On the other hand, if anyone would ensure that I made it home in one piece, it’d be someone who worked for Jamie. I gave a small nod and pushed the button on the door handle to let myself in. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, still out of breath from my short jog.
“No problem. You live around here?” He flashed me another megawatt grin and my heart stuttered in my chest. It had to be the hormones and not some sudden affinity for tattooed bad boys.
“I live off Twenty-sixth and Smith,” I answered distractedly while wiping the raindrops from the plastic bag containing my books.
He let out a low whistle. “Shit, that’s quite a walk. I’m Ryan, by the way. I should’ve led with that.”
I laughed. “I guess I should’ve asked before climbing in. I’m Celia.”
“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”
Yiayia had loved Shakespeare almost as much as she loved me, so it was no surprise that when my parents were struggling to come up with a name, she swooped in and saved the day.
Rosalind may have been the favorite in As You Like It, but Celia was a force to be reckoned with. It was also fitting that, like Shakespeare’s Celia, I should’ve fallen in love with the scoundrel.
Instead of accepting the compliment, I just pointed to the house. “I’m right here. Thanks again.”
Ryan parked the truck and followed me up to the porch. “Celia, wait. Could I—”
“Hello again,” the older man called from across the street. He was now sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. “Quite the storm we’re having.”
“It sure is!”
“Celia,” Ryan tried again. “I want to—”
The sound of a motorcycle drowned out whatever he was about to say and the man across the street jumped up from his chair with a frown.
Jamie observed the entire scene within seconds, his eyes narrowing in anger. “Celia,” he growled.
Ryan held his hands out in front of him. “Grey, I didn’t know she was your girl, I swear. I just gave her a ride.”
I wanted to vomit.
“We don’t need trouble in this neighborhood,” the man across the street yelled. “Leave them alone or I’ll call the police!”
“Fuck off, old man!” Grey snarled, not even bothering to turn around.
“Jam—Grey,” I began, before he cut me off.
“Get your ass inside, Celia.”
Another truck pulled up and a biker got out with a large cardboard box in his hands. “Everything okay, Grey?”
Ryan ran a hand over his face, looking about like I imagined I did, and I gave him a regretful smile before obeying my new master.
Lucy had been pretty straightforward about how I was meant to act if I wanted to fit in. “Apologies don’t exist in our world, Celia. We live and die by code.”
I pulled open the screen door, just as our neighbor went inside, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Any visions I had of neighborhood get-togethers were actively being crushed under a certain blond biker’s motorcycle boot.
If Jamie and I were a normal couple, I would’ve stayed to defend myself and the poor guy whose only sin was offering me a ride in the rain.
I placed the books on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, waiting to accept my fate. Their voices were too low to make out anything and I couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad thing. Yelling would typically be a bad sign, but with bikers, who could say?
The door swung open and I wrapped my arms around myself protectively as Jamie strode in with the cardboard box in his arms. He dropped it next to my books before glaring down at me. “What the fuck was that?”
I tilted my chin up at him defiantly before remembering Lucy’s words and lowering it again. “I walked to the library and Ryan gave me a ride home. That’s it.”
He ran his tongue across his teeth with a menacing grin. “Oh, it’s Ryan now? My apologies. So, did you tell him you were knocked up before or after you fucked him?”
I jumped up from the couch and stormed over to him, running on pure adrenaline. I jabbed my finger into his chest. “Do not speak to me like that! I didn’t do anything, and you know it!”
I was a lethal combination of angry and scared, and my brief Ol’ Lady training went right out the window.
“Do I?” he roared in my face. “Your fucking nipples are showing through your dress—”
“Because it’s raining, Jamie! I was walking home when the storm hit. Ryan offered me a ride. That’s it!
I turned to go into the kitchen, needing to put some distance between us, when his strong arm caught my elbow, pulling me back. “Where the fuck are you goin’?”
I tugged against his grip. “I’m getting away from you until you calm down enough to think rationally. Let me go.”
“Ain’t letting you go until you tell me why you’re accepting rides from strangers. He could’ve been an enemy of the club’s; you don’t fuckin’ know.” His icy blue eyes still glinted with rage and something else I couldn’t identify.
“It was raining, and he said he worked at your tattoo place. I thought if I was going to get a ride from anyone, he was the safest bet, okay?”
He loosened his hold on me and I saw the look in his eyes for what it was—fear. He thought I’d already changed my mind—about him… about us.
What did they do to you, Jamie?
“Can we just agree that it’s been a very emotional day and call a truce? I’m exhausted.” A tear slipped free and I swiped at it in frustration.
“I just thought when I saw his truck—”
“I know what you thought, and I get it, but if this is going to work,” I gestured between us. “You have to trust me. It may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t like being made to feel like a whore in front of your friends. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with and you are the only man I’ll ever be with.”
He pulled me up against his chest and wrapped my hair up in his fist.
I tried for distraction. “What’s in the box?”
Jamie pulled back, fighting a smile. “I got you something.”
