The Bastard (Baddest Boys in History)

by Inez Kelley

  A sharp knock burst into their soft-focused world. Lacy excused herself and went to the front door. A brawny State Trooper touched his hat brim. The late fall dusk was still bright enough that she had no need for the porch light but his face was shadowy.

  “Lacy Cooper? Could you step outside a few minutes? I have some questions for you regarding your attack.”

  The screen door latch was hard but Erik’s grip was harder, crushing her fingers. “Don’t.”

  “What are you doing?” He thrust her behind him. She shoved at him but it was like trying to move a semi. “Erik, you can’t interfere with a police investigation.”

  “Watch me,” he snarled, his rabid glare locked on the officer.

  The Trooper bristled. “You need to step aside, dog.”

  Erik’s low chuckle sounded like a dare. “Bow fucking wow.”

  The Trooper’s eyes narrowed but he spoke to her. “Ma’am, I need you to come outside right now or I’ll arrest you.”

  A thread of panic shot through her as Erik widened his stance. Lacy sucked in a harsh gasp at the lethal knife now clutched in his hand. He drew a weapon on a State Trooper? They were so going to jail. “Erik, move!”

  “He’s not a real cop, Lacy.”

  She did a quick inventory through the screen: uniform, badge, big freakin’ gun. Yep, cop.

  “He’s one of Sam’s group.” Erik’s tone was soft, deadly and taunting.

  “Are you sure?” Shivers spread along her bones. The last thing she wanted was to walk into her death at the hand of a psycho cult. The second to last thing she wanted was to go to jail for disobeying an officer.

  “Check him out. Call 911.”

  She reached for her cell and the Trooper growled. “Come out and play with me, mutt.”

  “Love to, but I’m not leaving her alone.”

  The wooden doorframe rattled as he slammed his hands against it. “The Master wants her and he will have her.”

  “Not while I’m here.” Erik raised his knife. “Tell your Master to suck my dick.”

  Furious glittering eyes speared her over Erik’s shoulder. The fading light played tricks with her mind and she thought a forked tongue slicked along his lip as the not-real-Trooper grinned with cold promise. “See you soon, Lacy.”

  He tipped his hat, turned and left, with a cocky swagger to his step. Erik didn't lower his knife until the Trooper walked out of sight-range. He slammed the door, clicking the lock. Lacy’s knees started knocking. Erik caught her arm as she swayed. He led her to the couch and pushed her down, lowering his frame beside hers and setting his knife on the coffee table. “Breathe.”

  “He said he was… He had a badge.”

  “Any jackass can get a badge online.”

  A violent tremor shuddered through her. She couldn’t trust anyone, not even the police. Erik tugged her close, wrapping his arms around her and she corrected herself. She could trust him.

  “If you hadn’t —”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe.”

  His arms felt like the safest place in the world. She’d never been this close to anyone as big as he was. It made her feel feminine and tiny, things she’d given up ever feeling somewhere around age sixteen. His chest was rock-hard against her breasts, his arms like steel around her, but his hands were gentle, stroking her back as if she were a kitten. An electric crackle danced up her spine. Someone wanted her dead. She didn’t know why or even who really. She only knew that nothing would hurt her while Erik held her. He was her hero.

  Security made her brave and she lifted her face from the curve of his neck, bringing her eyes to his. The matching hunger on his face made her braver and her fingers brushed his jaw. Sharp tiny bites from barely seen whiskers pricked her skin. The fullness along his bottom lip enchanted her and she stroked it.

  His breath grew shallow and hot against her finger. “Be careful what you wish for, Lace.”

  Lace. He shortened her name and gave it an elegance, an intricacy. He made her name beautiful, delicate and fragile, things she’d never been. “What am I wishing for, Erik?”

  “Whatever it is, I’m not it.” Regret darkened his eyes to shale. “I’m not a good guy. I’m not a hero.”

  “You are to me.”

  He gave her every chance. His body moved with power and grace, each action signaling his intent, but she never shied away. All reservations, if there had been any, melted away as he tipped her chin higher with his knuckle.

