by Dani Wyatt
The arraignment went well, and ironically my previous convictions kind of helped. My lawyer was able to show a pattern of Wrath doesn’t give a fuck and prove I wasn’t a flight risk. I’ve never run from anything in my life, and that made for a pretty convincing argument.
The judge was convinced, anyway, and that’s all that really matters. Despite the prosecution’s complaints, he agreed to bail. Chain posted it, I walked, and we went back to my place to get my bike.
That’s when I lost it.
It was the last place I saw her, wrapped in nothing but my bed sheet, and the knowledge that she wasn’t there anymore hit me hard. I started tearing into my own things, toppling my kitchen table and throwing anything I could lay my hands on: saucepans, mugs, cutlery. I went into the bedroom, and seeing my own clothes strewn across the floor, with hers missing, broke me.
Chain and Bulldog had to drag me out of there, kicking and screaming, then Bulldog went back inside while Chain held me down and before I knew it we were all on the road again, heading over here. I’ve got a bag with essentials, I’ve got my vest with my patches, and apparently I’m going to be sleeping at the bar for the next few days.
Probably for the best.
Except being so close to where she sleeps, and not being there next to her, is killing me.
“Wrath, man, drink your beer. Numb the pain.” Saint taps the table in front of me. “Trust me, dude, it’ll be better that way.”
I grunt, pushing my chair back. “Taking a piss.”
Turning, I ignore them all as I stomp out to the back of the bar where the toilets are located near the half-blocked fire escape. I don’t even need to take a leak, I just need to clear my head away from everyone else. Crates are piled high by the metal door, no doubt filled with contraband of some sort, and somehow it makes me think of her. Kristina is my contraband. It shouldn’t work between us, it shouldn’t be allowed. I’m way too bad and she’s way too good. But somehow I’m addicted, and the idea of walking the straight and narrow path without her just doesn’t sit with me.
Taking a glance over my shoulder, I check nobody’s looking, then I head for the door. It’s supposed to be alarmed, but it’s been faulty and I know nobody’s gotten around to fixing it. I push down on the metal bar and head out into the sunlight.
Somehow, I’ve got to let her know she’s mine.
I AM GOING TO HAVE serious words with this girl about leaving her place unlocked. It’s like they all just trust that God is going to protect them or something. Fuck, I’m a believer, but I also believe that God helps those who help themselves, and they’re just begging Him to reach down and smite them.
Even so, I have to admit it’s convenient. I’m inside their place and already I can feel myself growing calmer as I sense her lingering presence. There are touches of her everywhere here, little highlights in the décor, a softer scent where she’s been, ice cream and frozen pizza in the refrigerator.
It’s soothing to be near her, and I don’t really care that my bail conditions specifically forbade coming this close to the church.
I don’t spend time exploring the house though. There’s only one place I want to be.
Heading to the back of the house, I find her bedroom easily, and duck inside. The house itself might be old fashioned, but there’s a distinct youthfulness about this room. I even smile when I see her Batman duvet and pillow set.
Pulling out drawers, I eventually find what I’m looking for: a pen and notepaper, and I sit down to write a quick note, but before I’m done I hear the rumble of an engine coming around outside.
Fuck. It’s them.
Her father gets out of the car first, followed by pastor junior.
“Get out of the car, Kristina.” Her father sounds exasperated.
A moment later, the back door opens and she steps out. I don’t like the fact that they’ve made my girl travel in the back. She should be up front, where she belongs.
She turns my way, and I duck down, confused. It’s like she knows I’m there. Like some sixth-sense connection between the two of us.
Pastor junior’s voice carries to me a moment later. “Let’s all just get inside, shall we?”
“Fuck,” I mutter, glancing around. If I try to get out of the house now, there’s no way I won’t be seen.
I hastily finish the note, put it next to the bed where I think she’ll find it, then take off my patch vest and fold it on top. Then I unlock the window, glance around to make sure nobody’s looking, and slide out, pulling it down behind me.
With any luck, nobody but Kristina will know I’ve been here.
“WRATH, I’M HEADING home for the night. You good to lock up behind me?”
Saint has stayed here with me all afternoon and evening, and I know he’s tired of my sorry ass. It’s not like I’ve been much company. Haven’t even drunk, except water, and despite his attempts to start conversations to pull my eyes away from the pastor’s house across the road, nothing has worked. I watched pastor junior leave about an hour ago, so it can’t be long now...
“Sure, whatever.”
“Okay. Well. See you tomorrow, I guess.”
“Yep.”
There’s silence for a moment, then he turns and leaves, and a few seconds later I hear the rumble of his bike as he tears out of the parking lot.
But I don’t do anything. I just keep watching. And sure enough, not long after he’s gone I see the lights go out in her house. First the front room. Then the kitchen. Then one of the bedrooms. And finally, her bedroom.
And that’s when I make my move.
Leaving the bar unattended, I head over the road and around to her bedroom window. I know I left it unlocked, and with any luck Kristina hasn’t noticed. I try it, and it slides easily, and a moment later I’m inside.
