1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

by Kristen Ashley

  “You can’t win,” Shade taunted. “I’m stronger than you.”

  “I thought this was about superheroes,” I managed to say, shoving at his chest. He reached between us, grabbing my wrists and pinning them over my head one at a time, until both were held tight in one strong hand.

  “What are we, in kindergarten?” he asked, repeating my own words mockingly. Then he ground his hips into mine. The weight of his body pulled down the neck of my shirt and I knew all sorts of cleavage was on display.

  You can use this, my inner Wonder Woman whispered. Take back control. Do it for me and Hippolyta and all the other Amazons. Teach him a lesson. I wished I could but he had a point with the whole physics thing.

  I’ve never even owned a magic lasso, I told her mournfully.

  The sexy bastard causing all my trouble stayed silent, waiting me out.

  “One kiss,” I said finally, glaring. Shade smiled.

  “One kiss in exchange for what?”

  “Letting me go.”

  “I can just take a kiss and keep you here,” he said. “New deal. One kiss and you admit Wonder Woman would lose. Then I’ll let you go.”

  “Absolutely not. No kiss, no admission,” I countered. “In exchange, you let me go and I won’t press charges for assault.”

  Shade burst out laughing. “Pretty ballsy for someone stuck in the middle of a Reapers’ clubhouse without a cell phone or a ride home.”

  He made a good point.

  Think about what I’d do in this situation, Wonder Woman said firmly. Are you really going to let this biker win? Kick his ass!

  Unfortunately, my best thinking parts were all drunk, which meant that the non-thinking parts—specifically those between my legs—were taking over fast. They sort of liked the idea of Batman in charge, and Shade was already dressed in black and everything. Behave, I instructed them firmly.

  “One kiss with tongue,” I countered. “I won’t give up Wonder Woman, but I won’t press charges, either.”

  “One kiss with tongue,” he replied, eyes darkening. “And you sleep with me tonight. I don’t really give a fuck about Wonder Woman.”

  “Sleep with you?” I hissed. “Oh, hell no. I’m not that drunk.”

  “Not sex. Just sleep. Right here in this bed, with me. All night.”

  “No sex.”

  “No sex unless you want it,” he said, and my breath caught because I sort of did want it.

  “All right,” I replied. When his head lowered toward mine I could hardly breathe, I was so excited. His last kiss had been rough, almost brutal. Now his lips were soft, nipping and nibbling at mine. I opened for him, expecting the kiss to deepen. Instead he touched the corner of my mouth, rubbing his nose alongside mine before drifting down along my jawline.

  When his mouth found the spot right below my ear I nearly called bullshit, but it felt so good. Warm tingles ran through my stomach and my nipples hardened. Shade slid down a few inches, pushing my knees apart with his as he settled more firmly between my legs, my hands still held prisoner over my head. His cock pushed directly against my center. I sighed.

  This was good. Really good.

  Then he caught my earlobe between his lips and my head spun, a mixture of lust and booze making it almost impossible to think.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  This was happening, I realized. I was actually going to have sex with this man unless I did something to stop it right now because he wanted me. Bad. I wanted him, too, and despite the fact that I hadn’t officially broken up with Rebel yet, that relationship was definitely over.

  Would it really be such a horrible idea to sleep with him?

  He gave Rebel a $500 discount off a bike to fuck you, Wonder Woman reminded me coldly. And he thinks Batman could beat me and we both know that’s bullshit. Are you a goddess of war or not?

  Shade’s tongue slid into my mouth as his hand caught the edge of my shirt, tugging it upward. My head spun because he tasted amazing. Whiskey and smoke and sex and…five hundred dollars to fuck me.

  Shut it down, Wonder Woman demanded. You have sex with him tonight and you’re officially a prostitute. A cheap prostitute. You think I’d fuck Batman for anything less than ten grand?

  Damn it, she was right. I twisted my head, breaking the kiss. Shade followed, trying to catch my lips. I caught his with my teeth instead, biting him hard enough to draw blood. His head jerked back and he stared down at me, panting.

