scared that he’ll pull away.
He lifts me, and I instantly wrap my legs around his waist. “You’re mine, Harla,” he tells me again. This time I’m the one to kiss him, and it’s soft, needy and precious. I’m savoring every single moment.
He walks us to the bedroom, not once breaking the kiss. He gently lays me on the bed and before I’m even able to sit up, he’s shed his clothes. I gulp as I take in every single detail of his body, from his muscles to his tattoos, all the way to the small burns on his shoulders. My gaze lowers, and his cock is thick and full. I swallow as I try not to squirm, wanting him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“See something you like?” he questions me with a smirk.
I realize that I’m practically drooling. I watch as he climbs onto the bed, my heart racing as his hands clamp around my ankles. He pulls me down so that my legs are once again wrapped around him, and his mouth captures mine again, his cock nudging at my pussy. I can’t help but grind against it, needing him to fill me in ways I’ve never experienced.
“Please,” I beg.
He doesn’t even hesitate, his fingers kneading my ass as he lifts me ever so slightly. His cock slowly enters me, my hands gripping his neck as I wait for him to break the barrier.
He thrusts into me, and pain explodes inside of me, making me cry out. His hands tighten on my ass as he stills inside of me, letting the pain
subside so that I can get accustomed to him.
“Mi Bello ángel.” My beautiful angel, he whispers to me, and I gasp as he withdraws before thrusting inside of me once again. “This is going to be quick,” he tells me. “Once you recover, I’m going to fuck you all night long.”
My walls tighten around him as he continues to thrust, his movements getting faster and harder. I cling to him as I move against him, grinding as he pushes into me.
Our moans fill the room, and my body begins to climb. It’s only a matter of time before I detonate. “Saint,” I whimper, needing more.
“I got you, Angel.” He pushes me back, my head hitting the mattress, brings my legs to his shoulders and fucks me. He’s deeper this way, and it’s more painful but so good. My moans grow louder as my orgasm builds.
“Saint,” I cry as I come apart.
“Give it to me,” he demands, thrusting into me once more before stilling. His cock swells and he explodes inside of me.
“Te adoro, Mi ángel,” I think I hear him say. Before I can ask, his cell rings. His body goes rigid, and right there, I know that things between us are going to go back to the way they were.
He withdraws from me and grabs his cell. “Yeah?” he answers, walking out of the room.
Tears slowly fall. I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known that this was too good to be true. I rush into the bathroom, not wanting to see him right now. His voice echoes through the cabin.
“About fucking time,” he growls. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Angel, get dressed. We’re heading back,” he tells me, and gone is the sweetness we had.
I switch on the shower, the tears falling thicker and faster as I get in. I sink to the bottom and sob.
12
Saint
We arrive back at the compound, and before I can speak to Harla, she’s out of the truck and heading inside. Her scent is still covering my body. Her whimpers echo around my head. The memories of the way she broke apart in my arms are on a loop, knowing no fucker had ever been there before. Every inch of her belonged to me. The thought makes me want to take her once again.
Saint's Angel: Mc Standalone Page 8