Her bedroom is dark, but the moonlight shines on her beautiful face, and for a moment I don’t know if I can stay here. She’s too much. I’m not good enough for this sweet girl.
But logic and reason aren’t in control right now. I need her. I want her. And nothing is going to come between us.
I step across the room, and lean down next to her face, just watching her breathing. Then I carefully, but quickly clasp my hand over her mouth.
She mumbles a scream as her eyes snap wide, but I make a shushing noise and shake my head.
“It’s me. Wrath. I didn’t do what they’re saying I did. You have to believe me, Kristina. I’m going to find out who did though, and I’m going to make them pay. Believe me, anyone that would put you in danger like that is going to learn the meaning of my nickname.”
I let go of her mouth and she raises her voice. “What the fu—”
Clasping my hand back over her mouth to silence her, I can’t help the grin that spreads over my own face as she struggles a little against me. It’s fucking cute, and it only makes me want her more. “Quiet, little girl, you want to wake the whole household?”
I see the resignation in her eyes and she nods her compliance, so I let go.
“What are you doing here?” She whispers. “You need to leave, right now, or I’m going to call the cops. You know you can’t be here.”
“I belong here.” It’s all I can manage before I’ve got her naked, my mouth between her legs and she’s covering her own mouth to keep from waking the dead.
Once she’s panting and practically clawing my clothes off, I flip her over and get her on the floor so the bad bed doesn’t put a dent in the wall and drive into her, giving her my fury and my love all in the form of my needy, obsessed dick until we fall into a heap on the floor.
I get her settled into bed after a few minutes, snuggle next to her until she’s breathing low and even. I have shit to take care of, so I leave her a note, telling her I had an emergency, but I’m coming back for her. That I’ll always come back for her then I slip out of the window getting my phone out to make some calls and get things set up for what I know is coming.
10 | Kristina
My h
eadache is back as I carry the eight plastic bags of groceries into the house, hearing my mother’s voice in my head chastising me for forgetting to bring the re-usable bags with me when I left.
I can’t think. I can still feel the soreness from the fucking Wrath gave me last night. It was part pleasure, but it was more.
I’m ashamed that I enjoyed the darkness and his force more than I could have imagined. After all, I’m an intelligent, independent woman. How could I enjoy a man that covered my mouth, basically told me what was about to happen and in the end let it?
Even when I was fighting him, I knew it was a bit of a game. I liked the fight. I hate myself for it, but it’s true. I loved when he pinned me down, the way he pushed between my legs and before I knew it he was inside of me.
The gentleness of our first time at his house was gone. He was fucking me. Pure and simple. Using me for his pleasure, and to prove a point.
I belonged to him. He didn’t even need to tell me, I knew it the first time he kissed me.
I let out a heavy breath as I put the milk and eggs in the refrigerator, then unpack the rest of the bags on the counter and get warm as I move, each step reminding me of the beast-sized cock Wrath knows how to use so well.
I’m putting my blueberry frozen waffles in the freezer and feeling my panties getting wet as I replay last night in my mind when a loud voice makes me slam the door shut and practically jump out of my sandals.
“What the hell is this?” Rage once again reddens my father’s face as I stare at the black leather vest he’s holding up, along with an unfolded piece of paper I recognize from the light green and pink lined pad on the desk in my bedroom.
“I—” I start looking at the vest, then at my father. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? We both know what it is. Don’t play dumb, Kristina, we both know you are far from dumb.”
“I mean, I know what it is, I don’t know why you have it...”
“It was under your bed.”
“What were you doing under my bed?”
“You’ve not been acting like yourself. I was looking for clues. Maybe you’re on drugs. I don’t know. And this?” He holds up the piece of paper, turning it toward me, and I see the thick letters written in black pen. I can’t make out the words because my father’s hand is shaking so violently, but I can see the signature.
Love, Wrath
“I don’t know what it says.” I bark back. “You seem to have read it, why don’t you tell me?”
His eyes narrow as he throws the vest on the kitchen table and shoves the piece of paper my way. I take it from him, my eyes on the words, and I am chilled, but my heart is about to ram through my chest.
You may not understand, but I’m leaving you my vest with my patches. In my world, this is no joke. It means I’m coming back for you, Kristina. I’m going to make this all right. And when I do? You’ll get your own vest and you will choose to give mine back.
I’m taking care of what needs taking care of. Then I’ll be back.
Love,
Wrath.
My ears are ringing as I stare at the note. There’s a knot inside of me that is tightening and making it hard to focus on anything, but my father is still talking and I force my eyes to his.
“There’s something else you need to see.” He reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out a few sheets of folded white paper, handing them to me. “Now read that.”
I unfold the stack and the knot inside of me becomes painful.
It’s a computer printout. It has Wrath’s legal name, dates and arrests. And convictions...
“He’s a murderer, Kristina. And more. Theft, assault and...” He grabs the papers from my hands, flips through them, then shoves them back in front of me, pointing mid way down the page. “Arson.”
“But...” I start, but his voice booms.
