by Tillie Cole
I was gonna kill him. Real fucking slow and painful, and mess up his fucking pretty boy face.
“Read,” Ky ordered and reached to the center of the table for the Jack. He poured me a glass and slid it toward me. Still eyeballing the fucker, silently promising him a ton of fucking pain later, I knocked the shot back and slammed the empty glass on to the table. I paced back and forth as my brothers stayed silent and just watched.
With every step I felt the python wrap around my throat. But I read the damn stupid vows anyway, sounding out the words in my head. I ran my hands through my hair and tried to keep my shit together.
Come on, Styx. Man the fuck up, asshole. Then I stopped dead and, ignoring the pussy that I was and the fucking shaking of my hands, I ran my tongue along my lips and pushed out some motherfucking words.
“I . . . ” I shook my head as I growled the first word. My throat closed and cut off the words before I’d barely started. I clenched the paper tighter in my hands and tried again. Fuck-all came out, just hot air when my lips parted. Another Jack slid in my direction, and I didn’t even look up to see who’d supplied it. I knocked back the bourbon and closed my eyes, trying to calm the fuck down.
My pansy ass tried to imagine being at the fucking altar and seeing Mae walk toward me in white. Her fucking smile and her wolf eyes. I opened my mouth. “I-I-I . . . R-R-River, t-t-t-t . . .” Without even looking at my brothers, I kicked my chair and smashed that fucker against the wall. I pounded out of the room and into the clubhouse.
“You get your period, Prez?” Vike called after me. I didn’t even stop to kick his ginger ass. Embarrassment and anger ran through me like lava. I was storming toward my bike when a hand landed on my arm. I turned and immediately wrapped my hand around Ky’s neck. I walked him backward until I smashed his back against the nearest wall.
“Styx,” he said with his hands held out. “I was just trying to fucking help.”
“D-D-Don’t,” I snarled then released him so I could sign. “Don’t pull shit on me like that again, Ky, or I swear to fucking Hades I’ll slit your throat. Best friend or not. I promise I’ll kill you.”
“I was trying to help. This is eating you up, asshole. I’ve known you all your life. Don’t think I can’t see how it’s all getting at you.” Before I could answer, Ky’s cell rang. He answered immediately.
“She is?” He nodded, sighing in relief. “Thanks, man. Appreciate all you’ve done for her.” He put the cell back in his jeans, but I was already moving to my bike. I threw my leg over the saddle, and Ky called out, “That was AK. Phebe’s out of the woods. Gonna go and get Li. She’ll meet Phebe again tomorrow.”
Still pissed, I stuck out my middle finger and took off along the dirt path. Dust and stone kicked up in my wake, and I just fucking rode. I rode along the path until I looked to my left and in the field were Lilah, Madds and Mae. Grace was with them too. I killed my bike’s engine when I knew they hadn’t seen me.
I eased up the kickstand and moved to a tree that gave me the fucking perfect view of my bitch. She was braiding Grace’s hair or some shit as Grace played with dolls. Mae’s hair was down. And when she threw her head back and laughed at something Maddie said, my heart fucking broke.
I watched her pink lips as she spoke. I watched as she spoke to her sisters like not one of them had been raped as kids. Like not one of them had a fucking care in the world.
My hands were in fists as I tried to loosen up my mouth. As I silently mouthed the vows Ky had written on that fucking sheet of paper.
The sound of a bike roared across the field, and I saw Ky roll up and speak to Lilah and Grace. Grace ran over to my brother and jumped into his arms. The fucker’s million-dollar smile was out on full display as he lifted her in his arms and kissed her on the cheek. Then he looked over in my direction, and I saw his face fall.
As pissed as I was at the dick, I knew my VP was only trying to help. And as much as I wanted nothing more than to cut off his cock and stuff it down his throat, I knew the fucker would die for me too.
He just didn’t understand. None of them did. How the fuck could they?
Seeing something pulling Ky’s attention, Mae looked my way. The minute she saw me, that same blinding smile she always gave me spread on her lips. And like Pavlov’s dog, my dick hardened and my heart fucking nearly burst from my chest at the sight of her. Especially in her long black dress that showed off her baby bump. My kid that I fucking prayed to all that was holy didn’t inherit this shitty speech impediment.
