Split - Coffin Nails MC (Contemporary New Adult Erotic Dark Romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 7)

by Merikan, Miss

  Asty’s whole body turned into wood. He was hitting on her again? Now? When she was at her weakest? Her thoughts clouded as she melted into him anyway, sobbing violently, and clutching her fingers on his jacket. “It’s all my fault ... I should have noticed something odd was going on with him ... and he died alone in that fucking trailer ...”

  “You weren’t much at the club lately. You couldn’t have noticed.” Hunter hugged her closer and gently stroked the back of her head. It was calming and infuriating all at the same time.

  “That’s the whole point,” she cried out and pushed at his chest, trying to get away. “Everything I love is dying! It’s like I’m luring death ...”

  “Hey, Asty.” Hunter grabbed her wrists and looked into her eyes, only making her think about how red they had to be. “What are you talking about? Was the ritual about the goat?”

  “Let go of me! It’s none of your business, and you don’t really care anyway!” She finally stumbled out of his arms and grabbed the metal door of the trailer for balance. “Maybe that’s for the better. You could die too. This will all collapse, and I will be the black hole that sucks everyone in.”

  “What the fuck? You’re nuts, girl! I just wanted to get to know you better.” Hunter lifted his hands with a scowl. “Do I want to fuck again? Yes, I suppose I do, but that’s not everything that draws me to you. So now you’re threatening me with some black magic voodoo? I am so done with this shit!” He grabbed the cart and pushed it closer to the trailer to transfer the goat to it. “Just stay away from Ray!” he added.

  Asty rubbed her face and leaned against the side of the trailer. She couldn’t stop crying, but at least she kept it quiet, watching the cars rush down the highway in front of her. She didn’t want to look at the dead body of her friend, and guilt ate up her heart as she listened to Hunter deposit the body on the cart and then take it away. She was shaken to the core, and only the familiar red car with the advertisement for Lucifer’s Barber Shop took her out of the stupor.

  Lucky parked right next to the trailer and rushed outside, hugging her firmly. He started talking, but Asty stopped him. “He died ...”

  Lucky stilled, looking into her eyes, but then pulled her into a hug. “Oh, my God … I’m so sorry, Asty. Beast was the sweetest. I can’t believe this. Do you know what happened?”

  She rubbed her tears on his denim shirt and sniffed, slowly growing numb inside. “He took the body inside ...”

  “Who?”

  But before she could answer Lucky, Hunter came up to them, never once looking into her eyes. “They will examine the body. Do you want me to take you home?”

  Asty shook her head and pushed deeper into Lucky’s arms.

  “I’ll take her,” Lucky whispered over her head, and not long after, the car engine next to them rumbled.

  Asty pushed harder, but Lucky’s arms weren’t as big and steady around her as she’d have wished. They were nothing like Hunter’s.

  Asty

  “I know you sent me two of them so I wouldn’t fixate on the father. He’s just a donor, I know, but I still hope it’s Hunter,” Asty said as she dipped another batch of candles in hot wax and added a few drops of blood from the Astaroth seal to the mixture. She knew her mother wouldn’t answer her from beyond the grave. All her knowledge was trapped in the notebooks Asty was still figuring out despite having read them over a dozen times.

  It had been two weeks since Beast’s death, two weeks from creating the seal, and a month of being pregnant. Strangely enough, Asty’s body didn’t feel different just yet. Maybe Death came for Beast because the goat would be lonely once she died. It wouldn’t understand what was about to happen. Asty could only hope her cat would be spared. Lucky and Tooth had three, so they’d surely take Behemoth in.

  She was making candles that she intended to use in the final ritual. They would contain blood from the several months of pregnancy, creating a continuity that was to ensure little Beelzebub’s safety. But as she was making them, she couldn’t help but add her own spell, one only loosely based on her mother’s notes. She added a few of Hunter’s hairs she’d found on her T-shirt to one of the candles. It was more for good luck than anything else. She believed he was the father, so his protection was just as crucial.

