Why is he here?
Katrina and the biker shake. “Nice to meet you…Bongo,” she says, reading his name patch.
Dipping his head like she’s some kind of fairy princess, he brings her knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am. If you need anythin’ at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
What. The…
Before I have time to call Bongo out on this craziness, he and Kat part ways, and our groceries are almost done being bagged.
“You coming?” Kat waves me forth as the bag boy loads down our cart.
“Sure.” I force another smile before taking control of the buggy and making our way to the Suburban. Each step is met with a scan of our surroundings as Katrina walks ahead of me like she has all day. That’s when I notice two things. One, Ryker sitting in what I assume is Vanessa’s car. Two, Bongo, straddling his Harley in the far corner of the lot, watching us through a set of binoculars. He waves to me, I lift a hand by way of hello, goodbye, and what the fuck.
In record time we get the back loaded and Kat climbs into her seat. That’s when I take out my cell phone to see I’ve missed three texts, all from Bongo.
Could tell you were nervous about coming into town. I’m outside the store keeping watch. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.
Jesus, how long does it take to buy food?
Haven’t heard from you so I’m coming inside to check in.
A foreign warmth swirls in my middle, weirding me out as I finish reading the texts.
Bongo did this for me. I’m not sure what to feel or say.
Leaning my back against the truck door, expelling a breath, I wave my thanks to Bongo. He nods like he gets me. Maybe he’s more of a friend than I thought. I’ve never had any real friends before—apart from Johnny.
Between the hermit and Kat, I’m all kinds of… unnerved.
And…
I don’t hate it…
Not like I thought I would.
Strange.
Chapter Seven
Kade
Domesticated has never been a word used to describe me. I’ve always been the subtle, wild child. The one his father worries about and his brother overlooks. Tonight, I played my part by having dinner with Katrina, my nieces Roxie and Scarlett, Pops, and his life partner Ghost—Kat’s dad. Yes, they’re gay. Well, Ghost is. Pops doesn’t discriminate based on sex. If you’ve gotta problem with who they love, you can fuck right off… Ya got me? Then there was my beautiful black Swan, ever the quiet observer as I interacted with the fam.
Rosie even helped Watermelon Tits cook a memorable lasagna this evening. That came with a perverted, eggplant make-out show thanks to Kat. It was well-planned payback for all the eggplant emojis I text when she asks what I’m doing. Usually, I’m balls deep in some random chick’s throat or pussy. It keeps me busy, and gets me off. Too bad it’s not all that satisfying. Less than sixty seconds after I nut, the hollowness returns. Darkness creeps back in, fixing nothing. Not my hunger, nor this fucked up head that rests atop my shoulders. More than I care to admit, I escape to the bathroom afterward to use my knife. It relaxes me. Centers this depravity, even without drawing blood. There’s something liberating about scraping a cool blade up and down your forearm. It’s an addiction and I always need my fix.
The sound of a certain someone moving through the woods perks my ears up. I’m back where I was last night, at the same tree, sitting on the ground, dressed head to toe in black. At the base of the trunk across from me, two warm blankets are folded beside a thermos of hot chocolate. I dunno what Rosie likes, but something tells me it ain’t coffee or tea. Then again, I could be wrong. She’s not exactly the easiest to get to know. The woman barely said ten words through supper.
A handful of twigs snap underfoot, which says the swan knows I’m here. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t hear a sound. She moves unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
The sexy sprite speaks moments before I see her. “What are you doing here, Kade?” Rosie sighs her exasperation with my presence as she steps around the ancient maple eight feet from the toe of my boots. The stars and thumbnail moon offer little help in making out her features this night. I knew I should’ve brought a lantern. Next time, I won’t forget.
“I’m here to talk.” I play it cool, hoping she doesn’t escape too soon.
Rosie leans a hoodie-clad shoulder against the tree. “Because I passed your test last night?”
