“No, I guess not.” Law’s eyes are staring at something only he can see. “I was so mad at Chapel for being the one to stand up against him. It should have been me. To see J.D.’s hands on you like that made me want to tear him apart. I wanted to, but I didn’t.
I let him hurt you. I let him say those things to you. Not Chapel though. He stood right beside you, and I hate him for it. Not as much as I hate myself for being so weak.”
He pauses, trying to collect himself. His foot begins to bounce with his anger.
“Then Rhett. Rhett who has been with J.D. the longest was right beside you. Laughing with you the way we used to. The way he looks at you now. The way you look at him.” His whole body now vibrates from the force of his foot. “He actually asked me if I would mind. Like I wouldn’t mind. Now Marxx. Shit Marxx, the coldest bastard we have sits each morning with you. Just the two of you sitting at a table, in your own little world each morning, while I am still on the outside, waiting. I’m still waiting for you to want me again. Each glare from those eyes of yours cuts me deeper than I thought I could be cut. Your words, shit, Hells, you know how to hurt me.”
He stares at the ground with his body shaking from his emotions. He is pulling down each brick for me to finally, really, see him. His mortar is loosening with each secret he has kept from me he is spilling forth.
“…and I started it all. I wanted to stop it so many times, but it was so far from my grasp. We just kept slipping further away with my anger, your anger and my guilt until I didn’t know how to get us back. So, I stopped trying. I just let it all fall apart. I let it all fall down around me. I let us go, Hells. Even as you stood there trying to hide the pain from me, I let it all go. When you stood there begging me with your eyes to help you with J.D., I just threw it all away. I used Leslie as much as she used me. Each time I was with her, I lost more of myself. I lost more of us. I knew each time she screamed my name it was not who I wanted to hear it from.”
I listen to him, biting my tongue to keep myself still as I wait for him to start again.
He looks at me to weigh my reaction to his confessions, saying, “I thought if I lost enough, it wouldn’t hurt anymore to watch you slip away. It wouldn’t hurt so much to see you with the other group. It would stop hurting to have to watch you sitting with Dolph, right across from me, giving him your smile. I’m just lost now though, and it still hurts, Hells.”
He is crumbling before me. He hides his face in his hands with his shame. Lawless is no longer vibrating but rocking back and forth from his confessions.
“Say something damn it. Anything. If you have something to say, say it to me now. I don’t want to lose you to some bullshit. I’ve lost so much, I can’t lose you, too,” he says, breaking with his guilt.
He is forcing himself to stay in this moment. He is fighting to stay lost in his weakness before me. Even as my body trembles with the urge to avoid this, I will not run. We are so far from the path we came here on and I don’t know if I can retrace enough of our steps to fix us. I take the first step just the same.
“I hated you the moment she touched you. The moment you let her touch you and made me watch. I tried so hard to deny you were sleeping with her; that you were able to just walk away so easily from me when here I was trying my best to keep us all together. You were my security. My strength. You held my heart and you just let me go. You didn’t just let me go. You watched me fall. You let me fall for your amusement. It should never have been Chapel beside me, you’re right. It should have been you. It should have been your arms I cried in at night. Your arms that hid me when I didn’t want to do it anymore. It never was. You stood there with your blank face, watching me break and you did nothing to stop it with your fear of upsetting J.D.,” I tell him, giving him what he had asked me to do.
He says nothing, keeping his head buried in his hands and I can’t stop the words now they have been let loose.
“You chose Leslie over me. You chose J.D. over me. You chose Aimes over me. You asked me, did I ever stop to think of you. Did I ever wonder about what would happen to you? No, I didn’t. I thought no matter what was to happen, you would always be there with me. Always. You proved me all wrong though, didn’t you? You proved me wrong each day with your smiles to her, your whispered words to her and her touching you. You proved me wrong by drawing this line between us. What a big funny joke I was for you and J.D. to enjoy?”
