Bound Together

by Christine Feehan

  She hadn't turned away from him yet. Not even when he'd told her the worst. "I'm a man who's had things in his life that I never want any other human being to know. Getting raped isn't something men talk about." He lifted her hand, turned it palm up. "Those secrets are here, in your hand."

  She closed her fingers tight. "They're safe with me, Viktor."

  "I know that. I trust you, Blythe. I've always trusted you. You're not just beautiful on the outside, and believe me, you are. Your hair, so wild and untamed in the bedroom and all cool and put together outside of it. Your skin. Legs that go on forever. Your breasts are perfect, and then that ass, can't stop looking when you walk away from me. I love that I can kiss you just by leaning into you, I don't have to crouch down. But that isn't the best, and seriously, honey, that's all fuc-- Great. Perfect."

  "What's the best?"

  He could see that his compliment affected her. She flushed a beautiful rose, her breathing changed, went ragged, breasts rising and falling with every pant, and she pressed her thighs together. He meant every single word.

  "You. Your soul. What's inside you. You shine from the inside out. You're so bright, Blythe. I get close to you and the darkness just recedes. The world I live in slips farther away, and I can see there's hope. You're that hope. Not just for me, but for all of us." He couldn't help pleading his case for the others. They counted on him. He would lose them to the violent world they knew best.

  "You think I can somehow save all of them, don't you?"

  "I know you can. Right now they don't know any other life than what they were forced to do. To be. I didn't know there was something else until you came along. Fuck, Blythe. You don't even know what you did, do you? What you gave to me. A miracle. Learning to laugh, to look forward to every day. I didn't want to sleep at night because I was afraid I'd miss something with you." He'd known all along his time was running out, that once he'd carried out his assignment and killed her stepfather, she might never look at him again.

  She shook her head. "I'm not so different from everyone else."

  "You are. To me you're everything. I know absolutely that I'm overwhelming you. I'm trying not to, but I don't know any other way than to push for what I want. For what we all need. I believe I'm what you need. You take care of everyone around you, but who takes care of you? I do."

  "Not when you're not here." She pushed back the hair spilling out of her ponytail. It was always a little wild at the end of the day, her sleek look gone just for him to see.

  "I'll be here. I don't look at other women, I can support you, I have money . . ."

  "Viktor. Really? Do you think I'm looking for a man to support me? I make my own way."

  "You said that to me before. When I first met you." He moved back and let his gaze drift over her beloved face. "We have to resolve this. What else? What are the things that concern you the most?"

  "Living with these bikers who treat women like slaves, you've learned to tell everyone what to do and expect it to get done. That worries me."

  "I've always told everyone what to do and expected it to be done. Don't you remember?" He watched her face carefully. He saw the small flash of amusement as her memories kicked in.

  She nodded. "You're worse. Do you think that's really going to work with me?"

  "Not all the time, but you're not a woman who sweats the small stuff. You'll do what I ask you to most of the time because it won't matter to you, or you'll see it's for the best. When you disagree, you'll tell me. I trust your judgment, and when I'm not right, you'll let me know and I'll concede immediately. Remember? Think back, Blythe. I was always this way. Pushing. You used to tell me it was both my best and worst trait."

  Blythe covered her face with her hands. She needed time to think. Pushing was his best and worst trait. Why was she so afraid to be with him? She loved him. There wasn't another man she'd ever considered being with.

  "Baby, don't retreat, we're almost there. We're working things out. Tell me what you need. What to do. I'll do it. I'll make it right for you."

  "When you left, I was so devastated. It isn't just about forgiving you for not being here. I understand why. It isn't about not hearing from you. That, I'm still not certain about, but I know something huge went wrong." Her heart pounded so hard she was afraid it might explode. She couldn't let go again. She couldn't trust him again. She had too much to lose. She held herself together with mere threads, so easily snapped.

  "Tell me."

  She took a breath, let it out and looked into his steely eyes. And let go. "If you left again after I let you in, it would totally destroy me. Totally, Viktor. I would never recover. It isn't your family or Darby or any of the other things you expect or need from me. I can handle those things, it's what I do, but you . . . I can't survive losing you twice."

  She saw his face change. He didn't show expression often, mostly when they were alone, but he did now. The love on his face seared right through her. She couldn't take that either, not without feeling the burn of tears. She hadn't had a lot of love in her life until Viktor had come into it. He'd looked at her like that.

  She remembered coming in from work and he'd have dinner ready. There was always laughter and impromptu dancing around the kitchen, sometimes out in the yard in the rain. Always he looked at her as if she was the most important person in the world. He looked at her that way now. Something inside her shifted and she bit down hard on her lip. He was slipping back inside, little by little.

  "Baby." He said it softly.

  She heard the love. Felt it surround her. He could do that. Envelop her in him. Surround her with him. It was frightening how her entire being reacted to him. Body and soul, she was his. She had been from the moment she met him.

  "Was it real?" She whispered the question, afraid of the answer. Afraid he'd say no and she'd be devastated. Afraid he'd say yes and she'd be lost all over again.

  Viktor pulled her into his arms. "Every minute I was with you was the most real I've ever been."