Ankle crossing over the other, I give it to her straight. There’s no use in playing games neither of us have the patience to play. I have other things in store for this captivating goddess. Pissing her off isn’t how I get there. “I want to know you.” That’s as transparent as one can get. Now the cards will fall where they may.
“Excuse me?” Her voice cracks the slightest, taken aback by my confession. Too bad I can’t see the contours of her face, or the glint of moonlight in those hazel beauts.
“Don’t pretend like you forgot about—”
“Your bout of insanity?” Rosie finishes, the sharp bite to her words setting my insides ablaze. Having a mind of his own, my cock thickens. The taste of desire tickles the back of my throat as I suppress a shiver.
Fuck, the crazy shit this woman does to me without trying.
Needing to stay in check for her sake, I withdraw the dagger from my boot. The moment it brushes my forearm I relax, and the inferno fades to embers of red-hot coals, settling in the lowest pit of my stomach. “It’s not insane to want… you,” I whisper upon the crisp evening air. It’s impossible not to crave her. Those all-seeing eyes find me in my dreams, in every waking fantasy. I’m hooked.
“Yes. It is.”
“Why? ‘Cause you’re broken?” I counter.
Rosie makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and pushes off the tree to leave. “I’ve heard enough.”
Fuck that. She isn’t allowed to run away. That’s not an option tonight. Not after I spent the entire evening watching her around my family, when I couldn’t say anything to push her limits, or be my true self. Refraining that long was hard enough.
I gesture to the blankets at the foot of the maple, hoping she sees where I’m pointing. “Come sit with me. My guess is, you’ll find we’re more alike than ya think.”
As stubborn as she is sexy, Rosie pivots on her heel. “We’re nothing alike. Good evening, Kade.”
Retreating, she takes four purposeful steps in the opposite direction. Scared this might be the last chance I get to speak to her alone, my heart revs into overdrive and I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. Anything to let her know she’s not alone in the world. That I understand her. That she can be herself with me, under the veil of darkness where angels with blonde hair move like ghosts, and the king of fucked up can desire without shame.
“My mother sexually abused me.” Those potent, all-encompassing words echo through the still forest.
Damn. This isn’t as easy as I thought.
A lump lodges in my throat.
“Wh-what did you say?” She pauses mid-stride, the back of her black beanie catching the starlight just right.
Exhaling a harsh breath, I forge ahead, into pastures I’ve never laid bare before. “I said, my mother sexually abused me.” Thank fuck, my voice sounds braver than I feel.
Rosie’s spine stiffens. “And you’re telling me this, why?” That tinkly voice waivers a fraction, enough that I notice when most wouldn’t. “I don’t want to know you. I don’t care about your past and have no desire to share mine.” Liar. I can sense the shift in the air, from mild irritation to intrigue. A fly caught in the spider’s web.
Good.
Perhaps the swan isn’t as unaffected by me after all.
Again, I gesture to the stuff I brought, even though she’s facing the other direction. “Fair enough. But could you please sit down? I brought blankets to keep you warm and some hot chocolate.”
“Kade,” she warns, trying her hardest to push me away
. It isn’t working.
“Rosie, please. You don’t have to say anything. Just listen.” Let me be near you. The beast likes it. You make him happy.
“Fine.” My graceful Swan spins around and spreads a blanket on the ground at the base of the tree. Throwing herself on it like a child having a tantrum, she drapes her legs with the striped cotton, back resting against the trunk.
“Talk,” she barks once settled.
Sure, it’s not the reception I wanted, but she stayed. That’s the best I can hope for until trust is built. Which will come, at a hefty price. It always does with those who walk among the wreckage of our circumstances.
Closing my eyes, I force the story to my lips, of words that have never been spoken aloud before. “It started when I was five. I thought it was okay. That she loved me, so it wasn’t bad. I’m not gonna go into the finer details. Only that it lasted half a decade.”
Five years of… torment.
Rosie says nothing.
