Deserter

by Myers, Shannon

  “Celia!” I screamed and the baby began sobbing again. “Celia!”

  “Jamie, wake up!” A voice whispered near my ear and I shot up with a gasp, colliding with a warm body. “Ow.”

  “Celia?”

  She groaned in response and I patted along her body. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Little bit. You’re a lot harder than you look. It was just a nightmare.” Her long hair tickled my face and neck as she crawled into my lap and settled against my chest.

  I’d seen a world where she no longer existed, and I realized that I’d never survive without her. I’d been convinced that I was breaking her down and molding her into what I wanted her to be, yet she’d shown up tonight with a sledgehammer and taken down walls I hadn’t even known I had.

  I took the weapon from her hands and demolished the door to a room I’d kept locked up for nine years. “My ma—” My throat tightened, doing its best to keep me from entering my past.

  Celia’s arms tightened around my neck. “You can tell me. Don’t be afraid.”

  I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t afraid of shit, but sitting with her in my lap, surrounded by darkness, I found that I didn’t have to be tough.

  She needed me.

  The real me.

  “My old man was a piece of shit.” I threaded my fingers through her hair, needing the distraction. “He, uh, he wasn’t the same after coming home from Vietnam. He smacked Ma around a lot. When he joined Wolverine’s club, I thought things would get better. He’d get out of the house and she and I could get back to the way things were before.”

  My voice didn’t sound like mine. It was slow and methodical, like an actor on television. Celia burrowed her face into the side of my neck, her hands softly stroking my back.

  “Ma fell for another biker in the club and got knocked up.”

  Her hands stopped moving and she sat up slowly. “Your ma got pregnant by someone else? Was he—was he a good man?”

  For the life of me I’d never understand why Wolverine had allowed it to happen. I’d seen Ol’ Ladies discarded by their men and they were still off-limits to any other brother in the club. Club whores had been sent packing if they came between two brothers, yet Wolverine had turned a blind eye to Angel and Mary.

  I wondered how different our lives would’ve been if he hadn’t.

  I clenched my jaw and nodded. “Yeah, Angel was a fuckin’ saint compared to Donald. Obviously, my old man assumed the kid was his, but that didn’t stop him from beating the shit out of her anyway. She lost the baby on a fuckin’ motel bathroom floor.”

  Celia sucked in a breath and whispered, “Jamie, no.”

  “I did everything I could, but I couldn’t fix it.” I stared over her shoulder into the darkness, doing my best to keep my face impassive while reliving every emotion from that night. “Angel, the biker she was with, came, but it was too late.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten.”

  “Jesus, you were just a kid.” Her voice was soft, but not pitying. Maybe she knew I couldn’t take her feeling sorry for me; especially not after the things I’d done.

  I wanted to tell her about my nightmare but giving it a voice would only make it seem more real. If I told her, I’d have to go back to that night and confess to what I’d done.

  Celia might’ve condoned a lot of my actions, but there was no way in hell her Catholic heart would be as forgiving. I’d killed my old man in cold blood and given the chance, I would watch the life leave his eyes all over again. His death had made me the man I was and exposed my need for pain.

  My girl would never see that side of me if I had anything to say about it. Celia was pure and I wasn’t about to taint her with the burden of my sins.

  She deserved better.

  My kids deserved better.

  Mikey had been a bitter reminder that the destiny of the wicked was destruction. The world wasn’t supposed to reward men like me, but holding her in my arms felt like redemption.

  “You came after me… even after the way I’ve treated you. Why?” I’d never been handed a goddamn thing in my miserable life, until her.

  I’d envisioned us going up like a bonfire and burning out just as quickly, but whatever it was between us had been burning steadily since our first night together.

  Celia kept her head down, making small circles across my shoulders with her hands as she thought about my question. “I guess it’s like when I volunteered to help with the Sacramental Prep class at church. There were a few children who struggled with some of the concepts and it was apparent that they weren’t being helped at home. Those were the ones who needed someone to guide them.”

  I tucked her head under my chin with a frown. “You lost me, princess. Ain’t stepped foot in a church in quite some time.”

  “I’m not asking you to go to church. First of all, confession alone would take forever… I’m talking years—”

  “Is that so?” I worked my fingers under her arms, and she squirmed to get away with a shriek of laughter.

  “Stop! Stop! Oh my god, I’m going to pee!”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Hang on. Just give me two seconds.” Celia shifted off my lap, still naked, and bolted for the bathroom. The momentum forced a heavy object against my shin with a clink.

  “Celia, why do you have a gun?”

  “Um, just give me a second,” she called from behind the bathroom door. I turned it over in my hands, feeling every notch and groove until I became convinced that it was mine.

  The door reopened and she climbed back into bed beside me. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  I strained to see her face in the dark, wondering what in the hell she thought I’d find funny about this. “You had a gun… in your lap. I’m not laughing.”

  “I found it when I was cleaning. You were screaming in your sleep and I thought that someone was hurting you. I wasn’t about to let that happen.” She cleared her throat and looked down at the sheets.