Ky flicked his chin at me as he led Lilah and Grace back home. Maddie left Mae with a kiss on her cheek. And as I’d known she would, Mae walked toward me. As she came my way, I leaned back against the tree and worked on loosening up my throat. Then, with no one to hear me but the wind, the sun, and fucking Hades himself, I opened my mouth and spoke. “I-I, R-River N-N-Nash.” I sucked in a breath and watched Mae’s smile get brighter as she got closer, and I finished, “T-take y-y-you M-M-Mae . . .” My head twitched and my eyes blinked fast, the fucking tic I always had when I tried to speak. Then, when she was only yards away, I managed to finish quietly, “T-T- b-b-be my . . . l-l-law . . . l-l-lawfully . . . w-w-w-wedded . . . w-w-wife.”
I panted, out of breath, as I spat the last word of the vow. But I felt something in my chest break as the fucking vow was done. I would never be able to do this.
“River?” Mae whispered and took the final few steps until she was before me. “What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t fucking speak any more, so I held out my hand and pulled her down into my lap. Mae called out, laughing, as she gently landed on my lap and I wrapped my arms around her waist. She turned her face toward me and, before she could speak, before she could even ask me what the fuck was wrong, I crushed my lips to hers. Mae sighed into my mouth as I took her tongue with my own then broke away.
She settled into my chest and closed her eyes. I fucking let her as I stared out over the field, eyes focused on nothing. “I love you, River Nash,” she said sleepily. “I cannot wait to be your wife.” I squeezed her tighter; then she said, “We should go home. I am tired. I am struggling to keep my eyes open today.”
But I only held her tighter. I never wanted to let this bitch go. Taking a deep breath, I said, “St-Stay. St-Stay h-h-here w-w-with me.”
Mae looked up at me through her long black lashes and smiled, taken aback. Her cheeks were pink from the sun, and she’d never looked more fucking perfect to me. “Okay,” she said softly, her eyes closing again. “We will stay. It is warm enough, and I have you.”
As her breathing evened out and she fell asleep against my chest, I closed my eyes too and mouthed the vow once again.
I River Nash take you Mae . . . And I mouthed it over and over again until I fell asleep too.
Funny how I didn’t stutter in my dreams.
Chapter Four
Mae
I lit the final candle just as I heard the lock turn. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
I heard his footsteps move through the house, and I knew who those feet were searching for: me. Each night, every time he returned from his run, his trajectory was to wherever I was.
Always me.
I waited for the call of my name. But as it had been for the past few weeks, his arrival home was silent. My fiancé was silent. He was never silent with me. With me his words—although stuttered and weak—were many, expressive . . . loving. But the silence that had befallen his soul lately was suffocating—just as the effort to speak was suffocating for him. And worse, he was not using his hands to tell me what was wrong. There was just . . . nothing.
I held my breath as I heard him approach the door. My heart beat as fast as it always did in his presence. I was sure with each passing day that beat increased in both volume and rhythm. I was sure it would until my very dying day.
Styx suddenly filled the doorway. I became breathless as his hazel
eyes fell on me, sitting on the edge of the bed. His nostrils flared as he drank me in, and I smiled. I knew he liked me like this, dressed in a sleeveless white slip, hair falling to my waist, and no makeup on my face. And my gaze roved over him too. I loved him like this: in dark jeans, a black shirt, and his cut, his face stubbled, and his dark hair messy.
Styx did not speak. He cast his gaze around the room and raised his pierced eyebrow in a questioning gesture. Lifting his hand, he nodded toward the candles and the soft sounds of Johnny Cash playing from the bathroom. “What’s all this?” he signed and, as it had been doing for endless days, my heart broke.
I couldn’t answer as sadness welled within me. Instead, I held out my hands and rose from the bed. Styx came toward me immediately, as I had known he would. As the scent of tobacco filled my nose and his callused palms slipped against mine, I pulled him close. Tipping up my head, I waited for his kiss. Styx released my hands, cupped my face, and drew his lips against mine. I closed my eyes as his taste burst on my tongue. And we kissed. We kissed so deeply and so gently that I became liquid in his arms.