  “You want this as bad as I do.”

  “I said one kiss. It’s over,” I insisted, wishing my voice wasn’t so breathless and eager. “Don’t make me bite you again.”

  Shade closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. His cock pulsed against me and it took everything I had not to grind up against him.

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered, opening his eyes again. “Jesus Christ but you’re a fucking tease.”

  “I am not. The agreement was one kiss with tongue.”

  Wonder Woman nodded proudly.

  Shade rolled off, sitting up on the bed to face away from me, running a hand through his hair.

  “I need to get the fuck outta here,” he snapped. Then he stood and made for the door.

  “Wait!” I said, reality crushing down around me. I couldn’t have sex with him but that didn’t change the situation—I was alone in the Reapers’ clubhouse, completely at the club’s mercy. “Am I still safe here?”

  Shade turned on me, two hundred pounds plus of pissed-off male, and I scrambled back against the wall behind the bed.

  The same wall he’d punched a hole through with his bare hand.

  “Yeah, you’re safe,” he said coldly. “Not gonna rape you, Mandy. Not gonna roofie you. Not gonna murder you or tie you to the bed or even fucking kiss you again unless you ask, because unlike your piece of shit boyfriend, I’m a real man and I don’t fucking abuse women. You win. I’ll give you a ride home tomorrow and you’ll never have to see me again. Happy?”

  He turned away without waiting for an answer, slamming the door behind him as he left the room. This left me alone to gloat over my victory. He was right—I’d won. A full-on triumph for me and Wonder Woman. Somehow it just didn’t quite feel like one, though.

  I’m also kind of lonely, she admitted.

  Fucking bitch.

  She could’ve mentioned that earlier.

  Chapter Five

  My head throbbed as I stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

  What the hell?

  A thick, muscular arm shifted under me, tucking me into a man’s torso. My head rested against him like a pillow. Too muscular to be Rebel, and he didn’t smell quite right. Not bad, just…different.

  Shade.

  The night came back in a rush, everything from what Rebel had done to how the big Reaper’s kiss had turned me inside out. Wonder Woman was mixed up in there somehow, but I couldn’t quite remember how. Nothing weird about that. At any rate, Shade had left after I turned him down, but not before promising that I’d be safe. And I had been. I’d sat and stewed for a while, then awarded myself another drink and passed out.

  Sometime in the night, he must’ve come back.

  Shouldn’t have had so much booze, I thought, blinking at the harsh sunlight. Wait. Sunlight. It was morning, which meant my sister would be headed to work soon.

  I needed to get my ass home in time to watch the kids…unless it was too late already.

  Shit.

  There wasn’t a clock in the room, or a phone. I needed to call her ASAP and let her know I hadn’t flaked, except I sort of had flaked. Not on purpose, though.

  Fucking Rebel, setting me up and then leaving me stranded here.

  Something stirred against my leg, which was draped over Shade’s body. Some of his parts were less asleep than others, because that was some impressive morning wood poking my thigh. He’d promised to give me a ride in the morning.

  This wasn’t the kind of ride I’d been thinking of.

  Might be a good idea to fi
nd a phone before waking him up. Maybe pull myself together and figure out a plan so that my sister didn’t end up having to choose between her kids and her job. Goddamn men. None of this would’ve happened if we’d stayed single.

  If there was one thing we should’ve learned by now, it was that McBride women couldn’t pick men for shit. Our mom had been married five times, and not one of them had been worth keeping. Both Hannah and I had struck out, too, although at least I hadn’t gotten left to raise three kids by myself. Not that I’d trade my little nieces for anything on earth, but still… Men hadn’t exactly been a force for good in our lives.

  So. First thing—find a phone and call Hannah. Then figure out how to get home. Shade had promised me a lift, but I didn’t want to wake him up. Not yet. Not in bed with a stiffy of that magnitude.

