by Violet Blaze
I keep my eyes shut tight and feel the trembling in my muscles, the uncoiling of that snake inside my chest. This work of mine, this dark bloody brutal work, it requires a certain sense of detachment. But right now, all I feel is attached. To Serenity. Now that feeling is starting to creep back into these frostbitten lungs, I need some sort of release—and Serenity, she is that release.
I need her. Soon. Now.
My eyes snap open and I head over to my bike, jamming the helmet on my head, kick-starting the engine. The monster is awake and wild, and he needs to be soothed.
My bike tears down the road, through town and out the other side, heading to the compound next to the sea, a place that's convenient enough for us to get legitimate business but far out enough that things can happen after dark that nobody needs know about.
Right now, it's a late Monday afternoon and all our legal business are closed for the night. I pause at the entrance to the compound and wave my hand, waiting for whatever unlucky prospect is stuck in the guardhouse to open the damn gate for me. By now, I'm seething, cold, dark and desperate. Emotions that I would normally shove down, trap beneath the thick layer of ice in my soul, are bubbling up and pouring over, trying to consume me.
I park outside the café and toss my helmet into a decorative planter box, storming around the brick half wall and up the steps to the glass doors. Inside, I can see Serenity laughing with her friends, a messy stack of books on the table in front of her. Her hair is glossy and shiny, the blonde bright and the red streak vibrant. She's wearing another of one those tiny short skirts which is good because I don't have a lot of time to deal with clothing getting in my way.
My hand shoves the glass door out of the way with a jingle of bells, snapping Serenity's attention over to me and killing the conversation in the room.
“Oh, hey Saint,” one of her friends says, which must mean I did a good job the other day of impressing them, making them think I was something akin to normal. I realize absently that I should probably be doing the same today, making them think I'm harmless and silly with a sense of humor and an open, amiable personality.
But it's all bullshit, and I think Serenity can tell from the expression on my face that I don't have even a drop of that in me today.
“Hello Saint,” she says, very carefully not calling me Glacier. She has good instincts, this girl.
I think I'm panting when I drop the door closed behind me and take a few slow steps inside, my boots loud against the wood floors.
“Serenity,” I say, and my voice is nothing but cold hell, frost and ice, like a blizzard, like a glacier, spreading out and turning the water molecules in the air to snowflakes. “Bathroom.” The word snaps out on the end of my tongue. “Now. I need you.” I take another step forward and Serenity blinks her blue eyes at me, her mouth tightening in understanding, her chin nodding in acquiescence.
She turns and retreats into the bathroom with me on her heels, shoving the door out of my way and turning to flick the lock. There is none. But I can't help that right now.
“Saint,” she says softly, but I step forward and grab her hips, spinning her around and shoving her over one of the white porcelain sinks. Serenity makes a small sound of surprise, but her hands grip the edges, nails curving tight and holding on for dear life.
“You remember your word?” I ask and she nods her head slowly as I unbutton my jeans, shove the denim just far enough down my hips to free my cock. This is going to be sex, sure, but it's so much more than that. This isn't just about joining my body to Serenity's, this is about reaffirming the connection between us, giving the beast inside of me a place to rest.
In the future, when I'm done with my work, I need to be able to get to her—and fast.
My fingers sneak under her purple skirt, push her matching purple underwear to the side, and then I'm thrusting my cock inside her heat, rough and desperate, gasping at the soothing wash of warmth that spreads through me.
Serenity stifles a moan against her own arm, burying her face in the crook of her elbow as I move inside of her, reaching out and taking hold of her hair. I yank her face up and back, until I can see her expression in the mirror.
“It's okay, Saint.” That's what she tells me, when I'm fucking her like this. It's her comforting me. I groan and curl the fingers of my right hand around her hip, holding her in place as I mount her hard and quick, greedy and desperate. My teeth grit tight and when I look up, I see my blue eyes dark and stormy reflected back at me from the mirror.