“Stop!” He slams a fist down on the table and the black leather vest falls to the floor. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Kristina. He’s a bad person. Dangerous.”
“These aren’t all convictions.” I throw the papers on the table, leaning down to pick up the vest and hold onto it this time. “He’s not a bad person. He may have lived a different life to ours, but that does not make him bad.”
“He set the fire to hurt us. To get to you. He’s a bad guy, this is just a game for him, don’t you see?”
I shake my head, no more words will help and inside I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore either.
“Listen.” There’s an abrupt change to his demeanor. He softens, like he’s trying to play good cop now after being the bad cop. “Everything is going to be okay. There are things here you don’t understand. Important things regarding the church, my position with the National Convention, my job at the college, our home.” He waves a hand at the ceiling, then takes my upper arms in his grip. “Sometimes, you have to trust. And right now you need to trust that I know best. We have a dinner to go to. I need you to not ask questions. Go get dressed. Something nice. Do your hair. I need you, Kristina.”
I open my mouth to ask a question, and he turns hard again.
“I’ve raised you to respect your parents. That is what I need from you right now. You will understand everything later. Right now, go get dressed. We’ll be leaving in a half hour.”
With that, I’m standing in the kitchen clutching Wrath’s vest, the note he left me this morning and the pages of his criminal record as my eyes burn and I lean over the kitchen table. I gather them into a bunch and put my head on top of them, breathing in the scent of leather and gasoline and Wrath’s masculine odor, and choke back the sob.
11 | Kristina
By the time we pull up to The Sly Fox restaurant, my hands are shaking, and for the first time in my life I consider punching something hard. The windshield comes to mind, but instead I turn to my father as he parks our Buick and turns off the ignition, looking straight ahead.
On the way to the restaurant, my father finally told me William would be here. He told me they’ve been arranging things. He wants to propose and my father has given his blessing.
All done, arranged and sealed without me.
“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” I do what I can to keep my voice even. I do respect him, but I have my own mind and he used to be so proud of that. “You were the one, you and mom, always encouraged me to use what God gave me. My mind being one thing. You told me to follow my dreams. I was given a gift, you’d say, and it would be a sin to waste it.”
“Things change. Real life isn’t always what we think we want. Your mother and I were introduced one week before our wedding. Our families arranged things. We were happy.” His voice thins on those last words, and sometimes I wonder what ‘happy’ means to him.
His hands are on the steering wheel, knuckles turning another shade of white, and he doesn’t look at me, but I have more to say. “I went and got my degree and you always told me how proud you were. Now, you want me to give it all up and trade it all in to be a pastor’s wife?”
Even as I say it, I remember the way Wrath’s cum felt inside of me, knowing my recklessness could have another life growing inside of me right now.
“We need to get inside. Just do as you’re told, Kristina. I need you to do as you’re told.” The way he says it feels ominous, like there’s some shoe that is going to drop on our heads if I don’t follow his instructions.
I huff, but open the door and follow him inside. The décor is classic, 1970’s old steak house, and I half imagine I’ll see Jimmy Hoffa in a booth, smoking a cigar.
The maître d’ takes my father’s name and has us follow him through the dining room. The walls are red and gold velvet wallpaper, with newspaper articles and signed pictures of celebrities and politicians from years gone by hanging like old trophies on the walls.
The table comes into view and that punching feeling comes back, only this time, my target is clear.
William is sitting there like he’s holding court, an ob
noxiously large bouquet of red roses in the center of the table. My head is spinning as we sit down and William and my father shake hands like I’m not even there.
Throughout dinner, I see how nervous my father is. I’ve never seen him like this, almost as though William is the senior pastor and he’s a groveling student trying to gain his favor.
William orders for me and when I open my mouth to protest, my father’s foot presses down on top of mine under the table and his eyes are pleading with me, so I bite my lip and stay silent.
While they eat steaks, baked potatoes, asparagus with hollandaise, I chomp on my romaine lettuce and dry piece of salmon which William ordered broiled, no butter and only balsamic vinegar on my salad. No cheese. No croutons. Cucumbers and tomatoes are acceptable.
I nearly bit my tongue in half listening to him order, and imagined taking a bite and letting the blood from where I bit down trickle from the corner of my mouth onto the stupid lettuce.
“Well.” William starts once the dishes are cleared and he and my father are swirling cognac. “By now, your father has let you in on some of what’s going on I hope.”
“Yep.” I answer, looking at the doorway and not at him, but my father clears his throat and gives me the look. “Yes.” I answer, then give William my best good pastor’s wife on Prozac smile.
“Good.” He reaches over and puts his clammy hand on mine. “I don’t think we need a lot of pomp and circumstance. But, we will be planning a wedding.”
“Will we?” I counter, and William squeezes my fingers.
“I’ll forgive you for what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done? You’re in the forgiveness business now?”
“Kristina.” My father snaps, but William holds up his hand like he’s the fucking Pope pardoning someone.
“It’s okay. This is sudden, I know, but it’s been in the works for some time. It’s what is best for your family. Which will also be my family. It’s best for your father and in time, you’ll see it is best for you as well.”
