Mike

by Daniela Jackson

  “Bye.”

  “Daisy, stay.”

  “There’re whores in the clubhouse.” She tilts her head. “But you already know this. Go back to them and have fun.”

  Her accusation wakes a furious animal inside me. I am her husband, and I’m damn serious about it. The club whores know they should keep their distance unless I ask them to entertain me. I’m a husband now. I’m not gonna ask them until I am a widower. Since Daisy is only eighteen, she’ll become a widow first so the club whores have no access to my life. Ever.

  “I’m not gonna explain myself,” I say.

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  The door slams shut. My brain hurts then it feels like it’s cracking and falling apart.

  I wonder how much the Shadow Wolves’ old ladies and daughters really know. The boys attend church, but Daisy’s knowledge both amazes and disturbs me. Then I just feel sad.

  Our kids are in the deep shit with us. They had to adapt. They had to learn to know things.

  I don’t want to think about my marriage because I don’t know what to think.

  Daisy

  There’s food on the desk and drinks on the floor. A romance movie is playing on the flat screen.

  Star sniffles. “I’ve seen this movie a hundred times and…” Her voice falters as tears trickle down her cheeks. “He loves her so much…”

  I start sniffling too. This is such a romantic movie. We hug each other as the final credits appear on the screen.

  A light knocking on the window makes me shudder. Star chuckles and strokes my arm. She rises to her feet from the red Persian rug and moves to the window. She opens it and Rebel tumbles inside. He straightens up, smoothes his hand over the front of his t-shirt and corrects his cut.

  “I didn’t know she’d be here,” he rasps.

  “Dad is at Ace’s place and I’m always a bit scared on my own,” Star says.

  “I’m here,” Rebel growls. “You should have told me. I’d stay with you.”

  Electricity sparks between them. My God, they’re so sweet together like spring and a hurricane personified.

  “We’re watching movies,” Star says. “You want to join us?”

  “I’m not gonna watch any girly bullshit,” Rebel says, but sits on the floor beside me. “Move away from me, bitch.”

  “Hey, I’m your stepmom. Respect me.” It just pours out of me.

  He’s really getting on my nerves. I’m nice to him. I’m not responsible for the shit in his life. Well, I belong to the family responsible for the shit in his life, but I didn’t make any decisions.

  Rebel’s fist rises as his eyes shoot lightning towards me. I can see a killer inside him through his eyes. I know this glance because I’ve seen killers in life—my dad, my uncles, my grandpas, my enemies.

  My heart hammers in my chest.

  “Rebel,” Star squeaks and clings to him. “She is nice to us.”

  “You have no right, bitch,” Rebel says to me.

  “Don’t call me a bitch,” I say.

  “Fucking bitch.” He grins at me.

  “Boy, you don’t know who I am,” I say.

  “You’re funny, you know Daisy?” He grins even wider, but rage pervades his gaze.

  We rise to our feet, the atmosphere around us thickening, simmering.

  “I can smash, you little boy,” I say.

  Yep, my warrior genes awake. I’m a calm person and it’s not easy to piss me off, but I have my limits.

  “You’re fucked up,” Rebel says. “You need help, bitch.”

  “You fucking little coward,” I say. “I’ve had a good training in martial arts. You want to try me?”

  “I don’t hit little girls.”

  “Your mommy was my maid,” I say. “My servant, little boy.”

  Now, I’m the winner.

  “Outside, bitch.” He growls as an urge of murder darkens his eyes.

  “Rebel,” Star shrieks. “Don’t do this, please. You’re not like this.”

  We go outside of the house and stand on the grassy ground.

  “You want to have your nose broken, bitch?” Rebel brings his fists up to his chest. “I’ll give you a broken nose. And then you’re gonna apologise for that shit you said about my mom.”

  “If I win, you’ll come over for dinner to my caravan and you’ll sort the shit between you and Mike out, you dick.” I bring my fists up to my chest.

  “I can smash you with one punch,” Rebel says.

  He’s haughty. He underestimates me. This is my advantage.