Jesus.
I fuck harder, gripping her hair in iron fingers, slamming her body against the sink and loving the glossy purple matte spread of her lips in the reflection. They're pale and smooth and I want my mouth all fucking over them. But I can't stop. I can't. Not yet.
Sweat drips down my back, sticks the fabric of the Alpha Wolves tank I'm wearing to my skin, my belt buckle jingling with each thrust.
I know long before the door even opens that someone's coming—and I don't stop.
When it slams into the wall and somebody steps inside, I see that it's that kid—Loren. The one Serenity was kissing in the alley.
“Jesus Christ!” he yells, as my body takes over and I pump a few last times, finishing with a long, low release of tension. “Get the fuck off of her!”
My cock is out and tucked back into my jeans before Loren even gets to me. I catch one arm, twist it around to his back and slam his face into the tiled bathroom wall. He grunts in pain, but I could've done it a lot harder. Hell, I could've broken every bone in his face.
“Saint, let go of him,” Serenity snaps and I step back, feeling her fingers curl around the sweaty bare skin of my left arm. My gaze is cold and expressionless as Loren turns around and looks at us both with wide, brown eyes and a gaping mouth. Inside, though, I feel that gentle warmth flicker through me.
Serenity. She has my leash right now. And I like that. I want her to control me, command me. I am her monster to use as she pleases.
“Please go, Loren,” she says, her voice panting and thready, thin and hoarse. “He … you don't want to piss him off.”
“He was raping you!” Loren yells, but I don't do anything, letting Serenity step forward and clamp her hand across his mouth.
“Keep your voice down,” she snaps as she shoves him into the wall again. “And don't say things you don't know shit about. He was not raping me.”
“What the fuck was all that about then?” Loren breathes as Serenity releases him and steps back, raking her fingers through her hair and spinning in a frantic circle on the heel of her black riding boot. “What the … what the fuck?” Loren is shaking, but I can't imagine why. My eyes slide over to Serenity and I reach into my cut pocket to grab a piece of gum, shoving it into my mouth and chewing it while Loren stares at me in abject horror. It's an expression I'm well used to.
“He … God, I can't explain it, Loren. I know what it probably looks like—”
He cuts her off.
“If it walks like a duck …” he starts and then flinches when I slide my fingers into the front pockets of my jeans, the leather of my cut rustling with the movement. “Isn't he like twenty-five or something?”
“Loren,” Serenity starts but this kid is already shaking his head, putting his palms against his temples. He's in love with her, this boy. Too bad for him. It's too late now. Serenity and I, we're entwined forever. If she leaves me … well, let's just say you wouldn't want to see my unleashed monster descend on the world like that, not now that his shield of ice is melting away into nothing. Before, I was a contained little monster. Focused. Now … mmm. Serenity says she knows what she's doing here … “Look, I know what you're thinking, but it isn't like that.”
“What are you? His sex doll or something?”
I stiffen at that, my eyes locking down on his. The kid looks like he's about to piss himself.
“It's not … no,” she says, getting angrier by the second. She shoves her hands into the front pocket of her sleeveless
hoodie. “It's not about sex—”
“Then what the shit was that?!” Loren screams, throwing his hand out to indicate me. “Some old guy storms into the café and says he needs you. Needs you? Like, what the fuck? I thought you were against the club's gender inequality bullshit. I thought you were a feminist—”
“I'm a feminist,” I say mildly, but that doesn't seem to help. Loren's in a violent rage of his own. Must be hard, to see the girl you're in love with getting fucked like that. I can't even imagine. No, really, I can't imagine it at all. Still, I somehow feel like I should explain to this kid that this isn't about me being a man or Serenity being a woman. Her gender is particularly irrelevant to me. I just … want her. She's my one thing, my only thing. My reason for being alive. I've finally found my purpose.