  Blythe heard the ring of sincerity in his voice--the absolute truth--and it was her undoing. There had been far too much to take in. His horrible, horrible life. Him standing in front of her pleading with her, a man who had always stood unbending, never asking for anything from anyone.

  "I'm certain there will be times I'll be angry with you all over again for not being here with me when I needed you most. I won't be able to help that."

  He nodded. "That's understandable, and when it comes up, we can deal with it."

  "Even if I don't speak to you for a day or two?" She made it a challenge, because both of them knew that wasn't Viktor's way.

  He brushed his mouth over the top of her head, one of those gestures that was always her undoing. "We'll talk it out, even if you have to hit me."

  "I might hit you a lot."

  "I'm tough."

  He was. He was so tough, with everyone but her. Her heart pounded because she already knew it was too late for her. She didn't know how they could work through all the problems, but she knew she had to try. Still, she had to hold tight to herself just to keep from falling apart.

  "Why a motorcycle club? That really bothers me. I don't know why. I didn't realize I might be prejudiced, but I think I am. I associate that lifestyle with men and women who have no regard for the law."

  He stared at her a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. Real laughter. Genuine. God. It tore through her, taking her heart. So beautiful to see him do that. To know she gave him that.

  "Babe. Really? Of course we don't have regard for laws. We make our own. You're going to teach us that, remember?"

  She knew he was teasing her, and she melted a little more inside. She remembered that as well, the intimacy of having a man who gently teased her over the hard things.

  "Be serious." Although now she didn't really want him to be. She liked him laughing. She liked him gentle. "I don't like the way the clubs treat women."

  "Do you like the way I treat women?" Now all hint
of laughter was gone. He regarded her steadily. "Do you think because I ride a motorcycle the way I view women would suddenly change?"

  She shook her head. "I guess not. It's just that . . . Why motorcycles?"

  "You're on the open road with the wind in your face and the feeling of the bike beneath you. It's freedom, honey. I don't know how to explain it."

  "Then show me."

  He studied her face as if he couldn't believe what she'd said. "You serious? You'll ride with me?"

  "If that's your world and you want me with you, then I have to see if I like it."

  She knew, by the look on his face, that he recognized the concession. She still hadn't said no to him. She was taking more and more steps toward yes.

  "I have to make one phone call, Blythe, and then we'll go. I need to call the Sword chapter president and let him know I was in a fight today. I have to cover myself at all times."

  She nodded as he stepped away from her and pulled out his cell phone.

  "You can't say a word. Get a jacket. It's cool tonight. We'll make a run along Highway 1, and the wind is coming in off the ocean."

  She nodded but made no movement toward the stairs. She'd go up after she heard what he had to say to his chapter president. Viktor glanced at her, frowned, but didn't stop punching in the number. Clearly he'd expected obedience. She remembered that about him as well. Anything to do with comfort, health or her safety, he wanted and expected cooperation.

  He was in for a surprise. He wasn't going to face Evan alone, not if she was taking him back. There were things she could do, and she wasn't going to listen to him tell her it was too dangerous. If he could be there, she could as well. She knew he'd have a plan. That's what Viktor did. Plan. Right now his plan didn't include her help, but that was going to change.

  "Habit. Yeah. Had some trouble today. Nothing big. Few idiots strutting around town pushing old ladies and kids around, talking tough and calling attention to themselves, gave me an opportunity to get in good around here. Beat the hell out of the idiots and even had the cops eating out of my hand. Managed to collect a lot of information on Deveau and his route. I'm scouting areas now on his beat that we can use for a trap. Bad news, Evan can't use a helicopter to come in. It would draw far too much attention. Everyone would know he's here. He'll have to ride in on a bike, but I should have a good place for a large number to camp without anyone knowing. How many?"

  Blythe studied his face as he talked. He was entirely different. Totally in the role of the biker badass setting up a sheriff to die. Everything about him changed. He looked hard. Scary. He sounded it, even though his voice was low. A small shiver slid down her spine. He wasn't as cold as Reaper, but close. Very close. Too close.

  He suddenly reached out his hand to hers, as if he could guess what she was thinking. She hesitated just enough that he noticed, but his fingers closed around hers and he pulled her beneath his shoulder, locking her against his body, her front to his side. She remembered that as well, the way it made her feel so protected. He seemed to know when she was nervous or scared, especially around her mother, and he always surrounded her with his protection. She'd never felt safer than when she was with him.

  "You're shitting me. What the hell? They were Swords? What the fuck are they doing in Sea Haven drawing attention to themselves? They were breaking things in a store, knocking merchandise over, refusing to pay. That alone would have brought the sheriff. In fact, it did. Fucking idiots."

  Viktor sounded completely disgusted. He played his role so well. As if he didn't know the men he'd fought were part of the very club he'd been riding with. He listened for a moment, erupted into a storm of really disgusting swearing and then listened more.

  "Look, this is a shit assignment for someone like me. I like action, Habit. If you don't trust me to get the job done, then send someone else. I'm not a babysitter. Those fuckers got themselves in trouble and put the entire plan in jeopardy. I can be out of here tonight if Evan has someone else he wants to send."