It’s not just my mouth now let free, but my body, as I stride forward with my anger. I stare at him, asking him, “Did J.D. give you a big pat on the back when you finished each time? Atta Boy Law, way to bang a ho! Do you want a round of applause for feeling gross for sticking your dick in her? A big hug reassuring you it’s only for you who she screams? She is just as big of a slut as you are, and martyr really isn’t your color.”
He nods his head with each word I shout at him, accepting my rage.
“I’m not stupid. I knew about all those other times. White roses, just because? Right. You really wonder why I run? Why I have never fully let you in? I’m tired of your running, too. Don’t blame me for the doubts you have caused,” I say, hissing my rage. I want to be angry. I want to scar him with poison-tipped words.
I want to see him hurt, but I can’t. My pain is too great from our separation. My anger died long ago. It is just empty pain now inside me with the memories of us. We have both scarred each other and been scarred by the other enough as it is.
“You stopped fighting. You walked away. When I needed you the most, you stood right there and watched me fall. Now you want me to just walk right back into your arms after you left me all alone?” I ask him.
He looks up to me from behind his hands to let me see him. His face is wet from his tears and they trace patterns along the dark, amber coloring of his skin. I have never seen him so broken. It doesn’t bring me the joy I hoped it would hold for me. He has always been so full of life, but now as he hangs with defeat, it speaks more to me than any words he has said.
“It shouldn’t always be a fight. I shouldn’t have to always fight for you. Everything is falling down around us, Helena, but here I am still fighting for you to let me in, but I never left you,” he whispers the words, so weary from the truth of them. “I am here, every night, right beside you. I watch over you when you sleep. I whisper in your ear with your nightmares, telling you that you are safe. Just sleep baby, you are safe.” His voice breaks with the words, and my heart skips as the words spark a memory.
I thought the sound of him at night beside me was a dream. I thought it was nothing more than my own loneliness conjuring the feel of his arms when the demons came to play in my dreams. He was here. Through all my bitter words, and poisoned acts, he was here. My lighthouse was here to guide me to the dawn.
“Every day I ask Chapel about you,” he confesses. “I ask him to keep you safe when I can’t. I watch you slowly give up on everything, but I am always standing right beside you if you need me. You were burning every bridge, but I never left you. I am still here. Hanging on. Even as you burn me. Even as you cut me. I am still here. Just as I promised you.”
“Then why do I feel so alone, Larance?”
The sound of his real name on my lips brings him to me instantly. He wraps me in the security blanket I have ached so desperately from with its loss.
His lips tenderly touch mine, and he whispers to me, “Because that is how you want it. It’s how you’ve always wanted it. Let me love you, Helena. Please, love me.”
With his words, I no longer want to throw stones. This fragile glass house of ours cannot handle any more blasts. Its walls are coated with so much of our mudslinging already and I can barely see the heart of it.
I only want to calm this hurricane we have become. I want to calm the storm that howls around us with so many of these doubts and fears of ours. He refuses to look away from me, and I pray he sees just how much I need him now, even if I cannot say the words.
We are both children forgotten. His embraces canno
t make up for the ones I was denied so long ago, the missed embraces that laid these first bricks of mine, but I am going to let him try. I am going to let us try.
Our kisses start out gentle and shy. We each wait for the other’s refusal or rejection. We test each other’s boundaries until there is none to be found, and finding none, passions are sparked as our bodies remember the feel of us. The gentle touch of his lips builds into the caress of his tongue before it penetrates my mouth with his eagerness.
His mouth tastes the flesh of my neck before it travels lower, exploring the spaces exposed by his fingers with the removal of my clothes. The small buttons of my shirt overcome his desires with their defiance at his hunger-driven clumsiness. My fingers, which had been doing their own exploration of his body, take over the act for him. His eyes devour every inch I expose until I lie bare for them.