“Loren, you need to calm the hell down,” Serenity says, but her friend isn't even remotely listening.
“All these years, telling me you want nothing to do with the club, and now you're just … what, on call for his fucking urges? I thought you hated that shit!”
“I do hate that shit,” Serenity yells back at him, their voices echoing sharply in the sterile little bleach soaked room. “I do. Any other guy, any other circumstance … I would tell him to shove his dick in a blender. You don't understand Glacier; nobody does.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Loren spits, looking at me like I'm dog shit on the bottom of his sneakers. His face though, that's a broken, shattered mess. He looks almost as bad as one of the visitors to my dungeon. “Sure thing. I bet that's what all the old ladies say about their old men, huh? Have a nice life.”
“Loren!” Serenity shouts as he shoves his way out of the bathroom door and disappears. When I look down at her, I can see tears streaming across her cheeks. I step over to her and pull her into the circle of my arms, banding her in tight, wondering if I really should follow after Loren and beat the crap out of him.
“Do you want me to deal with him?” I ask and she shakes her head, looking up at me with a curious expression.
“What happened to you last night?” she asks, and my lips tighten, the muscles in my neck and jaw going stiff and tight.
“I saw a man shoot a woman in the back, try to rape her dying body. I spent all night in the basement with that same man, ripping his fingernails off with pliers.”
“Glacier,” she says softly, finally getting it right. Today, I am Glacier. But … being with Serenity also makes me Saint. So I guess I can be both; it's possible. “That's awful.”
“So is this business with your friend,” I say and I feel … something. Like maybe I could've handled this situation better. I keep my eyes focused on Serenity's. “He's in love with you.” She sighs and leans in closer, pressing her body against mine.
“I know,” she says, and she sounds almost sad about it. “I wish I could've loved him back.”
My arms get tighter, stiffer, and Serenity chuckles softly against my chest.
“Is that so?” I ask as she nuzzles into me, lifting her face up and pressing her lips against the side of my neck. “Maybe I should kill him then?”
“Leave Loren alone,” she scolds, but not like she believes I'd ever really hurt him. “Do you feel okay now?” she asks, and I get that flicker of feeling again. It might be guilt. I'm not sure.
“I'm sorry I came in here like a raging bull in a China shop, breaking all your nice things.” My voice is soft but not necessarily cold. I really am sorry about it. But I did need her. I'll always need her, from now on. “For the record, as a woman, I don't expect anything from you. It's not your job or your responsibility to satisfy me.”
“No,” she says with a gentle sigh, standing back up and leaning away to study me, “it's not. And I can see where Loren's coming from. It's not as bad anymore, not since you and Royal and Smoky patched in, but I hear stories from back in the day. My mom used to be a groupie hang-around, used to clean shit and if one of the guys was nearby and got the urge … well, technically she could say no and walk off the compound forever, but it was just sort of expected of her to fuck them. I hate that. It makes me feel sick.”
I stand there quietly and watch her as she shakes her head, runs her fingers through her hair again.
“But you and me, we're different, Saint. It isn't like that with us. But Loren won't understand that; nobody will.”
“I love you, Serenity,” I say, standing in the middle of the bathroom after a horrid display from my monster, but I mean it anyway. “I wasn't sure if I was capable of it, but …” I pause and reach out to take her hand, pressing it flat against my chest, letting her feel the wild thundering of my heart.
“I always knew that you were,” she tells me firmly, stepping up close, pressing those matte lavender lips against mine. There are tears on her face again, but I think they're of an entirely different breed. I reach up with both hands, swipe them away with my thumbs and kiss her back.
Loren is seriously determined not to talk to me. Look at me. Acknowledge my fucking existence.
By the time Friday rolls around, I'm seriously this close to choking the life out of him.
My palm slams into the locker next to Loren's head, penning in him against the metal as I drop my worst glare on his surprised face and hold my ground, determined to hash this thing out.