  I’m small, but I’m fast. I had to listen to Dimitri’s monologues about using my speed for hours. He expected me to exercise every day. He showed me how to perfect every tiny movement. I was covered in sweat and blood during out training sessions.

  “Malenkaya,” Dimitri used to say, “I love you, but I have to make a tough suka out of you. Understood? For your own good.”

  “Da, grandpa,” I used to answer.

  When we lived in the desert, Kolya trained me as well. Uncle Kolya. He died. Sadness killed him.

  I watch Rebel. He’s fast too, but he’s never been trained by a professional. Life taught him to fight.

  And I don’t think he’s ever hit a woman. This is my advantage.

  “You first,” he says.

  “You first, you clumsy little coward,” I say.

  He leaps towards me and I swerve. Adrenaline fills my veins. Dimitri’s voice rings in my head. My survival instinct is all that guides me.

  Rebel bounces on his knees and watches me. “If I win, you’ll leave the compound and never come back.”

  “We’ve got a deal,” I say.

  It’s dark. The light filtering from the house encloses us in a timeless bubble.

  Rebel spurts towards me as his fist slams into the side of my chest. My breath sticks in my throat, but I know what to do. I rotate my body, lower myself and deliver a punch into his abdomen. He moves back.

  “Not bad, bitch.” Seriousness tinges his voice.

  Fuck. We’re going to spill blood.

  Chapter 10

  Mike

  Voices tear me out of my numbness—sharp voices, chanting voices, howling voices. I’ve been sitting in the couch since she left—lifeless, powerless, and defeated.

  I fucked up with Daisy.

  If a wolf meets the right woman, they don’t fuck up.

  I’m no wolf.

  The shouts and whistles outside the caravan divert my attention, bombard my head and force me to stand up. I walk out and see a group of people gathered around Gabriel’s house.

  Right. Rebel is fighting again. I know it’s him. My son has just made Daisy and me homeless.

  Rebel.

  I don’t allow myself to think about him because I fucking don’t know what to think about this whole mess.

  If I allow myself to think, guilt will flood me. A sense of loss will flood me. I will drown in the ocean of alcohol.

  I’ve watched him grow up. I’ve watched my own son grow up and I’ve said maybe ten words to him.

  I pull forward and elbow my way through the crowd. Then I freeze. My very own wife is circling Rebel like a little monkey, dodging his punches. Blood is dripping from her nose. Her hair looks like a bird’s nest.

  Blood is dripping from Rebel’s nose too.

  Thunder lays his hand on my shoulder. “Looks like our kids have to sort out some shit between them.”

  “She’s my wife,” I bark.

  “Look at her,” Thunder says as admiration laces his voice.

  So I look at her.

  She’s moving like a cheetah now. I know those movements. My president, Zane, moves like this. And fucking hell, she’s even better than him. Younger, springier, beautiful. Her ballerina grace makes her movements light and fast. Precise as hell. She’s twirling around Rebel, teasing him and pissing him off.

  I can see his hesitation to hurt her. This is her advantage and she fucking knows it.

  Gab
riel stands at my other side.

  “You said no fights with the brothers,” I say. “She’s a girl. It doesn’t count.”

  Gabriel raises his hands in a warding gesture. “Pleasure to watch your old lady.” He nods several times. “It’s a shame she’s a girl. We don’t patch girls.”

  “Neither do we,” I lower my voice as I say this, “but we let them think they’re in charge.”

  Gabriel erupts into laughter then a coughing fit claws at him. I slap him between shoulder blades and watch my little wife.

  She spins and kicks Rebel’s calves from behind. Flinging her body to the side, she sweeps her arm and crushes his crotch.

  “Fuck,” Thunder says and hisses. “Oh fuck.”

  Rebel bends as Daisy punches him in the face. He sways and she kicks his calves from behind, knocking him down. Then she straddles his back and grabs his head.

  “Don’t move, motherfucker, or I’ll twist your neck,” Daisy yells. “We’ve got a deal, right?”

  Rebel growls with fury.

  “We’ve got a deal,” Daisy yells, “a deal you’re gonna respect, right?”

