by Violet Blaze
“Are you sure it's safe here?” I ask after Glacier parks his bike in the garage and I take the helmet off, glancing sadly over at the empty space next to us. “My dad knows where you live.”
“He knows better than to come over here,” Glacier tells me as we climb off his bike and he notices me staring into space. His tattooed fingers reach out and lift my chin, drawing my attention back to his face. “He knows that I'd kill him if he tried.”
I step forward and find myself wrapped in the strong bands of Saint's arms.
“Where's my bike?” I ask, feeling his warm breath stir my hair.
“At the shop,” he says, meaning Wolf Cycle Service and Repair on the compound. “I'll work on it first thing come Monday.” There's a pause full of unspoken things. Monday. Feels like a long way away. Royal said there'd be church tomorrow? Church is what they call meeting time for the Wolves—and the thing they'll be discussing is me. As if I can't make my own damn decisions.
I sigh and bury my face in Saint's leather clad shoulder.
“My dad looked at me like I was a monster; my mother cried.”
“They don't like me,” Saint says simply, which is true and totally sad. They don't like him because they've never bothered to try to get to know him. It's so much easier to send some emotionless monster off to do the club's bidding, to get his hands bloody with all the dirty work they don't want to do. “But that's okay because I don't intend to back down on this.”
“At least we don't have to worry about them calling the cops,” I say, but the joke falls flat and I end up just sucking in a long, deep breath. Of course the club won't call the cops, so statutory rape isn't an issue here. But there are so, so, so many other issues that it's hardly a relief. I pull back from Glacier and he lets go of me, moving over to the door and unlocking it. He even holds it open for me. “So … about the old lady thing …” I start as Glacier locks the door behind us and we end up standing super close together in the short hallway next to the kitchen.
“I had to say it,” he says, studying my face, “but if you don't want to be my old lady, then it doesn't matter. Legalities, club votes, terminology, all of that's meaningless. It doesn't change anything between us.” He pauses and this time, it's his turn to sigh, like maybe deep down, he's just the tiniest bit stressed out about the whole thing. “I can tell you what's going to happen though. They'll want us to get married.”
“Married?” I ask, clasping my hands together in front of my chest. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. “Why? That seems a little counterintuitive based on my dad's reaction …”
“If we're fucking and you're underage, then it makes me a liability to the club. If we get married, then statutory rape laws no longer apply.”
“That's … I mean, a good thing for us, but kind of creepy if you think about it,” I say and Glacier actually laughs. He rakes his fingers through his blonde hair and kicks the fridge door open. Literally kicks it.
“Want a beer? You might as well, after the day you've had.” He opens one and hands it to me; I take it, knowing my mom would basically slit his throat if she knew all the things we did together. Glacier opens a beer for himself and tips half of it back in a single swig. I like watching him drink, like watching the tattoos on his neck work as he swallows.
“Marriage,” I say, testing the word out on my tongue. Do I want to get married? No, not really. It's a tired institution in my opinion, and I think the marriage plot is so out. But would I do it to stay with Saint? I would. He's right though; it wouldn't change anything between us. Glacier and I have something that's so beyond marriage. “I've only ever seen marriage used as some sort of … chain to hold a woman down. I don't like it.”
I pick at the label on my beer bottle and then lift it up for a sip.
“I would never do that to you,” Saint says, and he actually gives me another one of those almost-smile things. They make my heart flip-flop like crazy. “I think you should keep your own name like Mayor Rentz, write books from our bed, and ride your bike to the beach with me.”
“Do you … actually try to be romantic? Because so many times, you just fucking are and it's adorable.”
“Adorable?” Saint asks, raising a blonde brow as he steps over to me, using the fingers with the word DEAD on them to brush my hair over my shoulder. “Not a single person that's ever met me would describe me as adorable.”
“Not a single person that's ever met you understands you like I do,” I say with a deep breath, knowing I sound slightly crazy when I say that. But it's true. It just is. I don't care what it sounds like. “So the club will want us to get married? You're sure about that?”
“Positive. Besides, they'll want you to be neutralized as a threat. A wife isn't required to testify against her husband in court. Marrying us helps ensure that you won't be telling anyone all the juicy little secrets that you know.” Glacier's smile gets a little wicked, a little dark. “Honestly, that whole club should be getting on their knees and thanking their lucky stars. You know every goddamn thing there is to know about the Alpha Wolves, don't you Ren?”
I won't lie: hearing Glacier use my nickname like that, it turns my entire body to ash, completely consumed by the fire of that single syllable. My legs clench together and I feel my sex bloom with wetness.
“I know more than they could ever realize. They talk like I'm not around, or like I don't matter even if I am. You're right: they should be kissing your ass over this. But my dad? He won't let it go, Glacier. He's going to use every one of his connections in that club to destroy you.”
“He can try,” Glacier says as I step away from him and head into the bedroom, curling myself up on the red and black warmth of his bed, loving the way the walls glimmer and burn with warmth and color. He doesn't follow me straight to the mattress, instead choosing to pause in the doorway and lean against the frame. “There is no alternative to what I'm suggesting. They can argue and vote all they want, but it doesn't matter. I don't care what they say. I am this club. Without me, who will do their fucking dirty work?”