  Warm and solid yet light as a butterfly’s landing, his lips grazed hers. They halted as if to pull away but returned and grazed once more. He let his lips glide over hers until they parted then stole inside like a shiver at midnight. That shiver started at her neck and shimmied down her spine until it hit between her legs with a tingling heat.

  He tasted each corner of her mouth and a connection sparked, snapped and forged. In a single kiss, they melded. He didn’t try to shove his tongue down her throat or scrape her teeth or paw her. The demands on her lips just increased to nips and nibbles. His palm slid along her waist and tingles spread to her breasts. Full and aching, they swelled, longing for his touch.

  Eric lowered her onto the couch cushions, brought his body down atop hers, never lifting his mouth from hers. His hands cupped her breasts before sliding under her shirt. The sensitive skin tingled under his caress. Her inhale breathed his scent deep into her lungs, carrying Erik deep inside her soul.

  Skittering along her lip, his tongue shot into her mouth. Her hands feathered through his hair. Wet heat pulsed between her legs. Gripped by some possessed lust-demon, she rocked her ache against his thigh.

  He moaned. Soft and low, the vibration tickled along her lips. He shifted and pain lanced through her. A hiss escaped from her mouth.

  Erik jerked back. “Shit.”

  “It’s okay. My ribs are just really sore.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have kissed you at all.” Wiping a huge hand across his face, he sat up and took a deep breath. “And I shouldn’t be thinking of doing it again.”

  Lacy dipped her head to hide her smile. She sat up and snuggled closer to his chest. “Why not? I’m thinking the same thing. But I’m all bruised and banged up. Can I have a rain check for when I heal up?”

  He shifted, put his arm around her and cradled her. “I hope you heal fast.”

  Lacy giggled and reached for the remote. For hours, they watched mindless TV but he never once let her go. Her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off, sure that as long as Erik held her, she was safe.

  There was something to be said for falling asleep with a woman in your arms. Vike missed that. He could’ve slept, if he thought about it and made it happen. His body didn’t crave sleep like it once had. Now sleep only pressed down when he needed to heal. Healing wasn’t what he needed, but he wished he could succumb, to slip into the normal warmth of entwined limbs and just…be.

  Lacy murmured in her sleep and rubbed her cheek against his chest. The living room was quiet, the muted TV offering the only illumination. He could barely see her bruises in this light but knew they were there. Just as he knew her lips were swollen from his kisses. He never should have kissed her. It stirred far too many things in him that were better left stilled. One sip of her mouth and he was a goner.

  The beating, the medication and the shock of the Third coming to the door had sapped Lacy of strength, and she’d drifted to sleep before the news. It was no hardship to hold her. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he held a woman like this, in tenderness, in comfort, just cradling her while she slept. Certainly long before he died. His wife had shut him out of her bedchamber years before she had brought about his death.

  A buzz echoed and he shifted until he could reach into his pocket. The text screen glowed with a bright illumination.

  Blood tests R shit. Bring DNA. D’s got watch.

  “Erik?”

  Sleep tinged Lacy’s voice. He bit back a curse. For a little while, he’d
forgotten that she was at risk, that he could still be ordered to kill her. Forgetting was dangerous.

  “That was my job calling me in.”

  He scooted away, hating the distance he had to put between them, and shoved the phone in his pocket. Lacy squinted at the clock. “Now? After midnight?”

  He rose from the couch and parted the curtain, eyes scanning the darkness. Dray stood across the street, half hidden by a thick tree trunk. “Yeah, I’m kind of on call.”

  “What if those guys come back?”

  Copper filled his mouth as he bit his cheek against a snarl. The others would watch her, but some possessive urge insisted he do it himself. Lacy made him feel good, something he didn’t want to examine too closely.

  He motioned with his head toward the street. “We have a guy stationed outside. Nothing is going to happen.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  Her disappointment nearly brought him to his knees. She looked so alone. He sat to put his boots on, the cushion sagging under his weight. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  A soft smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Come back?”