  The shed always smelled of wax and the various ingredients Asty kept in little wooden drawers. There were also stacks of books—on candlemaking, herbology, and symbolism—in a block of shelves by the wall. The space inside was small, but there was just enough of it to store Asty’s works, and the orange and dark green picture a friend of hers had painted on one of the walls gave it personality. The work depicted a naked woman with greyish skin, praying within a pentagram of chalk and candles. The ceiling was tall enough to let Asty work in peace, but only if she didn’t wear platform boots. Dad could only enter while leaning down, not to hit himself on the head, so it felt like a space that was dedicated to her only.

  And in the intimate space of the shed, her mind always drifted to that night when Hunter and Ray had had sex with her. It was only supposed to be about the ritual. She had seen them as tools and bearers of seed, but the truth was that when Hunter had looked into her eyes, while buried deep inside her and pushing in so intensely, there had been a connection between them that went beyond sex. His gaze consumed her, his touch had purpose, and even the corpsepaint on his face couldn’t hide the person underneath.

  She swallowed hard and dipped the cantle again, watching wax dry almost instantly. She couldn’t help but think of the next step toward her ultimate goal. She needed to obtain more seed from the father and ingest it this time to inspire masculine potency in the future child. She was very surprised to uncover this detail within her mother’s later notes and scolded herself for not reading everything through carefully before she had done the initial ritual. But the more she read, doing mind maps of what was required, the more small inconsistencies emerged to her attention. The gaps in her mother’s writing were probably due to the assumption that Asty would know how to fill them. It was an embarrassment, but Asty spent hours over occult books from Mom’s collection to find the necessary, if vague, answers. One way or another, it made sense, that the two men who had sex with her, came back into her life so that she could ingest their life energy.

  Hunter’s cock had been so thick when she held it. How would he taste? She brushed her fingers over her neckline, above her breasts, and dipped the candle again. It had been a long time since Hunter had spoken to her. His initial cockiness was gone, or at least no longer directed at her. She was pretty sure he wasn’t wasting any time behind her back, especially after he’d seen her bare-faced. He was now probably sorry he had chased her in the first place. Maybe coaxing him into the blowjob wouldn’t be all that easy anymore? Being so handsome, he probably had female hangarounds crawling into his bed constantly. She knew how Bell and his friends had been. That was why she had never wanted to be with a biker in the first place.

  When the candle was thick enough, Asty stopped the fire underneath her pot and hung her creation on a hook in the back of the shed. It was high time for her to prepare for a distraction, just a drop of normal life that would never be hers again.

  *

  Music pounded in Asty’s ears as if she were fourteen again, sneaking out to her first-ever black metal concert. It was halfway through the encore, and Cries of Decay seemed in top form even after playing a whole set. The vocals were deep, menacing, and she shouted them along with the band, drenched in sweat that could be both hers and the people’s around her. She jumped, she chanted, and she moved with the crowd who carried her back and forth as they all jumped up high. Here, she could forget her daily life and worries. The ragged black clothes of the band floated with their every move, and the corpsepaint transformed them into demons that took over this gathering, feeding it harsh truths, beating reality into their heads with every bass.

  Her eyes drifted to the longhaired guys headbanging in front of the stage, and she couldn’t help
but think of Hunter. When the song ended, the men pushed their hair back, and Hunter’s face emerged from the crowd, his heavily tattooed chest on show, sweaty and heaving for air. He wasn’t wearing a T-shirt but had wide, studded bracers on his wrists.

  Asty stalled, pushed back and forth by the sweaty crowd. How dare he follow her here? Hunter turned around and headed for the bar as soon as Cries of Decay left the stage for the last time, but she was sure it was just a way to hide and pretend he didn’t see her, when in fact, he was stalking her. So he wouldn’t even say a word to her for two weeks, but came here on the one night she decided to have some fun? She was not about to let this go.

  “Hey there. Would you like a drink?” A guy she didn’t even want to look at stopped her as she was heading toward the bar. She didn’t care to answer, just looked him straight in the eye, and hissed, sticking out her split tongue.

