Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance

by Lorde, Liz K.

  Forgive her, you know it wasn’t her fault, Luke thought. He pushed his jet black hair back, lifting his chin up high. I just can’t not see his face, it’s too much of a struggle to forget when she’s around – even when she’s not around I can’t escape her.

  I can’t escape.

  Luke turned and faced the exquisite white tiles of the shower wall, resting his arms against it and letting his body drift away.

  She meant so much to me, that much I can see – her emerald eyes make every inch of me sing with ecstasy. The club was demanding more and more of Luke, and his only escape was in her.

  Its better this way, he argued. If Kayla ever found out …

  Turning again, Luke’s blue and brown eyes peered over at the open door. He knew why he had done that; it was too hard to deny – his body became fire made flesh when he saw her.

  Darkness pressed against his heart. I should go out there and take her. If I could just taste her, maybe then I’d be free.

  Shutting his eyes, there was a red glimpse of horror – the icy airs of the grave finding him even against the steaming waters.

  No, Luke thought sullenly. There’s no freedom from this.

  His heart bled and he clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned pale as milk; the pain turned to anger and he wanted nothing more than to just hit something. Anything.

  Shutting off the water, he couldn’t recall what he had done in the bar that night – he remembered the blurry faces of two boys. He pushed that into the deep dark below, where all things not longed for dwelling were sent. Everything in that wicked expanse stirred and his mind scattered into a hundred different directions.

  Luke stepped from the shower and toweled off his well-toned body. He wasn’t the most muscular in the MC, but he knew how to throw a punch – and more importantly, how to make good on his threats. Whatever he lacked in strength he made up for in speed. And he knew one thing for sure. Fear commanded more respect than love; that much The Life had taught him

  Strapping on his boots, dark jeans and white shirt – Luke examined himself once over in the mirror, rubbing the scruff of his face. It hurt him something deep to see a man looking back with death wish written on the lines of his stone-cold face.

  If love and companionship was all but ruined, and brotherhood lost forever – what was there that remained? The club was going to shit, and sooner or later the cops were going to catch up with what they were doing. Nothing in Luke’s life was sacred anymore.

  Stepping through the doorway, Luke looked for Jasmine. He had called for a ride earlier, and knew that it would be arriving soon, but he did still want to say goodbye.

  Luke moved over to the kitchen, only just then realizing that his lips were upturned from their usual place of stoicism. He put an end to that quickly and called out the hellcat’s name.

  “Sorry,” her voice came from behind him, soft as an angel’s grace.

  He spun on his heel to face her.

  Beautiful. She was dressed in her white coat and wore a dark purple kind of color – some fancy shade – button up shirt beneath it; it had ruffles along the V of her drop dead sexy bust. Fuckin’ Christ, he thought, feeling a surge of energy slam just below the base of his cock. She oozed an aura of power and intelligence that no woman had graced him with before; her emerald eyes practically god damned sparkled in the morning light. Something caught in Luke’s throat and he tried to clear it, “Just wanted to say thanks,” he couldn’t look away from her. She’s not just some conquest, he remembered then, in a fading image.

  For a brief time, she was his rose in the desert – his solace in the storm.

  Jasmine’s beautiful, downturned emerald eyes, like something of a cat, penetrated through him as she narrowed her gaze. “Yes,” she said, the movement of her pink lips a little slice of heaven in their own right, “you mentioned that earlier.”

  He sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the building tightness in his pants. Luke almost didn’t catch the whip in her voice. It took every ounce of his willpower to not kiss here there – it couldn’t be that way, he assured himself. Luke nodded, giving her one last look before turning from her.

  “Wait,” she said and his heart obliged.

  “What?” He asked, harder than he had intended for it to sound.

  “Are we okay?” She asked, a hopeful something lacing her tone. I wish I knew for sure. “I mean,” she hesitated, “are we on speaking terms at least, now?”

  “Yeah,” Luke replied, craning his head back to look at her. “We’re okay-ish,” he assured, and the lines of concern in her face eased a bit. “I’ll see you around … or something.”