Taking a deep, emotional breath, I steel myself for the misery that lies beyond the door of my childhood bedroom. “I was ten when she touched me the last time. By then, I’d started to fight back. But she didn’t care. She still tied me down and gagged me before raping me, over and over again, until satisfied.”
“Be a good boy, Kade.” A phantom finger traces down my cheek. I cringe, wrenching away from the touch as I replay the final night with my mother in vivid detail.
“Stop fighting me. This is for your own good. Don’t you love me, baby? Don’t you want mommy to feel good? You used to love it when I touched you here.”
Bile surges up my throat as I remember her angelic voice and red lipped smile, of lacy lingerie and studded leather belts.
Strapped to my twin bed with a rope from the garage, a ball gag was stuffed in my mouth. Something large vibrated my bottom as she tightened a ring around my penis, to keep it erect for her. There were clothespins on my tiny nipples as something even sharper stabbed my testicles, sending spikes of pain up my spine as it bowed off the mattress.
I tried to twist free.
“Stop, Kade. Stop this right now.” My mother slapped my erection hard, taking my breath away.
I gasped, and the pain intensified.
“You know you want this,” she insisted.
I wanted none of it.
Not the mommy bath time when I was five. Not playing hide the action figure. Nobody wants any of it. But do you think she ever listened? No. It didn’t matter what I wanted. Everything was about her. Her sick desires. Her needs.
Tears streamed down my face as I screamed for help. The music she played on my CD player drowned out all noise. Especially the cries of ecstasy she would unleash once she began. Believe me, they always came. As did she.
I clutch my stomach, doubling over, hating how this still fucks with my life— making me weak, bringing me back to the little boy who had his innocence stolen away.
A silence descends between us and I’m grateful for it.
I card my fingers through my short hair, nails scratching along my scalp. The wild heartbeat beneath my pecs also throbs in my temples.
Reopening my eyes, I press the blade to my wrist. Lightly scoring it, I draw myself back to here and now, away from the childhood nightmare that taints my soul.
Rosie watches me bleed. Her gaze heavy, like a warm embrace.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she whispers, once she knows I’m okay.
I set my dagger on the forest floor. Using my thumb, I smear droplets of crimson along the inside of my wrist. “I did.”
“Who?” Rosie opens the thermos and pours herself a cup of cocoa.
“Ryker. Once. He thought it was a joke and I never brought it up again.” In his defense, I was calm and collected when I told him. We were watching a movie. It seemed like a good time to lift the burden. None of it went over as I planned in my head. Does it ever?
A low female growl emanates across the way. “What that… What happened to… that woman?” my fierce Swan seethes.
“My pops killed her. Ryker doesn’t know.” And he can never find out. It would devastate him. We agreed to let his memory of mom live on unspoiled.
“When?”
“When he walked in on her having sex with me... I was screaming through the gag. It was so quick I don’t even think he realized what he’d done until she was gone.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Crissy?!” Pops boomed. In the blink of an eye, he tore her off me by the back of her neck.
“Did he use a blade?” Rosie asks, sounding wickedly optimistic.
I shake my head, hoping she can see the gesture through the night that separates us, now that her eyes have adjusted. “He strangled her against the wall with both hands around her throat. He cried and yelled the entire time she tried to fight back. But you’ve seen him. He’s not a small man.” At that age, he had more muscles and less beard than he does now. He was larger than life, even then.
Swan takes a sip from her cup, engrossed in our conversation. This is good. We’re getting somewhere. “Were— are you mad at him?”
I lick my lips. “For killing my mother? No. I was relieved. Still am. It’s her fault I’m fucked up. She’s the reason for the knives. For my… tastes.”
“How?”
I sigh.
How do you confess the worst parts of yourself to the woman that speaks to your soul? The woman whose mere presence turns you on and sets you at ease all in the same breath. What if it’s too much for her to see? I barely know her, yet that makes no difference.
“Kade, it’s okay to tell me,” Rosie soothes.