  “I’ll be here in the morning.”

  “Sorry for falling asleep on you.”

  “Don’t be.” He fought the urge to kiss her again, to pretend he had no cell service and hadn’t gotten the text. “You can use me as a pillow any time.”

  Her sleep-husky voice deepened. “That sounds promising.”

  Nothing on Earth could have prevented him taking her mouth. She tasted of sleep and promises unfulfilled. Nimble fingers skated up his chest, curling around his neck. It would be so easy to lay her back, peel the clothes from between them and sink into her body as his tongue did to her mouth. His cock twitched in his jeans. Damn, if she started sending him those kinds of signals again, he’d never get out of here.

  “Stop.” Pulling away, he shook his head. “Damn, woman, I have to remember how to tie my shoes here.”

  The humor worked as he intended and she giggled. He hadn’t forgotten how to tie, but bending over with a half-erection wasn’t pleasant. It did the job of refocusing his mind though.

  Until her hand landed on his back. She meant it as a friendly, flirting gesture he was sure, but a shiver skated along his muscles. Even through his shirt, his Forsaken Mark quivered at her touch, singing to her blood. She jerked her hand away from the static crackle.

  “Oops, sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. It had felt more than okay. It had felt incredible.

  He refocused on his bootlaces. Her fingers slid to his arm, pushed up his sleeve and traced his tattoo. “I’ve seen a lot of tattoos, but never one like this.”

  “Yeah, it’s one of a kind.” The tattoos all Awoken carried were different, personal weapons to kill their enemies, forever imprinted on their skin. But the identical hand-shaped burns were a reminder that Sela had Awoken them for a purpose and they had to guard each other’s backs.

  The Righteous carried the Marks on their hearts, a reminder to stay true to their vows. In order to survive, the Forsaken had to learn to trust each other. He could trust no one but his team, not even Lacy.

  “The axe is weird, it looks used. The ones I’m used to seeing are like new.”

  His axe had been well used — sliced through so much flesh and bone. The nicked and scarred Dane axe was fitting for the Bloodaxe. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course not.” She motioned toward the hall. Vike made a quick escape and stared in the bathroom mirror. He never fucking learned, ever. The last woman who’d made him feel this way, created this tender need to wrap her in safety and bask in her attentions, had gotten him a sword to the gut. He’d laid on that battlefield, his life draining away into the dirt, and known that she’d done this.

  His wife had betrayed him. She’d taken his love and hidden behind it, hidden her lust for power, for position. He’d been blind to her manipulations, following his heart and not his head. Now his dick was leading him down that same path again.

  He glared at his reflection. “You are pretending to like her, asshole. Remember that. Don’t think this is genuine. She doesn’t know the real you.”

  Two Band-aids on top of the trashcan sported a dark brown stain. DNA. Lacy’s Holy bloodline. She was his mission, nothing more. He had to remember that. His very dead but very aching soul depended on it.

  He folded the bandages into a square of toilet paper and shoved it in his pocket. On the sink, he found her medication and the after-care instructions. He carried them back into the living room.

  “Here, take these.” He sat on the coffee table and handed her two tablets.

  “I think some Tylenol would be fine.”

  “Lace, please.” Amazing how lying came so easy in the dark. “I don’t want to think about you hurting. Please, for me, take them.”

  Her eyes rounded as she took the tablets from his hand. “You’re sweet.”

  Sweet? No, he was selfish. If she was drugged, no Leech could get to her. That meant he’d get to see her again. He shouldn’t. He should let the others protect her. But he didn’t want to. He handed her the water bottle she’d left on the side table. She swallowed the medicine as he pulled a business card from his wallet.

  “This is my cell. My team is right outside, but they won’t bother you unless there’s trouble. Just rest and trust me to take care of things.”

  “I do trust you.”

  He gave her a smile that felt plastic. She had to trust him and he couldn’t trust her.

  Metal scrapped at the door lock. Vike grabbed his dagger off the coffee table and surged to a stand. The front door opened. Lacy’s sister ripped a can of pepper spray out of her bag, aiming it toward his face. “Get away from her, asshole!”