  Jasmine bobbed her beautiful head in acknowledgement before Luke left through the front door.

  ***

  Luke had gotten a ride from one of his Steel Knight brothers: Gabriel. Luke liked him most out of everybody; he was never one to ask questions for friends, just did things and kept to himself. A good, if not quiet person. If only there were more people like him in the world, maybe half the dark shit that goes on and on wouldn’t be happening on a daily basis.

  The morning sun hung low on the sky and the streets were busy with cars and people, Luke’s bike still parked on the side of the road. Relief washed over him as he jogged to it, kneeling down and giving it a look over. Not a scratch on her, you’re still good as new babe.

  His FX-50 was his pride and joy, a black behemoth of steel and chrome. It gleamed with dancing light beneath the morning’s grace. It had a few stickers that Luke’s Pa had left him – some of the bands that he loved most, and a couple of quotes that he tried to live by.

  Hopping on his steel horse, Luke gripped the handles tight; slipping onto it was the most natural thing he could do. Well, aside from killing and screwing. Riding was his life, his joy, his escape. He gave the stand a firm kick, craned his neck to look across the street and produced the key from his pocket, turning it, the engine roared to life. You need to forgive her, just let go, he thought. Hate just weighs you down; it just consumes you – why can’t you just forgive?

  Maneuvering into traffic, Luke got into his comfort zone taking a couple of turns. I always miss this, he mused, the wind assailing him and flowing through his black hair. He cranked the engine and leaned forward and to the right, skirting dangerously close to the sidewalk. Nearly hitting someone he could make them out cursing him right before he overtook the Celica. Luke’s spine lit up with pinpricks of ecstasy as he swerved hard into his left turn, letting his hand glide just an inch above the pavement.

  He knew that he was acting stupid, that he shouldn’t be riding the way that he was.

  But he couldn’t stop.

  When he got on to an oft unused backroad of a highway, his world seemed to come to a close, anything that wasn’t the road or his bike or in his immediate way was just static. Life didn’t matter anymore, those pathetic issues like grief or love or stress – they were just obstacles, and his steed only knew one thing: speed.

  He flew by signs. He flew by cars and even cops wouldn’t bother if they had caught him in that moment, his line going in the red – he gripped the handles of his bike so hard that his knuckles went white; the bones in his body aching and a heat flaring up within the crown of his head.

  Every pulse of his body made his blood feel thicker and hotter.

  Luke closed his eyes and his grip tightened harder still. You’re drifting, a voice reminded.

  Lids still shut, his heart raced in his chest. Engine screaming, a part of him was ready – a part of him didn’t want to stop; the roar of his bike spoke what he couldn’t. His soul wanted to scream.

  When his tires hit the rumble strip of the pavement and it boomed in his ears, his eyes shot open. Luke eased off of the gas as the bike precariously, violently shook. He had to fight back the urge to immediately swerve, and instead slowly brought himself off of the strip.

  Luke’s heart tapped frighteningly fast against his chest, a dark adrenaline coursing through
him as he made his way to the MC.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jasmine

  Four Months Ago

  He was wrong and she was right, that’s all that there was to it. Doctor Benjamin Royce had been conversing in the hall with some of the nurses, wanting to hear what some of the men had to think about his diagnosis. Jasmine straightened her spine indignantly. “I’m telling you treating him for that will get him killed.” Probably, at least. It would definitely crash his whole immune system.

  Doctor Royce’s jaw clenched. “You’re not a diagnostician,” he snapped, “I’m surprised you know even a damn thing.” The man’s face darkened in anger. He had dark blonde hair that was very straight and fell to his ears in a kind of bowl shape.

  “If you don’t want my advice that’s your mistake,” Jasmine replied. “Don’t come crying to me for a second opinion.”

  The doctor’s voice only became louder as Augustus Lark approached from the other end of the hall.