Damn. Glacier has a point.
“But the bike …” I start, trailing off to finish my beer and set the bottle aside. “They'll never give in when it comes to that. There's no way; it's too ingrained in their culture. And I won't give it up, Saint. I can't. It … feels too good to ride. How can they not understand that? Why would my vagina make me want to feel any less free?”
“You don't have to fight this battle,” Glacier tells me, finishing his beer and setting it on the dresser before coming over to sit next to me. His blue eyes trail up and over the walls, examining the color with careful scrutiny. “There'll probably be a lot of battles in your life that you'll have to bleed for; this isn't one of them. Let me take care of this.”
“Saint,” I say, but how do I respond to something like that? Still, I can't help but wonder what other prices I'll have to pay for this relationship. Mom … she may never look at me the same way again. And no matter what happens with that vote tomorrow, Dad certainly won't.
“I have to head over to the cemetery house tonight,” Saint tells me and his voice gets this icy tinge to it. “That cocksucker will probably die if I don't at least check on him.”
“Take me with you,” I say, even as I'm wondering if that's a terrible idea. Do I really want to see the place where the man I love commits murder? But I feel like I need to see this place to truly understand him and his monster.
Saint looks over at me. I know about the cemetery house. All the old ladies do, really. But none of them know where it is. There are several cemeteries in Trinidad and the surrounding area, and the girls like to make bets on where they think it might be. But I also know that the house belongs to my man, so if anyone should get to go over there, it should be me.
Most of the guys in the club would wring Glacier's neck if they saw the contemplative look on his face, like he's weighing the decision in his head.
“Okay, Serenity,” he tells me and goose bumps spring up acro
ss my arms. “I don't want to hide anything from you; I want you to see all of me.”
He reaches for me and I go to him, straddling his lap and feeling my body respond violently to his touch, like she'll die if she doesn't get enough of his skin pressed against hers. Glacier buries his face against my shoulder and breathes in my scent, making this wild murmuring sound in the back of his throat that completely drives me up the wall.
“You make me feel human,” he says which is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. I look into his face, realizing that our position is an exact replica of the one we sat in that night in the dorm room—and it's turning me on. Of course, there's this low grade anxiety humming in the background of my mind, this conscious awareness that today was beyond royally fucked up. I'm probably going to be suspended again, possibly expelled and sent to adult school in the nearby town of Eureka. Nevaeh's parents may very well press assault charges against me; I could end up in juvie or on some community service squad picking up trash. My mom might look at me the way the kids at my school always have—like I'm sort of crazy leather wearing harlot. My dad might disassociate himself from me.
But … when Glacier puts his hands on my hips, I feel somehow like it'll all work out. It'll be okay. Loren forgave me after all, and he saw Glacier at his worst.
“Before we go then …” I start, scooting back a little and reaching down to unbutton Glacier's jeans. Tomorrow, I have an appointment to hang with Aletha and Rayna, and they promised to take me to this sex shop in downtown Eureka. I want to … pick up a few things to experiment with. For now, our bodies are more than good enough.
I free Glacier's thick, proud cock from his pants and really, I do find it beautiful, like a piece of art, an alabaster sculpture that's warm and velvety in my hands. I stand up and push my panties aside, lowering myself onto Saint's cock and sucking in my breath, almost like I'm trying to make room for him inside of me. I sink down until he's completely enveloped in my body, rocking my hips in a slow, easy rhythm.
I pull Glacier's head against my breasts, dig my fingers into his hair. He bites and sucks my nipples through the fabric of my tank, lifting his left hand up and kneading the tender flesh. His right hand he keeps at my hip, holding tight, encouraging me to keep it slow and easy, this gentle rolling gait that hits all sorts of amazing spots inside of me.
“You,” he breathes out as he lifts his face and touches his mouth to mine, “are the best thing that ever happened to me.” His tongue cuts off any sort of response as we kiss, long and lingering, exploring each other's mouths. Saint doesn't seem to be in any sort of rush, so I take it slow, feeling my orgasm start small, like a tiny bubble at the base of my spine. The more we move, the longer we go, the more bubbles I feel floating up inside of me, bumping against my heart, turning me into a tingly, panting little mess.
I don't let those bubbles pop until I feel Saint's muscles tightening, his body going stiff between my thighs, his mouth changing from gentle to violent in an instant. His left hand grabs the back of my head and crushes our lips together as he comes, hips bucking up off the bed, driving himself deep as he shoots his load and I listen to the warm male sounds spilling from his throat. I relax in his arms, and let myself go, pleasure rushing over my skin in a wave of heat as my back arches and my sex clenches mercilessly around Glacier's cock.
When we're both done and cleaned up, he gives me his leather jacket to wear and I slip on the pair of jeans I left on his dresser the last time I was here.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me one more time, standing in the garage and staring at me across the space above his bike.
“I'm sure,” I tell him, and there's no doubt in my mind about that.
Today's been … interesting.