  “Oh, fuck! Never mind!” The guy raised his hands defensively and quickly disappeared in the crowd.

  “Wuss,” she muttered to herself as she pushed straight for the tall figure she didn’t know nearly well enough and yet recognized. Venom was filling her veins and spilling on her tongue by the time she pulled Hunter back by the arm.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Hunter acted perfectly shocked, but he wasn’t fooling her. “I’m … at a concert.” He squinted slightly and leaned against the counter.

  “Yeah, right,” Asty muttered and crossed her arms on her chest. “I just wanted to have one night off. Is that too much to ask? Why do you keep following me?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” His frown deepened, and infuriatingly, it only made him look more handsome. “You told me to piss off, so I did. I work here.”

  Asty burst out laughing and looked at his big sweaty chest, at the tattoos shining in the faint light, and at the long tousled hair that she remembered caressing her skin when they fucked. “Of course, you are. You’re the accountant.”

  Hunter’s lips didn’t even budge. “I rent out speakers to bands. Help them set up. And what do you need a night off from anyway? It’s not like you have a job.”

  Asty shut her mouth. She had stopped working on her mobile styling business in the two months preceding her mother’s death and didn’t start again since. She was selling her candles still, but it didn’t bring nearly enough income to call it a job. It was humiliating. “How do you know?”

  “I asked around.” He raised his eyebrows, and there was that smug smirk.

  “So you are stalking me!” hissed Asty and backed away slightly. “I have no reason to believe anything you say.”

  Hunter shrugged, and as he leaned against the bar counter, Asty couldn’t help but glance at the thick veins on his arms disappearing into the studded bracers. She remembered how strong those arms were and wouldn’t be surprised if he did in fact spend a lot of time lugging around heavy speakers.

  “You can go ask the band. I helped them do sound checks and all that.”

  Asty took a deep breath, and her mind came to a standstill. “You know Cries of Decay?”

  “I just told you. Why? Do I look like a loser to you?”

  Asty gritted her teeth, angry she couldn’t shake off the insistent attraction. “I don’t really know you.”

  “Maybe if you actually gave me five minutes and got to know me, you’d be surprised by what you find.” Hunter pushed some of his damp hair back in a casual gesture that made his stomach muscles slightly twitch.

  Asty’s gaze strayed there, but the moment she remembered she shouldn’t, her eyes rose to Hunter’s face. She cleared her throat. “Okay. Five minutes,” she muttered. He was actually civil this time, so she could indulge him.

  “You want a drink?” He took a step closer, and a whole pack of butterflies fluttered their wings in her stomach.

  She wanted to say yes and make use of him being over twenty-one, but the moment she remembered the baby, initial enthusiasm fizzled out. “Just Coke.”

  Hunter ordered one for her, got himself a beer, and led her away from the bar. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.” The after-party was kicking in, and it made hearing each other much more difficult.

  Like what? The bathroom? Asty tried to find balance between not touching him and not straying from him too much, but as the crowd kept pushing her away from him, she ended up grabbing his arm after all. “Can I meet the band?”

  Hunter tensed up for a split second, but then he pulled his arm away and put it over her shoulders. “Sure, I thought we could go behind the scenes anyway. You a fan? Who’s your favorite?”

  He must have not been lying about his job because the bouncer let them in through the back door at one nod from Hunter.

  Asty stilled, looking around the narrow corridor with walls painted a matte black. Would she really get to talk to Cries of Decay? Would she even be able to utter a word in their presence? Hunter’s arm burning into her skin wasn’t helping, but she didn’t want it gone either.

  “Cobra.”

  “Oh, yeah? What do you like about him?” Hunter led her down the corridor, and despite his size, she didn’t feel threatened. Being around a Coffin Nail actually made her feel safe. As Priest’s daughter, she was sure none of the guys would ever hurt her.

  “He ... he writes the lyrics. I think they are very meaningful. They really speak to me,” she said in a low voice and let herself lean into him a bit. Cobra was also just her type. Tall with long black hair and a strong brow line. He did look a bit like Hunter.