  Augustus Lark was the head of Neurology; a tall and older man standing at an impressive 6’1. Wickedly handsome for his age, Jasmine had felt overwhelmed in his presence when she briefly met him four days prior. His shoulders were distinctively broad and masculine; the motion to his walk was something of a confident swagger. He had a head of silver and red curly hair, lush and inviting as wine.

  It was then that Royce aggressively postured towards Jasmine, the other nurses keeping a safe distance between them and the two doctors. “I don’t give a shit,” he spat, “I was asking what they thought, not you.”

  “You just wanted to hear yourself talk jackass,” Jasmine barked in reply, inching herself closer to the man – not letting him have even the slightest of ground.

  “I bet you really get around with a mouth like that, what happened before you got here? Get caught sleeping around? Bet you did,” Royce declared. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged, “go on.”

  Jasmine’s delicate hands formed into tight balls, the ends of her knuckles turning white. “You really don’t like being called on your shit, you’re a compensating, egotistical prick.”

  The two nurses were smirking, trying to contain their laughter.

  Just as Royce scoffed, Augustus made his way between Jasmine and the man.

  Augustus snapped his fingers and then lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers in a gesture. “Okay-okay now you two,” his voice was gruff but playful, it had an air of command to it. “Let’s just say that you were wrong,” he motioned with his hand at Royce, “anddd that you were right,” he did the same to Jasmine. He lifted his head to the sky, “big G if you’re up there puh-lease grant me the strength to make them listen.” Augustus brought his head down and balled one of his hands, as if he had just caught something.

  His voice lowered into his usual default snark. “You’re both idiots, get over yourselves and start focusing on saving lives. You know, the thing that actually matters – not how far either of you can piss what you think is success. I’m just here to tell you: it’s all piss.” His eyes shifted towards Jasmine, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking smile.

  Butterflies whimsically danced in Jasmine’s chest. He’s still the idiot, not me, Jasmine countered in her head, opting for a passive-aggressive huff.

  Before she could get a word in edge wise, Royce said, “Whatever,” he retreated a couple of steps from Augustus then. “You’ll see her for what she is.”

  Augustus’ foxlike green eyes widened and he folded his arms one over the other, his brows furrowing. “Oh by allll means big daddy warbucks tell me just,” he made a singular bobbing motion with his head for emphasis, “how well you know our lovely new ray of sunshine in paradise city.”

  Ray of sunshine she was not. Jasmine struggled then to contain the laughter simmering just below her person – hoping that Augustus wouldn’t notice. She wished that they worked together.

  Unfolding his hands, Augustus cocked his head and started counting out with his fingers. “Gee you work quick let’s see … one two three … wow, I mean. Wow! Three days, Ryan?”

  Doctor Royce’s nose flared at that. “That’s not my name.”

  “Seriously though,” Augustus shook his head in a rapid-fire motion as he spoke. “I mean I’ve seen you around here trying to get in women’s pants for what, two years now?” He smiled brightly and his voice lowered again. “So go on then, tell me everything that you know about me – if you work so fast.” Silence hung in the hall for a moment as Royce smoldered, standing close to the wall – when he said nothing Augustus put his hand to his ear and motioned with his brows.

  A giggle left Jasmine’s lips. “Sorry,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth. Not sorry.

  Augustus moved over to Jasmine and put an arm around her shoulder, pinioning her against his big and surprisingly strong body. “Nothing? Nada? Good. Now make like my ex and get, get-get-get get! Go on; don’t make me find a newspaper now.”

  Royce rolled his eyes, storming off and back into his office. Chauvinist.

  Augustus made a kicking motion, looking over to the two nurses that were still floating around – he wanted something from them.

  Jasmine’s face was practically squished against the doctor’s side, a pain starting to bloom where he was holding her. “You can let go now,” she harped, noting how he smelled strangely beautiful of lemongrass.

  Looking down at her as if he had forgotten she was there, Augustus let go. “Oh, right,” he said. “My bad there sunshine.”

  Jasmine straightened her white coat, “Don’t call me that,” she complained.