  Sliding out from under his arm very carefully, I dropped my feet to the floor and grabbed my bag. The room looked smaller in the daylight. Dingier, too. Shade might have a few things thrown around, but it obviously wasn’t a full-time home. More of a place to crash. Reminded me of my corner of the bedroom at Hannah’s place. Her ex’s parents had let her stay in the little trailer that she’d shared with Randy rent free, but there wasn’t a hell of a lot of extra room. I kept my stuff in a suitcase and slept on the couch most nights. She insisted we could share the bed, but there was almost always at least one kid in there with us. Nothing quite like three-year-old twins kicking your kidneys to keep you awake and alert all night long.

  The couch was a lot more restful.

  Easing open the door, I started down the deserted hallway. There had to be a phone around here somewhere, right? Most of the doors were closed, although a couple had been left open. I glanced in one to find the two girls from the hall last night buck naked on a bed with a biker I’d never seen before.

  Damn.

  Those girls got around.

  I reached the end of the bunkhouse and let myself out into the courtyard, which was full of debris from the party. The fire pit gave off an anemic trail of smoke. Red cups littered the ground, and toward the back I spotted three little tents. Guess they’d had company from out of town. This probably held some significance, but damned if I knew what it might be. The back door of the clubhouse was unlocked, so I let myself in and headed toward the main room, where I finally found signs of life.

  Specifically, there was a girl about my age wandering around, picking up garbage and throwing it into a white plastic kitchen bag.

  “Grab the broom, will you? And the dustpan. There’s a broken bottle back here,” she said without looking at me. I glanced around, wondering where the broom might be.

  “Hey—who the hell are you?” asked someone else, and I looked up to find one of the guys, a younger one who didn’t have a Reaper’s vest, stepping through a side door. The girl spun around and raised her eyebrows, clearly startled.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought it was Samantha. She must be back in the kitchen.”

  “You didn’t answer the question,” he told me, ignoring the girl. “You look familiar. Where do I know you from?”

  “I’m Mandy McBride,” I said, swallowing uncomfortably. “I work at the Pit. Waitress.”

  “You’re the waitress?” the girl asked, looking me over with a critical eye. “I heard all about you last night. Shade know you’re leaving?”

  “Shade’s asleep,” I said. “I just need to use a phone. I’m supposed to be watching my sister’s kids this morning while she works. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “It’s about seven,” the girl replied slowly. “And there’s a phone on the wall. But I think you should check with Shade before you do anything. He might have plans—”

  I was already grabbing the phone, a battered, old-fashioned beast with a long, coiled cord. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen anything like it, but it worked.

  “Hello,” said a small, soft voice. My five-year-old niece, Callie, had answered. Knowing my luck, Hannah was in the shower.

  “Hey baby,” I replied, careful not to let any of my frustration into my voice. “This is Auntie Mandy. Is Mommy around?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “Can you go wake her up?”

  “She said to be quiet. Her head hurts.”

  Oh, shit. Hannah had gotten migraines ever since she was a little girl. Not sort-of-uncomfortable-but-manageable-with-Tylenol migraines, but full-on, knock-you-on-your-ass-after-hallucinating-and-puking-for-hours migraines.

  “Have you had any breakfast?” I asked, trying not to panic. Callie was the oldest. She could help the twins get some cereal, maybe turn on the TV until I got home. It was either that or call Randy, and he was worse than useless. Hannah had finally kicked his sorry ass out when she learned he’d been selling drugs while he was supposed to be watching the kids.

  His parents were theoretically willing to help, but his dad was stuck in a wheelchair and his mom was legally blind. Thus the need for my relocation…

  “Yeah, we ate some Cheerios and a candy bar,” Callie said proudly. “I cooked it in the microwave and it was soft and yummy. The twins want to go outside and play in the dirt. I told them Mommy wouldn’t like that.”