I wanted to stay mad at him for acting like an idiot, but his excitement was contagious, and I found myself grinning up at him.
As Molière had so eloquently put it— ‘How easy love makes fools of us.’
“Sit.” He pulled a small square suitcase from the box and placed it on the coffee table.
At my pursed lips, he opened it up to reveal a vintage record player. The vinyl casing was cracked and peeling in some areas, indicating that it had been well-loved at one point in time.
“Jamie,” I breathed. It was exactly what I would’ve picked out for myself.
“Not done, princess.” He retrieved the Fleetwood Mac Rumours album that I’d been eyeing in the record store the day that we conceived our baby and I brought my hand up over my mouth with a soft gasp.
The tears that had begun to fall were quickly replaced with laughter when he placed George Michael’s Faith album down next to it.
“I know how much this album means to you,” he deadpanned.
I hopped up, ignoring another twinge of pain as I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his chin. “Thank you.”
He started off sweet, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before letting his hands trail down my spine to cup my butt. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist as he lifted me, my nipples hardening as they brushed up against his chest. I leaned into his touch, moaning in both pleasure and pain.
It was too much.
It wasn’t enough.
My eyes fluttered shut when his hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back and baring my neck to his mouth. He rained kisses along my jawline and down the front of my throat before sinking his teeth into the flesh near my shoulder as he walked us back toward the couch.
I sucked in a breath and gripped his shoulders as he settled me across his lap, my body tightening and clenching from the contact.
My hips seemed to rock forward of their own
volition, seeking the friction from the rough denim. The dress rode up over my hips and Jamie began undoing the buttons, but I was too far gone to care.
I needed this… and him.
“Celia.” His warm breath moved over my shoulder and down to my breasts as he tilted me back in his arms. “So fucking perfect.”
I looked down at him, feeling like I had that night Molly dragged me to Leather & Lace; intoxicated and in a fog. Jamie had managed to remove my dress and bra while I’d been shamelessly pleasuring myself using his lap.
He stared up at me, looking as impaired as I felt. Maybe we were just drunk on each other. When I made no move to respond to the compliment, he dropped his hand between us, dragging the pads of his fingers over the front of my panties.
“So wet,” he murmured before pulling them to the side. “You’re creaming all over my jeans.”
I was soaked, but instead of feeling embarrassed, I tried to see my body as he did. I shifted against him and looked down; my long hair falling over my breasts and down to a still-flat stomach. My nipples peeked out from behind the dark curtain of hair and Grey let out a low growl before brushing it back to take one in his mouth.
My mouth fell open in a startled cry at the sensitivity and my nails dug into his shoulder blades as he took my sounds as those of pleasure and sucked harder.
I jolted at the cold bite from the metal of his skull ring as it brushed against my folds and let out a soft whimper as he began to force it into my body. Before I had a chance to adjust to the sudden invasion, his other hand came down hard against my backside pushing his finger in deeper.
I jerked back in his arms and he stared through me with cold eyes. Goosebumps rose on my skin when I realized what was happening. It didn’t matter what I said; Jamie was convinced that I had done something wrong with Ryan. The record player… the albums… they were just a diversion to get me to let my guard down.
It wasn’t going to be like before.
This was punishment, plain and simple.
“I’m in charge here, princess.” He pumped his finger into me again with a growl. “Don’t try to pull one over on me. I know where you are at all times.”
My muscles tensed around him and I pressed a hand to his chest. “Please.”
He shoved into me again in response, harder this time. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, but I refused to blink. I refused to let him see me break. I would cling to what little control I possessed until he realized the truth.
“I know who you’re with.” His finger moved deeper, and I cried out. He smiled up at me, as if my pain amused him.
This was the monster that he’d warned me about. This was the man who ruthlessly ran the underworld. He got what he wanted by striking when people least expected it. I’d just been stupid enough to ignore the flashing red warning lights.
He picked up the pace, shoving his finger in and out of me. “There is nothing that you do that I don’t know about within minutes. And if you wanna act like a child, running around and breaking my rules, I’ll treat you like one.”
His hand came down again, stinging my flesh and filling my eyes. A dull ache spread throughout my lower body as his thrusts moved deeper. I was a rag doll, an object to be used and abused by its owner.
My body hovered in some in-between state as he took his frustrations out on me before the pain returned, slamming into me like a truck and forcing a shuddered breath from my lungs. “Y-you’re hurting me!”
I gulped in a breath of air before releasing the sob that had been building over the last few minutes. I no longer cared about retaining control. I just wanted it to stop.
Jamie pulled his finger from my body and I brought my hand up over my mouth with a whimper. He followed my eyes down to a finger stained pink with my blood.
Without a word, I slid from his lap onto the floor, curling my arms around myself protectively.
Jamie dropped to his knees beside me. “Fuck, Celia. I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry!”
“D-don’t hurt m-me!” I forced out with another sob.
I realized then that Lucy was wrong. Bikers were capable of apologizing, but only when they’d done the unthinkable.