  “Oh you don’t want to do that,” Augustus narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin slightly. “I’ll give you one for being new – but if you do that, I’ll have to mentally file you off as just another Debbie or Melissa.”

  He leaned in closer. “Is that what you want, Doctor Debbie?” He pulled away then, he clicked his tongue and his face turned sour. The man walked in brisk strides before she could even voice her opinion – was he disappointed in her somehow?

  Jasmine hastily shuffled to catch up to the man that moved with such purpose. Why can’t I just let him go? “It’s Giuseppe,” she called out. “And if you have any stones at all you’ll drop the petnames,” her words came out a bit more playful than she had intended. Am I actively trying to flirt with this man or did the stars just align weird today?

  She couldn’t deny that he had an energy about him, and that it was fun as hell to be flirting again; still, she had promised herself that she would focus on her career.

  Without looking back, the broad shouldered Doctor gave a throaty laugh. “I’m downgrading you to Hazelnut,” he threatened, turning a corner into the floor’s main lobby. Just what the hell did that mean. “And don’t flatter yourself, kiddo,” he stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel giving a condescending look, “pet names are for two people.” Augustus brought up his index finger, “one, for my private army of gimps that I strangely recall only being named Charlie.” The lines of his face turned something pensive as his foxy green eyes moved to the upper right before settling back on Jasmine. “Anddd the second is for my harpy of a wife who only gets them because G man in the sky help me. I. Just. Can’t. Stop poking that bear with a ten foot pole.”

  “Ten feet, huh?”

  Augustus chuckled to himself, his eyebrows wagging, “You want exact measurements?”

  I’ve never met a man like this, and I probably won’t ever again. What a charming, self-indulging narcissist. “I was so very wrong,” Jasmine shook her head in disbelief.

  “Well since you’ve got me here …”

  “You really like to hear yourself talk. I don’t think the bar could be any higher now.”

  The corner of the doctor’s mouth curled into the shadow of a smile and he pointed firmly at Jasmine. “You got me there, Hazelnut.”

  Augustus moved over to the front desk and looked for something briefly before picking up two purple colored folders. “Don’t you have
somewhere to be?” He called out to Jasmine.

  “I have my pager on,” she replied, closing the distance between him. “I’ve decided to do you a service.”

  Nodding respectfully to the lady at the front desk, Augustus glanced back at Jasmine before walking down the long white hall. A sign hung above their heads reading ‘Neurology’.

  Tucking one of the folders beneath his arm, Augustus flipped open the other, “Right here in front of God and everybody? I don’t know how they run their stuff over in kink-land, but that’ll get you fired – for starters – pretty quick.”

  Blood rushed to her face and warmth bloomed between her legs. Oh god he twisted that easily. “Wow,” she exclaimed, “I can’t believe you just—“

  Augustus craned his head to look back at her. “I did and if you want to fight me about it I promise not to go easy on you just because you’re a girl,” he said, “I’m all about equality.”

  Chuckling, Jasmine made a couple long strides to catch up to the man’s side.

  “So since like an annoying pest you’ve rooted yourself firmly onto me I guess I’ll bite. What service?” She was going to give him a service by being an excuse to let him hear himself ramble.

  Jasmine said nothing as they walked along the corridor, a large black door coming into view with white letters inscribed on it reading ‘Lark M.D’.

  The doctor exhaled, why did he sound so happy? “Nothing beats a good silent treatment.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. “I’m just a pest, remember? The ones I’ve encountered don’t talk.”

  Reaching for the handle, he looked back. “Sorry?” He said, turning it and opening the door, stepping part of the way through. “All I heard was a series of drones and clicks.” He turned around fully to face Jasmine then, tossing the two folders onto his desk. It was a nice office, posh and dark. The doctor’s chair was a bright red and made of leather, and there was a picture of a woman framed on his desk. Augustus placed his hands on either end of the frame of his door. “Seriously now I’m going to lock this door sooo don’t make me have to get the fly swatter.”