When I broke away, Styx’s hard hazel eyes stared at me, searching my face for answers. I pushed his cut from his broad shoulders, silencing any questions. The muscles on top of his shoulders, leading to his neck, tensed under my hands. His biceps corded and the tattoos of Hades and demons and hell’s denizens danced over his tanned skin. He hissed through parted lips when my hands traveled to the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his wide muscled chest and over his head until it landed on the floor. I met his eyes and he met mine as I leaned forward and pressed a whisper of a kiss in the center of his chest. Styx’s skin bumped under my touch, and I smiled when his hand threaded into my hair. My fingers made lazy circles on his abdominal muscles until they drifted lower and lower to the waistband of his jeans.
Styx growled under his breath as my fingers unbuttoned the fly, my hand grazing over the denim and touching his hard length. “Fuck,” Styx hissed as I pulled the jeans, inch by inch, down his legs. His thick thighs flexed under my touch. My mouth lay just before his hardness, my breath ghosting over the flesh yet never touching.
“M-Mae,” he stuttered and guided my head closer to him as he stepped from his jeans and kicked them to the side. I glanced up and watched his eyes burn with need. Laying my hands on his thighs, I flicked out my tongue and licked along his length. Styx’s head snapped back and his eyes closed as I moved away, only to wrap my lips around the top and move, painstakingly slowly, down his full length. “Fuck,” he called out as both of his hands steadied my head. I moaned and closed my eyes, savoring the taste of him filling my mouth, the heat of his flesh, and the touch of his hands in my hair.
I kept my rhythm slow and steady. I wanted him to see how much I adored him, loved him . . . worshipped him. And when I looked up and saw him watching me, a hand sliding to my neck so his finger could stroke my cheek so softly, I knew he understood that. And as he pulled back, his length slipping from my mouth, and gently hooked his arms under my own, bringing me to my feet, I knew he loved me too.
I just could not work out what was wrong.
He lifted me into his arms, carried me to our bed, and laid me down. Crawling over me, carefully avoiding my stomach, he pushed the straps of my slip off my shoulders and pulled the material down over my breasts. I moaned when his head dipped and his tongue lapped at the hard bud. But Styx did not stop—he kept tasting and kissing, moving to explore the rest of my swollen flesh.
“Styx,” I whispered and arched my back as he pulled the slip down the rest of my body until it was a discarded silk heap at the bottom of the bed. Styx’s mouth pressed against my foot then peppered a trail of kisses up my leg until it reached my core. Carefully parting my legs, he placed his wide shoulders between them and licked along my folds. My eyes closed as his fingers entered me and began to move. “Styx,” I whispered.
He moved faster, more determinedly, until his fingers rubbed the spot inside me that always made me fall apart. Once, twice, until my body clenched, my back arched, and a long moan sailed from my mouth as pleasure that only Styx could give me took me in its grip. Trust and love and safety. And light. Light so bright and pleasure so strong that I did not feel Styx move beside me until his lips met mine and his tongue pushed into my mouth. I lifted my chest until my skin met his. Warm against hot, hard against soft, and rough against smooth.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, rolled him onto his back, and straddled his waist. My hands slipped down to his chest. Styx’s eyes were dilated with need. Then his lips hooked into a smirk as his hands landed on my stomach. I knew Styx loved me, had known it since I had found him again. But since I had been pregnant, there was more in his gaze. A new form of love, more intense and sacred. Deeper and more connected. A part of him now lived within me, the beating heart of our love’s creation inside my body.
Lifting my hips, I placed Styx at my entrance, and slowly, without breaking eye contact, lowered myself until I was full of him. Styx inside me in both flesh and soul.
“Mae,” he whispered and moved his hands to grip my hips. I began to move, rocking slowly, feeling every inch of him within me. I gradually built up speed, leaning forward until my lips were kissing Styx’s. I drew back, keeping my face no more than an inch from his. I laid my hands on his cheeks and felt his hips begin to move faster, thrusting up to meet my movements. I searched his eyes, hoping to find the answers to what worried him. But all I saw was his love for me, silently loud and uncensored. Styx struggled with words, but he did not need them to show me he cared. I saw it. I felt it within him every day.