But I knew it would come out sooner or later. I am sorry that Serenity had to go through that, but it'll work out. It will because I won't allow it to go any other way. The club has a lot of pull, a lot of influence, but it can exert none of that on me. I do everything for the Wolves—I have for years—and yet I ask for nothing. Nothing at all. No loans, no favors, no special treatment. This one thing, I will not be denied.
I whip through the darkness on my bike, wishing I could kill that girl from Serenity's school. How dare she touch my woman's bike, take away that joy in her face, bring all this trouble crashing down. I'll fix the bike or buy a new one, and I'll figure out some way to work that into my argument tomorrow. After all, if Serenity is my old lady, then what fucking say should the others have in how I deal with my wife? The whole idea of it is preposterous to me. As if I'd actually want to dominate and subdue the woman I love. She's her own person; she holds the leash to my monster. Nothing could make me happier.
We swing through town and then outside of it, through a tunnel of trees and into a small swath of residential neighborhood carved out of the forest. At the end of an empty street, there it sits, the house from my nightmares, my history, the place where a boy died and a monster was made. I never thought I'd see that boy resurrected as a man, but it looks like that's exactly what's going to happen. Serenity. She's the light to my darkness; there's no doubt about that.
I pull into the curved driveway and around back, through the hole in the fence, positioning my bike behind one of the cemetery's mausoleums. This is where I always park if I'm here without one of the brothers keeping watch for me. There've been times where being hidden back here has quite literally saved my psycho ass. The last time I got caught unawares, I would've died if my bike hadn't been drenched in shadow.
“This is beautiful,” Serenity says, surprising me as usual. Everything about this girl is a fucking surprise. She said she wanted everything from me, and she meant it. Even my monster doesn't seem to scare her.
She hands her helmet over to me, big blonde ponytail bouncing as she moves across the grass and presses her fingertips to the surface of one of the mossy graves. Silver moonlight slants down across her face, highlighting her cheek bones and the swollen perfection of her lips. Even without makeup, they're pearly and pink and fucking irresistible.
I lean back on my bike and watch her take pleasure in old graves and forgotten people, my eyes tracking her movements like a wolf keeping watch over his mate. I suppose that's what she is now, my mate. But she's just so much more than that. I will send my soul into darkness, obliterate my own existence to keep her from feeling pain.
“Glacier, holy shit, some of these are old.” Serenity traces the edges of a desecrated angel, its face raised in silent prayer, its wings decimated by time. My mouth quirks a little and I stand up, swinging my leg over my bike and moving across the soggy ground to stand next to her. Behind and to my left, my grandmother's old house sits bathed in decay. On my right, the cemetery stretches up the hill and into the trees. For every gravestone that stands watch here, there are at least two bodies paying homage to it, most of them my own doing. At least one positive side of committing the actual evil act is that I don't have to bury anybody. That's somebody else's problem.
“I like to take walks here, to clear my head,” I say, the breeze ruffling my cut against my body. Here I am, in my darkest place, the one spot in the whole world that has the potential to bring my whole facade of normal crumbling to the ground and I feel … okay. Because I have Serenity here with me. A surge of warmth flickers through me as she bends down next to the grave to rearrange the offerings in front of it with careful reverence. My hand seems to come up of its own accord, my knuckles sliding along the side of her face. She leans into the touch with a small sigh, standing up only after the faded silk flowers are arranged back in their vase.
“It's nice. Peaceful.” She nods her head, crossing her arms over her chest, the leather of her borrowed jacket rustling. “So,” she starts as she glances over her shoulder and then turns around, “this is the house you … from the story? It's absolutely beautiful.”
“It was,” I say, following her gaze and staring up at the dilapidated building with fresh eyes. Everything Se
renity looks at is fresh, new, bubbling over with possibility. Makes me feel like a dick for taking her as my own, ruining her, smothering her with my darkness. But somehow, all it seems to do is slide off of her, like water from a duck's back. I flick my blue eyes over to her face.
“It could be again, one day,” she says, turning her attention back to me. Our gazes meet and something like lightning shoots straight through me. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands. “But maybe not for you? Maybe you should let it go, this house?”
“The club will never let me get rid of this house,” I say, and it's true. “I'm remodeling it. Slowly. I could never live here, but it makes the neighbors less suspicious, gives the boys and me a reason for coming over here.”
“Neighbors? What neighbors?” Serenity jokes, lifting a hand to her eyes and peering around at the mostly empty landscape. Just graves and trees and overgrown bushes. She drops her hand and reaches down, curling her fingers through mine, infusing my cold body with warmth. “Show me the inside.”
I pull Serenity back around to the hole in the fence and then through to the backyard, around to the front. I unlock the door and let her in, watching her carefully as she moves across the now clean living room floor and straight to the old fireplace.
“I just swept in here,” I tell her as she runs her fingers along the freshly sanded wood. I'll get it looking perfect, all of it, turn this house into the shining gem it once was. But I'll never live here. I couldn't.
“It's really beautiful,” she tells me again, dropping her hand and looking at me with a sort of strained sadness in her face. You need to be loved. That's what she said to me; she might have been right. “Where's the basement?”
I walk across the room, my own footsteps echoing loudly in the mostly empty space. I pause next to her, run my fingertips down the leather sleeves of the club jacket draped across her shoulders.