  “Right,” Rebel rasps.

  Daisy rises to her feet and our glances meet.

  I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than her in this moment.

  She passes me in silence, guarding the side of her chest—a princess and a warrior blending into a perfect creation, and I follow her to the caravan. I’m mesmerised. No, I’m in love with her like some teen.

  We step inside and move to the kitchen.

  Blood gushes from her nose as she opens the cupboard and takes surgical needles out then she lowers and takes a bottle of vodka out. Right. I keep that stuff in case I was wounded. I watch her pull her t-shirt over her head and examine a deep cut on her arm.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  She pours some vodka over her wound and winces then holds one of the needles.

  “You need anaesthesia, Daisy.”

  “I’m a wolf, Mike. I need a bottle of vodka to disinfect my wound, that’s all.”

  Her eyes blaze violently as she drops onto the metal bar stool and starts stitching the wound up by herself. Her tiny fingers seem a bit stiff. I bet a few of her digits are broken.

  “Daisy, for fuck’s sake, I can bring you to the hospital.”

  “If you’re gonna faint or something, you’d better leave the kitchen.” An eerie coldness layers her voice as her whole being oozes strength.

  It must hurt as hell, but she only winces each time she pierces her skin with the needle. And fuck me, she can do it expertly. Dimitri was a great teacher.

  I saw the training sessions in the Spanish Pyrenees, two or three times. Dimitri had no mercy for the girls—they’d trained since the age of eight—they cried, they bled. I saw Brianna once. She’s a ballerina-killer.

  I’m standing, frozen like a monument. Enchanted. So fucking aroused that my dick is painful.

  I’ve never felt anything like this. Daisy owns me. I’d die for her a hundred times.

  The cut needs three stitches.

  Daisy throws the needle into the sink and looks for a piece of gauze. She presses it against her cut and secures it with a piece of white sticky tape.

  The kitchen is covered in blood like someone has been murdered by a vampire here.

  “I’m going back to my parents’ house in two days,” she says.

  “What?”

  “You and Rebel have a lot of shit to work out and I want to be on my own.”

  “No fucking way.”

  She’s my wife. She should be with me.

  “I want a divorce,” she says.

  Something bangs my head like an axe.

  “No fucking way,” I growl.

  She pulls forward, but I obstruct her way.

  “Get out of my way,” she hisses.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Daisy.”

  I won’t let her leave me. She’s my sanity. She’s my breath. She’s my life.

  “I love you, Daisy.”

  “Yeah really?”

  “I do love you. I’m just a stupid old wolf. Please, don’t leave me. I’ll do anything. Anything. Everything will be your way, I promise. Just don’t leave me.” I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around her ass, kissing her tummy. “Daisy, you’re my little rat, remember? My pretty little rat. I need you. I’ll do anything, I swear.”

  “Get off me.”

  I massage her ass and shower her tummy with kisses, licking her around the navel. “Daisy, my pretty little rat. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you anything. Everything you deserve.” I know this is the right moment to beg and to say all the things she wants to hear. “Please, one more chance. You won’t be disappointed. I’m gonna change, I promise. I’ll do anything.”

  A mischievous gleam pervades her glance. “Anything?”

  “You know I can’t live without you.”

  I’m gonna shoot myself dead the moment she leaves me. She’s everything to me.

  She nods. “Fuck me like I’m your wife not your kid. Love me like I’m your wife. Be my husband.”

  I growl. “That’s doable.” I rise to my feet.

  Our glances collide. My wife’s eyes are blazing like she’s an ancient warrior. I want to dominate that fierce warrior of hers. I’m gonna show her what being my wife means. She’ll whimper and she’ll beg for more.

  She steps forward as do I, and our lips meet hungrily.

  “A shower?” I say.

  “It’s too narrow,” she gasps.

  “Alright.”

  I know what to do to her.

  I remove my cut and t-shirt and toss them over the table.

  I turn her so her back rests against my chest and we bend. Her hands clutch the edge of the cupboard. I unbutton her jeans and lower them along with her panties, exposing her lush ass.