  “How come?” Hunter asked, and she realized it was the first time someone had asked her this question without laughing, without a mocking smirk. Like he got what she was saying.

  Asty cleared her throat, feeling herself flush. “You know, for example in Lost, they talk about a man who dedicated his life to God and didn’t follow his instincts, never did what he really wanted. And then he realizes on his deathbed that he wasted his life. I think this is very poignant.”

  Hunter nodded, watching her with a serious expression, and even the studs of his bracer digging into her shoulder couldn’t make her blink. “What’s the point, right? Bad shit happens to religious people and atheists alike. If you don’t feel it, you know, the presence, why would you pretend you do? To please your family? I mean, you wouldn’t have that problem, with your dad being a Satanist.” Hunter laughed.

  Asty looked up at him, instantly intrigued. “Was your family so religious?” she asked, feeling sorry for him.

  Hunter licked his lips, and Asty instantly wanted to kiss them. “I ... yeah, it’s a boring topic—”

  A door opened into the corridor, right in front of them, and there he was. Cobra. In all his leather glory. Tall, tattooed, with his makeup smudged and some of it dripping down his neck.

  “Hunter! You came for the after-party?” Cobra asked with a big grin, and Asty backed away when he moved in for a bear hug with Hunter.

  She stood there, overwhelmed by the presence of the five men she had followed since her teens. They were all so tall, and even though the room smelled of sweat, she didn’t really care. This was amazing. She had never seen them from up close, and now that she had that chance, she had no idea what to say. When Hunter was leading her here, she hadn’t thought of any questions, too focused on their conversation.

  “Sure, we can stay a while,” Hunter said once he backed away, and there was no running away now. He pulled Asty close by the waist. “This is Astaroth. She does tarot readings if you ever want your future told.”

  Asty took a deep breath, and her eyes strayed to Hunted. So he remembered? Now she had something to talk about, something she was very proficient at. She quickly pulled out her cards and smiled as casually as she could. There weren’t many people in the room, but she was eager to read for them all. She could actually show off her skills and make an impression on the guys.

  Cobra’s brown eyes were friendly behind the streaked makeup, and he took a sip out of a beer he was holding. “Why not. I had my p
alm read some time ago. Let’s see how your predictions go against hers,” he said, challenging Asty with a smile. She was grateful she was wearing white foundation because she could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

  “That depends on her skill. I trust my connection with the cards.”

  Hunter nodded. “Last card she pulled for me was pretty accurate.”

  Asty didn’t think she would be, but she was happy to see his cocky grin again. They joined the band members and some of their friends and fans in a private space, and doing readings gave her confidence in conversations. She instantly felt more interesting, and her shyness was dissolving like a burning candle so she could reveal her true self.

  As she talked to Serpent, the guitarist, she was surprised to learn Hunter was held in high esteem. He didn’t just bring them speakers, but he helped tune instruments and had an ear for acoustics. With everything she was learning about him, Hunter was becoming more of a real person, and less “one of her father’s bikers.”

  Even when she was sitting by the same table as Cobra and speaking to people she had dreamed of being with for so long, she still kept glancing Hunter’s way, to his bright smile and shapely body. There was something incredibly erotic in a shirtless man who only wore jeans that uncovered some of the ridges around his navel. The long hair was slightly matted after the concert, but it was thick, and Asty knew how shiny it was on a daily basis. It made her want to pet it. Worst of all, now that Hunter wasn’t hitting on her, she wanted him to. She even felt uncomfortable when she saw him talk to some other girl while Asty was busy with a reading for Serpent.

  Time flew by all too quickly, and with every hour, there were less and less people around, until the band members were leaving, too.

  “We’re gonna continue at the hotel. You wanna come?” Cobra asked Asty, and the question was so sudden and unexpected, her voice stilled in her throat. Worst of all, Hunter’s gaze drifted to her as well, like a hook biting into her flesh and tugging.