Chapter Fifteen
Celia: 1989
In Homer’s Odyssey, Calypso was a nymph stranded on the mythical island of Ogygia. She kept the Greek hero, Odysseus, for seven years; entertaining him with her singing until the gods demanded he be released to return to his true love. It was never in his destiny to live with her forever. Some say she later bore him a child, yet he never returned for either of them.
According to Homer, Calypso was a captor, holding Odysseus prisoner. I saw her for what she was though; an isolated woman, desperate for love.
She must’ve had powers that I would never possess. I hadn’t once been able to convince Jamie to leave his true love behind and run away with me.
The siren song of the club would always drown out my voice. In the five months we’d lived together, he’d stayed overnight twice. He’d come home, usually with other bikers, and eat before heading out again. Ever since that night, though, it was as if he went out of his way to ensure we were never alone again.
I wasn’t invited to family events at the club, and even Lucy couldn’t tell me what I’d done wrong. My days consisted of the same things—supermarket and library runs, but I was very much a prisoner in this house.
I didn’t lose our baby that night, but I lost Jamie. He’d called the club doctor to the house and paced frantically, rubbing his hands over his face while the doctor checked me over.
It was reassuring to know that what I’d experienced was normal and most likely the result of my long trek to the library. I was ordered to take it easy for a few days, but something had changed.
Jamie hadn’t touched me since and it seemed that he couldn’t even look at me with anything other than regret. The first time I placed his hand on my growing belly, he’d yanked it back as though he’d been burned.
I didn’t try again.
The remainder of my first trimester had been spent on the bathroom floor, scared and alone. The calls to my mother went unreturned and I was forced to rely on the library’s pregnancy books to get through.
Just as Lucy predicted, there was no talk of marriage or even what we were going to do when the baby came. Month after month, the nursery sat empty and I began to slip into a sadness that I couldn’t seem to shake. Were it not for the baby’s daily kicks, reminding me that I had a purpose, I wasn’t sure I would’ve made it.
My breasts were fuller, and everything had become a little rounder, yet the man I wanted more than anything couldn’t stand the sight of me. I needed to be touched but had grown accustomed to wrapping my body around his pillow at night.
“Celia!”
I let out a shuddering breath and sat up in bed. All traces of sunlight were gone, meaning I’d been asleep for far longer than planned. It also meant that there was no meal waiting on the table either.
I straightened my oversized shirt dress and stood up, nearly toppling back onto the bed from the dizziness. It had persisted, despite the pregnancy book stating it wouldn’t. If I moved slowly, things stayed level. It was when I moved too quickly that everything spun out of control.
The bedroom door was thrown open and I stumbled back into the nightstand with a cry, sending the lamp over onto the carpet.
“Celia, what the fuck are you doing?” Jamie demanded.
I rubbed my hip, knowing I was going to bruise. “I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”
“You fell asleep? I told you Slim was riding in.”
I resisted the urge to hurl one of my pregnancy books at his head, remembering Lucy’s words. An Ol’ Lady never disrespected her man and kept her emotions in check.
It turned out, I didn’t much like being an Ol’ Lady.
Right on cue, the evening nausea hit, and I stumbled past him and into the master bathroom. That was another thing the books had sworn would go away. However, fro
m seven to eight, my body begged to differ.
I knew he wouldn’t follow me in, so I was surprised when the hinges on the door squeaked as it was pushed open. I hastily wiped my streaming eyes and looked up to see an unfamiliar face. I scooted back in surprise, my butt hitting the wall, as I scrambled to get my feet under me.
“Hey, it’s alright. I’m Slim,” the man held his hand out and then lowered his voice. “But you can call me John.”
He was tall and tattooed, like Jamie, but that was where the similarities ended. John’s hair and beard were jet black, where Jamie’s were blond, and his eyes held a softness that my biker no longer possessed.
“C-Celia,” I cleared my throat and placed my hand in his. “I’m sorry about dinner. If you don’t mind waiting, I can get something going—”
John frowned. “You’re gonna sit your ass right here and let us take care of you, Darlin’. How many weeks are ya?”
I grinned up at him. It felt foreign. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled. “Almost twenty-seven weeks. Do you want to feel?”
He rested his hand against my belly and the baby began kicking, excited to hear a male voice. When his face lit up, I wished that he was Jamie.
“I’d say you’ve got yourself a wild one in there. Must take after its daddy.”
I nodded, confused by his words. Jamie was feral, not wild. He’d been born in captivity but had escaped and learned to fend for himself in the wild. Wild animals could become domesticated with the right people. The feral ones remembered their cages and refused to ever be tied down again.
“Still dealing with morning sickness?”
I nodded, wanting to soak up every drop of attention this biker was giving me.
“I think I got something in my saddlebag that’ll do the trick.” He disappeared and the guilt returned. I should’ve been serving them, not the other way around.
The door opened again, and Jamie leaned in. “Slim?”
I chewed the inside of my lip and focused on the wallpaper above his head as I answered. “He went to get something from his saddlebag.”
“You okay?”
Deserter Page 17