The pause he takes to visually roam my body inflames me with the need for his touch, flushing my skin with my desires. He smiles a very male smile, expressing his enjoyment of my situation as he traces the curves of my sides with his palms. I arch for him with the feeling of his warm hands on me. He moans a male sound of appreciation with the sight before rewarding me with his mouth again.
Circle upon circle, motion after motion, his mouth and tongue return to their previous task. He licks and samples with different speeds and urgency upon my breasts, my neck, and my shoulders. My leg is wrapped around him and he cups my thigh, bracing it, allowing our hips to mock the motions of our future acts.
My arms have been clinging to him, pulling him to me with a refusal for any space between us. My hand caresses the back of him, trailing a path to his shoulders and to his neck before repeating it again. My other hand guides the back of his head along the path he is taking with his mouth, providing the clues to the spots of where I want to feel him the most. My voice is a soft combi- nation of moaning and pleading with his hot, wet torture of me.
I am lost in the heights of the sensations he is driving me to when I feel his voice against my neck.
“No more running, Helena,” he tells me. His hot breath whispers along my flesh, “You are either all in, or I am all out.”
My heart races, not from his actions, but from his ultimatum. All this time I have blamed him for pulling away, but it was me who was pushing him away. I was so lost in my failures before, and now worse with their deaths still haunting me, I have become disgusted with myself. I have encased myself in a prison of bitterness and it has turned my actions and words into acid pouring over him and those around me with my self-hatred.
Now my Lawless, my lighthouse, stands before me trying to find me one more time. He is offering me everything, his heart, his body and his soul. All I have to do is accept him, completely, and I do. I take what is mine. I take it fully.
Chapter 47
“The tree is still bare.” Aimes is pouting, staring at the evergreen with its defiant height mocking the ceiling of the third floor. “It is all naked and depressing,” she says, with pursed lips.
We are lounging in a common area of our making after dinner. Spare furniture from unused teacher’s lounges has been brought up to accommodate the many more people who now mingle with winter’s chill keeping everyone inside. Somehow, our little group remains aloof even as we interact with those around us. The leather vests, still a staple of their wardrobe, turned this corner into ours even with our absence. It has the same effect on those who live here now as it did for those who used to live in our town. If given the chance, I am sure J.D. would paint their grinning skull on the wall above us to finalize their space.
The vest is not the only thing they have reclaimed from our past. The men have fallen back into their ranking system as they sit around the table. J.D. sits at the head, silently watching our banter while the rest of them ascend down on either of his sides with their held position. Routines are slowly forming again with the drama easing around us. If we loot a jukebox, we may just be at Grit again.
“Sweetheart, nothing naked is depressing.” Rhett begins to tug on his shirt with a smile. “Here, let me show you.”
“What is it with you and your hate for keeping your clothes on?” Aimes’ voice may hold disapproval, but her face does not.
I can feel Lawless’ arms tighten around me automatically with his doubts still open to me after yesterday. I slide deeper into his embrace, trying to settle them. It’s a little thing, but it’s enough. My mind still sometimes revolts with my efforts to embrace him again. I find myself biting my tongue to keep my words at bay. Baby steps, such tiny, painful baby steps I am still taking.
“She is right. If we are going to do this, we need to finish it.” Chapel twirls his cross ring with his nervousness.
The many gems set around the cross’ framework catch the over- head lights and glow with the reflections. The center gem sparkles with many different shades as he twists it with his habit. The ring is as much as part of Chapel as the vest has become.
“Seriously, how does this “we” shit keep coming up?” Rhett’s flirtatious nature melts to annoyance with his question.
“Getting weak in your old age, Rhett? You ready to retire that bike?” Lawless taunts him.
His words hold mirth, but just like J.D., they also hold so much more. How much has our little Prince learned?
“Anything you can do brother….” Rhett lets it hang between them with his dangerous smile coloring the words.
“That means you can take your shirt off, too.” I relax in Lawless’ arms, bringing him back to me.
He kisses the top of my head, but I can feel his tension still making his body taunt. He will not take his eyes off Rhett with the tension now between them from their hidden innuendos.