“I love you,” I whispered as his thrusts began to build in speed. Styx’s lips parted and I saw him fighting to return the sentiment. And I saw the pain in his eyes, the frustration when those words would not come forth. “I know,” I whispered and kissed his cheek. “I know you love me too.”
Styx’s teeth gritted together, and I saw the familiar anger taking hold. So I sat back. A long groan came from his throat as his muscles corded and his hands squeezed my rolling hips. “Styx,” I murmured as I felt my channel begin to tighten. I stretched my arms back until my hands landed on his thighs. Styx’s fingers fell to my core and began to rub the spot which broke me apart. I stilled as pure pleasure ran through my body. A low growl sounded from Styx’s mouth, and then I felt his warmth filling me.
I jerked as I came down from my high and opened my eyes. Styx was already staring at me. Crawling forward, I kissed his lips softly, briefly, then said, “I love you so much, River Nash. I hope you know that.”
Styx lifted his head and kissed me. He kissed me so hard and so thoroughly that I was breathless when he broke away. I smiled and watched as happiness filled his gaze. Then, slipping from the bed, I held out my hand. Styx frowned but took my hand regardless.
I led him to the bathroom and to the tub where the fragrant hot water waited. Candles flickered around the dark room, casting a warm glow on the wooden walls. Styx’s arms came over my shoulders, his hands visible before my eyes. “You did all this?” he signed.
“Yes,” I replied and turned in his arms. Styx was watching me, as if he was trying to work out why. “Come,” I said and used his hand to steady my entrance into the tub. Styx came behind me, and we lowered ourselves until we were submerged in lavender-scented heat, my back against his chest and Styx’s arms around my waist.
I sighed with contentment and felt Styx lay three kisses on the side of my neck. I leaned into his touch and threaded my fingers through his. As Johnny Cash sang his gospel songs, I brought our joined hands to lie over my heart and said, “Tell me what is wrong.”
Every muscle in Styx’s body tensed. He tried to pull his hand from mine. I knew it was so he could sign, and I held on tightly, halting his movements.
“No,” I said and looked up to his face. His jaw was clenched, and I saw fear in his hazel stare. Real fear. “Talk to me.” I heard the pl
eading tone in my voice. I begged with my eyes and could see the despair that lay in his. He turned his head to avert his gaze. “Baby,” I whispered. Then I felt my heart break when he turned to me again and opened his mouth. He was trying to speak, but no words came forth. His head ticced and his eyes blinked, and I watched the man I loved fight against the tightness in his throat. I witnessed the pain in his eyes and saw embarrassment blossom on his stubbled cheeks.
Shaking my head, I released his hand, returning his ability to speak. Styx breathed out in relief as he lifted his hands. But they froze in midair. He closed his eyes then signed, “I’m just going through some shit in my head, babe.” My stomach fell at his too-vague confession. His eyes opened, and I knew he saw my disappointment because he lowered his hands to my face and managed to stutter, “I . . . I . . . l-l-l-love y-y-you.”
My heart melted, my soul cried, and I laid my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. “You can talk to me. No matter the problem, even if it’s club business, I would understand.”
Styx stilled, and I heard his sigh of frustration. He signed, “You’re my fucking everything, Mae. Never fucking doubt that.” His hand ran over my bump and rose again. “You and our kid. But I can’t . . .” He paused. “I can’t . . .”
“Shh,” I said and lowered his hands with mine. “It is all right.” I saw the sadness in his eyes. “You do not need to say.” Getting to my knees, I kissed his lips. “But when you are ready to talk, I will be here. I am always going to be here for you.”
I saw his shoulders relax. Then he signed, “I can’t fucking wait for you to be my wife. Finally. My motherfucking wife after all these years.”
All the tension, all the worry that perhaps it was the wedding, that he had changed his mind about me drifted from my mind with that single declaration. And I saw it written on his face. It was the truth. He so badly wanted us to be wed. He always had, ever since I came back.