  He listened again, and she could tell whoever was on the other end of the phone was trying to soothe him.

  "Does he have anyone else here I should be looking after? Because you know, that's what I live to do. Have my thumb up my ass babysitting idiots." Again silence while he listened. "Find out. And tell whoever is in touch with them to make it clear they don't bring attention to themselves. It was like they were trying to blow the entire operation. Either that or Evan's changed his mind and just wants Deveau taken out. I can do that and then blow this crap town."

  He was good, planting that seed. Blythe had to admire him. His chapter president would find out the other Swords were in jail and he'd read the reports. Find out just what they'd done to cause the sheriff to show up.

  For one heart-stopping moment she thought that maybe he was playing her again. But then, she could read his emotions, and right now, he was disgusted. Before, when he'd met her, he'd been genuinely interested. She had a bullshit meter that was nearly always accurate.

  Viktor got off the phone, pocketed it, turned her to the front of him and took her mouth. She expected wild. She got gentle. So gentle. It turned her heart over. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue tangling with hers, the taste of him filling her up. He poured love into her, love mixed with desire so strong it took her breath. It was a potent mixture that nearly brought her to tears.

  He lifted his head, not taking advantage when he could have. She actually chased his mouth, needing more of the taste of him. He brushed his lips across hers several times and then put her gently at his arm's length. "You know we can't go there until you're ready, Blythe, and you aren't ready."

  She felt ready, at least her body did, but he was right; emotionally she wasn't there. She appreciated that Viktor was a strong man. He might try to overpower her with his relentless pursuit, but he also had a code that prevented him from using her own desires against her.

  "You always look at me that way." There was wonder in his voice.

  "Which way?" She could barely breathe straight.

  "Like I'm your knight. For you, honey, I want to be. I want to be that man you see. When I look in the mirror, I see something dark and twisted. When you look at me, I see myself in your eyes and it's something beautiful."

  "Because you are," she said. "No one has your strength. Look at these men and women who follow you. They're strong, and yet they all look to you because they believe in you. They know you're a good man."

  "I'm not that, baby, but I'm trying to be. I want to be."

  Again she heard the absolute sincerity in his voice. He believed what he was saying, and that made her sad. "How can you not see that you're a good man?"

  "It was one thing for me to kill to survive. I had to in order to keep my brothers safe, but I taught the others. It was my plan. I worked it all out. Yes, they're alive, but they don't know any other way of life."

  That weighed on him. "Sorbacov is responsible, Viktor," she pointed out gently. "Not you. Let's go for a ride. I'm tired but not sleepy, and I need to get away from all the emotion. I think you do as well."

  He took her hand instantly and they went up the wide staircase together. When he was anywhere near her, he wanted to touch her. To hold hands. To put his arms around her. To stand with her back to his front and his arms linked around her chest. Or her front to his side with his arm locked tight around her. That had made her feel protected, precious, important, all the things she'd never had as a child.

  They entered the bedroom and she stopped abruptly, surveying the disaster on her bed. It was a big bed. She liked space, and even in her bed, she wanted to know she had room to sprawl out. Right now, her bed looked small. Leather jackets, leather vests and even some ripped denim vests were piled in a heap on her bed.

  She dropped his hand, put both hands on her hips and glared at him. "What. Is. This?" She enunciated each word carefully.

  He grinned at her, looking for a moment like a mischievous boy. The look was so beautiful and fleeting
it stole her heart. She loved the look on him so she kept her sternest face, refusing to give in to the need to laugh.

  "Don't look cute. Tell me what it is."

  "Our colors."

  "You just threw them all over my bed?"

  "Not me." He held up his hands. "I know better than that. You taught me to hang up towels, remember?"

  It had taken her forever to get him to see why one didn't just pitch wet towels in the corner of a room. He didn't mind cooking and he'd actually run the vacuum as if it was some great toy, but laundry was not ever going to be his thing. She'd resigned herself to that and the fact that her man was never going to be Mr. Neat.

  "Not you?" She narrowed her eyes and then stalked to the window. It was wide open. She was certain she'd not only closed it but locked it before she'd left. She stuck her head out and glared at the roof. It was dark out and she couldn't see anyone there, but she knew exactly who was out there. "Reaper. Next time you throw things around in my bedroom I'll be escorting you back inside to clean up the mess."

  Viktor made a choking sound, cutting off his laughter, wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her back inside.

  "Your woman is a little crazy." Reaper's droll voice came from outside.

  Viktor bunched her ponytail in his fist and pulled her head back as he leaned down just enough to capture her mouth with his. There was no resisting him in this mood. She wrapped both arms around his neck, leaned her body into his and kissed him back. She gave him everything, because it was impossible not to, not when it was Viktor.

  When he lifted his head, both hands framed her face. "Thank God you're a little crazy," he whispered. "I'm sorry he made a mess. I'll straighten them out."

  "What are they?" she repeated.

  "Our colors. We can't be caught with them and Evan is paranoid. I wouldn't put it past him to search us, our bikes and gear. We carry our colors. All of us have compartments built into our bikes, ones no one knows about, but it's getting far too dangerous now that we're close to the end of this thing."