  With my hand on the back of her neck, I free my rock-hard cock with my other hand and guide it to her entrance. I push in and bury myself inside her to the root.

  She yelps and squirms, but I hold her in place. She needs this as much as I do. She needs it rough. And so do I.

  I grip her hip and fuck her hard.

  Our bodies sway together, my skin covered in her blood. The sound of our heavy breaths mingles with that of my balls slapping against her ass.

  I ram into her as her whimpers crescendo and turn into raspy mewling. I slam on her cervix with each thrust and I fuck her even harder until she trembles in satisfaction. Heat shoots to my toes and I cum hard. So hard there’s blackness in front of my eyes.

  Daisy

  I go to the bathroom and wash the blood away from my body. My muscles ache. My bottom is sore. I almost passed out when my husband fucked me. But it was wonderful.

  I know who he is. I know how to make him absolutely crazy about me.

  As I return to our bed, naked, Mike goes to have a shower. Ten minutes later, he lies down beside me, his body naked and still damp, hot like fire. He smells of mandarins and light sweat. Of primeval strength.

  A pleasant thought floats through my mind. I’m a wife to him. Excitement surges through me, and my heartbeat speeds up.

  “Tell me how much you love me,” I squeak.

  I need to hear these words from him.

  “I love you, little rat.” He kisses my cheek, my lips and my tit. “I haven’t finished yet.”

  “I know I’m hopeless. Very inexperienced. I’m a very inexperienced little girl.”

  “You’re everything to me.” He encloses me in his arms so my back rests against his chest and he nuzzles his nose against my hair, grunting, sniffing, and clearly enjoying me.

  God, it feels so good.

  His dick throbs against my thigh. My skin prickles. My nipples harden.

  “I’m not fragile, Mike. I can be tough.”

  “I’ve seen.” He grunts. “You’ve been really tough. Perfect.”

  “I’ll learn everything for you.”

  He grunts aga
in and bites my earlobe then his hand plunges between my thighs and he dips a finger into my pussy. My body shivers in anticipation.

  He pulls his finger out, rubs my pussy juices on my lower lip and kisses me, thrusting his tongue in. I turn into liquid hotness.

  “I’ll teach you everything,” he says, planting kisses from the corner of my mouth to my ear. “You’ll be my perfect little wife.”

  My pussy clenches at the primal hunger lurking in his voice.

  Mike kisses my shoulder and strokes my breast. His fingers roll my nipple, causing me pain. But it’s a good pain. I crave more. I crave darker.

  He turns me on my back and kisses a wet path down to my breast, drawing it fully into his mouth. His rough cheek scratches my skin as he suckles gently. My blood boils.

  His fingers brush against my mound and he cups my pussy.

  “You naughty girl,” he says.

  I want to be naughty for him.

  “Tell me to fuck you raw,” he says and grunts. “Tell me to punish you. You’ve been very naughty, Daisy.”

  I stiffen at his demand. “Mike?”

  He kisses my tummy, licking me around the navel and pushing a finger into my pussy.

  “Be a good girl, Daisy.”

  “I’ll be a good girl for you, Mike, I promise.”

  “Tell me to fuck you hard.”

  “Fuck me hard, please. I want to get fucked rough.”

  Wow. I can’t recognise myself. But I like this filth coming out of my mouth.

  Mike likes me like this too. He growls and pushes two fingers into my pussy. I moan, arching my back and teetering between pain and pleasure. He works me gently then pulls his digits out and pumps three of his fingers inside my pussy. I feel stretched. Delirious. Mike pulls out and runs one finger up to my tight opening.

  I know there is no going back. But I trust him entirely. I trust him with my life.

  I roll on my side, my back against his chest. I lift my knee, planting my heel on his thigh so my folded legs are spread wide for him, and he pushes his finger into my tight hole, knuckle deep. His thumb strokes my clitoris. I throw my hands behind me and sink my fingers into his hair. I immerse myself into this decadent sensation. It feels different. Foreign.

  Then it feels good.

  Mike fingers my two openings now and I feel like I’m rising. My muscles tense and relax as my pleasure builds in my core.