  “You’re right—definitely stay inside,” I replied, thinking fast. “Turn on the TV, but keep it quiet so it doesn’t hurt Mommy’s head. I’ll get home as fast as I can. Until then, don’t bother Mommy unless it’s an emergency. You remember what an emergency is?”

  “Yes,” she said gravely. “If there’s blood or someone can’t breathe or there’s a fire.”

  “And do you open the door?”

  “Only to a firefighter or the police. Not for Daddy, even if he’s being nice.”

  My heart caught, because it wasn’t fair that a kid so young should have to deal with shit like this.

  “All right, then,” I told her, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “You’re doing great. I’ll get home as fast as I can. You watch your sisters until then.”

  “I’m a big girl. I can do it.”

  I hung up the phone, running a hand through my hair, my own headache growing steadily worse. I felt like I should call someone, but who? The girls were safe and the last thing Hannah needed was an investigation from CPS. Given the whole single-mom thing—combined with the fact that she was an outsider and their dad was the local drug dealer—she didn’t look so good on paper. But she was a good mom. A really good mom.

  Just get your ass back to the trailer and things will be fine.

  But how was I going to do that?

  “Everything all right?” the girl asked, looking concerned. She had big raccoon eyes from smears of makeup and was still wearing a teeny tank top with a push-up bra from the night before, but a sort of innate kindness still shined through.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I need to get back home.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Violetta.”

  “You shouldn’t leave without talking to Shade first,” the guy said, and his voice was firm. His hair was all flattened on one side where he’d passed out—probably on one of the couches lining the room—but despite the silly hair, I didn’t want to mess with him.

  “He said he’d give me a ride—” I told him. Then someone started pounding on the main door, startling the hell out of me. Instantly three men I hadn’t noticed (had they been sleeping on the couches?) were on their feet, one of them looking through the peephole while another stood ready by the door.

  “It’s that tool, Rebel,” one of them said, glancing toward me. “He’s your boyfriend, right?”

  Damn, gossip spread fast in this place.

  “Ex-boyfriend,” I said grimly. My fury from the night before came rushing back, mixing with my worry about the girls and the pain of my headache to create a roar in my ears. I couldn’t fix things for my sister. I had no clue how I was going to get home and I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around what’d happened, but one thing was very clear in my mind.

&nb
sp; Rebel needed his ass kicked, and I was just the girl to do it.

  Chapter Six

  Shade

  “Boss, we got a situation with your girl.”

  I woke instantly, reaching for the gun I kept under the bed as I rolled to my feet. It was an old habit, one that’d scared the shit out of more than one woman, but it’d served me well during my years as a club enforcer.

  Nowadays, I always traveled with security—one of the many “perks” of being national president. Got on my nerves in a big way. I also understood the reasoning behind it. Nothing throws a club into chaos like seeing their president gunned down, or worse, taken hostage. Not that the brothers would be stupid enough to give in to any demands if it happened, but they’d kill themselves trying to rescue me. Taking on the job meant losing some freedom, which sucked.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea already. Mandy was gone, and seeing as she had no transportation, that meant she had to be wandering around the clubhouse. Nobody would give her a ride without my permission.

  Fucking hell, but that bitch had me tied in knots.

  Why I gave a shit about her I had no fuckin’ idea, but I knew one thing for sure—I wouldn’t be happy until I was balls deep in that sweet snatch of hers. Fuckin’ hated watching the eyes that followed her at the bar. Every man in the place wanted a piece of that. I hated them all, but I hated Rebel more than the rest combined because at the end of the day, he was the one hitting that.

  He’d been mouthing off last night about how tight her asshole was, and when he’d offered her to me, I’d known it was a bad idea to say yes… But I wanted her. Wanted her bad. Bad enough to drag her back to the clubhouse, despite the fact that I knew it wouldn’t end well.

  Every second of the ride had been hell. Half of me wanted to howl at the moon in triumph because I was finally gonna fuck this woman who’d been driving me crazy. The other half wanted to kill someone, because apparently she loved that fuckwit loser so much that she’d pimp herself out for him.