Rhett breaks his stare first. He cuts his eyes sideways, inhaling his anger with the act. Lawless has won this round and it shocks me when Rhett caves so easily. I look to J.D. with my questions on my face, but he only gives me those empty, cold eyes, warning me to stay silent. It seems it’s more than just Lawless’ changes I have missed with my departure.
“What does it mean to “retire your bike”?” Aimes apparently missed the whole stare-fest to be stirring the pot so nonchalantly. “When you can’t ride any longer.” J.D. is the one to answer her, refusing to let the stalemate between Rhett and Lawless start again.
“What happens when you can’t ride any longer?” I ask. I am afraid the answer to my question may be exactly what I think it is. “You’re out.” J.D.’s voice holds his normal cord of finality. He is looking to the man across the table from him and fighting to stay disconnected.
Marxx sits at the base of the table avoiding our stares. Paula has warned, with the extent of his injury, he may never fully regain the grip in his hand. It’s the very thing could keep Marxx from ever riding again and regaining his place next to J.D. I wonder, with reality now looming before him, if he still thinks it was worth it.
“If we are going to do it, then we should do it now. There seems to be more of them as of late than before. The darkness will help cover us,” Marxx says. He ignores my stare, but I know he feels it.
“It will help cover them as well.”
I know that Siren’s voice. I pull from Lawless’ embrace, replacing my missing bricks with Leslie behind us. He tightens his arms around me, feeling me retreat from him. It does not comfort me. It feels like I am smothering. He lets me go, dropping his arms to his sides and it is my turn to avoid their stares.
“…and?” Lawless asks her. His tone is dangerously flat with her.
“And it is not safe,” she tells him, exasperated with his response. “Good thing no one invited you.” Lawless signals for me to move so he can stand.
The rest of the men at the table stand with his head nod for them. Even J.D. obeys Law’s silent command with a smirk of trouble on his lips. They file out of our area in a single-file line, still in the formation of rank and silent with their solidarity. Their body language parts the space before them as they near the other res
idents. Men nod hellos as they pass, trying to gain their attention with the yearning for acceptance and any chance of acknowledgments. The club is back in its power even in this small community with the respect and fear they inspire.
Aimes leans into Leslie as she strolls past her to join our group and whispers in a mockingly compassionate tone, “Sorry, Skankerbell, you must be all out of whore dust.”
I wonder how long I will continue to give this woman power over me with her past and if I can become like her to give Lawless what he needs for his future. What happens if I can’t?
“It is only a matter of time,” Leslie says to me, echoing my thoughts now that it is just, she and I left.
“…until you catch on that you are not wanted anymore?” I ask her, with a bittersweet smile. “But don’t worry, I’ll clap to keep you alive. After all, I do believe you are a skank.”
I give her wide eyes of innocence before turning my back to her. Aimes and I clap, loudly, as we walk through the heavy doors, we shout together.
“Clap! Clap if you believe. Clap!” We shout together with our exit.
The men are already preparing to head out into the bitter cold when we catch up to them. They are pulling on the many layers of winter barriers to help reduce the wind chill from the bikes. The sun has not yet fully set, giving the day some warmth, but when it does the temperature will drop with it. The risk of this run is not just the Risen, but Mother Nature as well.
I don’t speak with Lawless as I help him slip into his gear. His eyes survey my face in our silence, waiting for me to speak. He is afraid I will run again. I am afraid I will not.
“Be careful,” I tell him, when I finally find my voice. “You won’t have your zombie bait to find them for you this time.”
“I plan on using Chapel.” His lips curve with his joke and I wonder how much of a joke it is after our conversation. “I’m kid- ding. It is a simple in-and-out. There is one of those giant super stores back up the road a bit. I doubt the decorating items have been ransacked. Tinsel isn’t high on the survival guides.”
Dawning (The Risen Series Book 1) Page 35