Unable to look in her direction, I draw a blood heart on the palm of my hand in honor of what the black swan holds of mine. “Knives turned her on like they turn me on.”
Please don’t leave. I know I’m fucked up.
When Rosie doesn’t run for the hills, I carry on. “I can’t explain more than that without going into depraved shit that’ll give, even you, nightmares. Let’s just say Mommy Dearest wasn’t your typical child molester. She had an arsenal of toys.”
Not asking me to elaborate, as if she knows that’s too hard for me to share, Rosie moves the conversation in a safer direction. “She never touched Ryker?”
Another shake of my head. “Not that I know of.” That would’ve never happened. He was the thicker kid with attitude problems. I was a small, lanky boy who never wanted to rock the boat—an easy target. Who also loved his mother, and wanted her to love him in return. Pops worked a lot. Ryker wanted nothing to do with his younger brother. So, there she was, popping in and out of our lives, making me feel special every moment she showed her face. It wasn’t until I was almost twenty, when I realized she’d been grooming me. That’s what pedophiles do.
“I’m fucked up, too,” Rosie confesses on the tail of a whisper.
Where darkness lies, so does the truth—upon the lips of a fallen angel cloaked in black and hair spun with strands of gold.
“I know,” my broken Swan.
“Thank you for sharing what you did, but I can’t do the same.” Adjusting herself on the blanket, Rosie’s defenses fortify as if she’s afraid I’ll push her too far—that those iron forged walls will come tumbling down. In due time, I hope they will.
“That’s okay. I’m a patient man.” I aim to ease her mind. Not disrupt it.
She recaps the thermos. “Kade, I’m serious. I plan to take it all to the grave.”
That won’t happen. It can’t. I’ve learned to live with my evils, to do my best to accept them. Rosie harbors everything deep down. Opening up wouldn’t be for my benefit, it’s for hers. Even if she doesn’t talk to me, she needs to speak with somebody.
“Rosie, you need a person in your corner. I saw you with Kat tonight. You smiled and laughed. Not all of you is lost.” Her smiles, though brief and often strained, could power New York City. They’re breathtaking.
The inner beast chuffs in agreement and licks his paws, calm in
her presence. More so than he’s ever been around anyone. Anywhere.
Rosie shifts again, underneath the blanket. “Katrina has a warmth.”
“I know.”
“That makes you feel less—”
“Damaged.” I finish for her.
“You feel it, too?”
“I have since the moment I met her. She’s sunshine and rainbows, even after what Ghost and Ryker did to her.” And they did far more than any one person should ever have to endure from those who claim to love them. Ghost pulling the shit he did to Kat when she was a child was wrong. Then again, I would’ve never met Katrina, and in retrospect, Rosie, had each piece of the puzzle not fit like it was destined to. Would I wish for a different outcome for Kat? Sure, I do. But I’m also glad she’s here. It feels like home with her close by.
“She’s a strong woman,” Rosie notes, a tinge of respect enveloping her words.
“As are you.”
“Not in the same way.”
That’s true.
“No. But she can bring joy to your life if you let her.” Since the moment I met Katrina, I knew she was special. That she could turn the darkest moments to light and laughter. It’s a gift that Ryker doesn’t deserve and Rosie needs.
“Are you in love with her?” she hedges.
Pressing my lips together, I suppress a chuckle. “Why would you ask such a stupid question?”
“If she can mend your broken…”
I see where this is going.
“My broken can never be glued back together.” Not by Watermelon Tits anyhow. The love I feel for her has always been and will always be that of a dear friend.
“How do you know?”
“Can yours?” I counter already knowing the answer.
“No.” She’s firm.
See? We’re two peas in a rather messed up pod.
“I get pleasure out of torturing people to death. Sadistic pleasure. There’s no fixing that.” The blood on my wrist has dried, the wound sealing shut, so I pick my dagger off the ground and resume rubbing the cool blade along my forearm, careful not to break the skin this time.
Wrecked & Reclaimed (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter Book 5) Page 5