“Loren, look at me,” I snap when his eyes look at everything around me except for my face. “This is ridiculous.”
“I can't … goddamn it, Serenity, but what I saw … it's burned in my fucking brain. Him, riding you like a … like a horse or something.” I close my eyes against that statement and take a deep breath. Whatever it looked like in that bathroom, it felt amazing. That rough, wild side of Glacier, I like it—even if it hurts a little, even if it bruises sometimes. And I could've said no if I'd wanted, at any time. I know that. But Loren doesn't, and he cares about me, and I owe it to him to make this right.
“I know you like me,” I tell him and he snorts, putting his back to the bank of lockers and closing his brown eyes. His dark brown hair falls across his forehead, the color of chocolate.
“Love you,” he corrects and I drop my hand, turning and mimicking his position with my arms crossed over my chest. “I love you. Always have. I had this … stupid fantasy that we'd lose our virginities to each other. I can't even believe you're screwing some guy in his twenties.”
“He's thirty,” I say and Loren groans, sliding to the floor and sitting down on the linoleum. I follow him and scoot close, so our sides are touching. “I've loved him since forever. You know that. I've told you that.”
“I thought it was some stupid crush thing, you know? Like no way would he ever go for you.” Loren opens his eyes back up and I can see his disgust for Glacier written into every line of his face. I understand it, too. I really, really do. But it just isn't what it seems. Glacier is not just some creepy old man with a fetish for jailbait. He's … mine. My monster. My man. “When did it happen? For the first time, I mean.”
“The night my mom got shot,” I whisper and Loren nods, leaning to the side and putting his head against mine. I lean into him and revel in our friendship. He's hurt, but he wouldn't cut this out of either of our lives. Never. “I practically forced him into it,” I say and Loren laughs. It's a bitter laugh, but it's there.
“If there was anyone I could believe that about, it'd be you.” He sits up again and looks at me. “I'm just worried about you. I don't want to see you become your mom.” I nod in understanding, reaching down and taking Loren's hand. His skin is cool and dry, comforting. He's a good fucking friend, Loren is. “I don't want to see you used. You're a strong, smart, kick-ass person, and you belong out in the world, not under some man's thumb.”
“It won't be like that,” I promise, because I'd never let it. I love Glacier and he, he loves me. I knew that long before he said the simple syllables of the phrase. “I won't be subjugated or subdued, Loren. I want to be a writer.”
“You should be,” he says, smiling a little. “You kn
ow I'd be first in line to buy your books.”
“That, I do believe,” I say, leaning over and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Walk me out?”
He nods as we stand up together, several days of tension bleeding out in an instant. Thank God. The rest of this week has just been … ugh. I haven't seen Glacier since the café except for once this week when Glinda didn't feel well and Mom made me work the register after school in lieu of the mayor's office. I think she did it on purpose; I'm not sure she's comfortable with me working at all.
But tonight, tonight I'll get to see him at the barbecue. Every so often, the club comes together for these family events, gathers at someone's house to eat, talk, drink, bond. Because we really are like a great, big family. A family with some backwards views, but you know, not every family can be ahead of the curve, right? Still, it's nice. The only thing I hate about these events is the expectation that I help in the kitchen. Fucking hate that.
“That was easier than I thought,” I say and Loren sighs, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair.
“I thought about making it harder, but … I just don't have it in me. I know you've always wanted this guy. So, you got him. I guess I can only really be happy for you, right?”
“Thanks, Lor,” I say as we walk outside and around the corner. I think I can sense it before I even see it, my luck fading away into the blackness of bullshit. “What the … what the hell?”
My bike. On its side. The tires popped, the finish torn to shit, the headlights and mirrors smashed to pieces.
“I told you not to fucking fuck around with me,” Nevaeh says, coming around behind me and passing by, slamming her shoulder against mine. I guess she thinks I won't fight back this time, that I'll be too worried about that third time's a charm suspension.