  “Whoa!” He angled backward.

  “Annie, no,” Lacy cried, jumping from the couch.

  The small canister lowered but Annie’s eyes remained alert. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Look. I’m putting it away.” He couldn’t send the dagger back to his tattoo so, slapping a fake smile on his face, he shoved the blade in the back of his pants then held his empty hands up. “Everything is fine now.”

  “Fine? I have no idea who you are and you’re standing over my sister with a fucking knife. How is this fine?”

  “Vike Ulfhedinn.” He extended his hand. “I met Lacy when she was attacked. I drove her home from hospital.”

  Annie’s mouth softened as she tucked the pepper spray back into her bag. She reached out, accepting his hand. “You’re the hero.”

  “Not really.”

  Annie’s bag slid off her shoulder to the chair. “Then can you pretend to be a hero and do me a favor? There’s this idiot across the street looking at the house. I was going to call the police but… well, you’re a big guy. And you owe me for freaking me out. Can you ask him to leave? He’s creepy.”

  Biting back a groan, he looked at Lacy for help. She was yawning and missed his silent plea. “Actually, he is watching the house, but it’s okay. Lacy’ll explain. I have to get to work.”

  He slid out of the door before Lacy could answer. Better she feed the false-preacher story to her sister than him. He crossed the street, making a beeline for Dray.

  “Asshole,” he muttered.

  “What?” Dray asked around a Jolly Rancher candy that turned the inside of his lips blue.

  “The sister asked me to tell the creepy guy across the street to leave. This is your idea of low profile?”

  “No, this is my idea of scoping out a hot set of boobs. That sister is stacked. She called me creepy?” Night wind played with Dray’s long hair. “Bitch.”

  “Just be a little more discreet, okay?” Vike turned toward his truck, digging his keys from his pocket.

  “Hey, Viking,” Dray laughed. “Next time you play tonsil hockey with the Cake, might want to be a little more discreet and close the curtains.”

  Vike gunned the engine and flipped him off. />
  Chapter Five

  “Peasants.” Dark sunglasses hid Rex’s eyes, but nothing could hide the disgusted set to his mouth. “I’m surrounded by peasants.”

  “It’s a country fair. They haven’t changed in ages, get over it,” Vike grumped.

  Despite the gaiety around him, he was in a bad mood. Yesterday had been easy. Lacy was sore enough to be content indoors with him. They’d watched stupid movies, played some idiotic video game and exchanged a thousand and one kisses. But she couldn’t be penned up any longer. She’d insisted that as long as he was there to guard her, she felt well enough and owed the Children’s Home her volunteer hours for their annual fundraising fair.

  He’d tried his best to get Lacy to stay home. He’d brought her breakfast from a local sandwich shop. He’d kissed and nuzzled and petted her, trying to change her mind. He’d faked interest in a football game and asked her to watch with him. Nothing worked.

  He should have slapped her silly and locked her ass in the house. But he couldn’t do that while pretending to be charming. Charming sucked dick. Charming could get her killed.

  Stubborn wench. Lacy had no damn business trying to have a damn normal life when her Holy soul was in damn jeopardy. Of course, he couldn’t damn well tell her that so here he stood, in the middle of a damn country fair pretending they were on a damn date.

  Damn.

  Autumn sunshine and crisp mountain air carried the scent of apple butter bubbling in huge metal cauldrons over open fires. The early-week fair crowd was thick, but would grow thicker later in the week. The shaded overhang of the concessions booth she ran couldn’t hide the bruises any more than the makeup she’d put on this morning. Her dedication to the Children’s Home was one thing, but she was risking her eternal soul and didn’t even know it. He wanted to whisk her away, keep her away from things that went hiss.

  “What the hell is that God-awful racket? It sounds like a cat with its balls in a vice.”

  Vike paused, listening. “Rascal Flatts and I like it, shut up.”

  “Vikings, the rednecks of the ancient world.”

  “And the Romans wore dresses.”