  She’d grabbed a gun to defend me; the woman was carrying a baby, yet her first thought had been my safety.

  “And your catechism class analogy?”

  “Wait, you’re Catholic? I thought you were kidding with the whole church comment. Did you grow up going to mass or—”

  “Celia,” I warned with a growl.

  She sighed. “Fine. I came after you because that’s what you do when you love someone. It finally hit me after you and John left that I was expecting something from you that you weren’t capable of giving.”

  I wasn’t and she deserved better. Life had taken what little humanity I possessed and stripped it away until I was nothing more than a machine.

  “You’ve never been loved the way you deserve to be loved and I could say it until I’m blue in the face. Some things can’t be said though, Jamie. Some things have to be shown. So, I came after you and I will keep coming after you because you’re my family now.”

  I stopped breathing at her confession. She was handing me the one thing I’d never truly had; something that I couldn’t buy with all the money in the world—a family.

  Just like that, Celia Cross took down another wall.

  Wolverine had sworn that she was too young; too sheltered to make it in this world, but I’d just become convinced that her emotional maturity completely eclipsed mine.

  Donald hadn’t loved my ma. He’d wanted to possess her, like a child with a toy. I had similar thoughts when I collected the debt her daddy owed, but Celia wasn’t my mother.

  Ma had let my old man consume her until she was a walking corpse. With the exception of Celia’s body, I hadn’t been able to take anything by force. I’d gotten my pound of flesh, but the rest had to be given to me, only when she was ready.

  She was willingly handing herself over to a savage.

  “Please say something.”

  The only thing I’d ever loved was pain, but I was addicted to Celia and didn’t plan on ever getting clean.

  I spu
n the skull ring around my finger once before pulling it off. “Marry me.”

  “Are you messing with me?” she asked slowly and I swatted her bare thigh with my palm in response, before dropping the ring into her hand.

  “Yes or no, princess?”

  “Y-yes.” There was just enough light streaming in from the bathroom for me to see her staring blankly down at the ring.

  “I’ll get you somethin’ better.” I’d get her an entire jewelry store if she wanted it.

  She shook her head and slipped the oversized ring onto her finger. “It’s not that. The night that I was taken, I was so scared, and I remember focusing on this ring and the tattoo on your finger to get through it.”

  “I don’t want you to be scared of me—”

  Her mouth met mine, slowly at first, but then with urgency, until my only thought was being inside of her again.

  She wrapped herself around me, baby and all, chasing away my demons with every breath. I let her think that she was clinging to me, when really, it was the other way around.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Celia: 1990

  Molly peered over my shoulder, meeting my reflection in the mirror. “You scared?”

  “No.” I slid another bobby pin into my hair, securing the crown of flowers on top of my head with a smile. There was snow on the ground and flowers in my hair, proof that Persephone could hold death and life in the palm of her hand.

  I was about to become Jamie’s wife and in another two weeks, a mother.

  I should’ve been freaking out, but I was strangely content with the direction my life had taken. When Jamie opened up to me that night in the clubhouse, I’d held my breath, afraid to do anything that might shut him down again.

  And then he proposed.

  So, maybe he hadn’t gotten down on one knee or asked my father for my hand; in all honesty, nothing in our relationship had gone according to plan. I didn’t care. We were stupidly happy.

  I was more relaxed now than I’d ever been in my life. I wasn’t cramming for a test or trying to mimic the behaviors of other biker women.

  I was just me.

  I’d learned over the past two and a half months that life with Jamie was anything but monotonous. We’d had sex in the clubhouse and almost every room of our house—minus the newly completed nursery, obviously. We’d even had a tryst in the basement of the library, up against the stacks.

  It didn’t matter how late he was out with the club; I woke up almost every morning to him trailing kisses down my belly before settling between my legs.

  Maybe all men were like this. Unfortunately, there was absolutely no one I could ask. My mother still avoided my calls and was off-limits for obvious reasons, Lucy was tight-lipped when it came to that sort of thing, and Molly had never had children. I hadn’t seen Betsy since she took me to see Viktor, which left me to come to my own conclusions.

  Whatever the reason, Jamie and I hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other.

  “I’d be scared shitless if I were you. One dick, for the rest of my life? Wait a minute, what’s that look?”

  Two bright spots of color appeared on my cheeks and I looked back down at the small vanity table in front of me. A vanity table my groom had delivered to the clubhouse just for today. “What’s what look?” I mumbled.

  “Holy shit, he’s giving you so much dick you can’t even think of any others! Tell me what it’s like screwing the big boss. Does he slap your ass and tell you to call him ‘Pres?’ I bet he does—”

  “Molly,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Drop it.”

  Minus the ‘Pres’ part, her assumptions were fairly accurate. A lady didn’t kiss and tell though—even if said lady had spent the early morning hours down on her knees in the shower with a certain biker’s appendage in her mouth.

  I exhaled and shivered at the memory while Molly watched me suspiciously.

  “I see what this is—some weird pregnancy fetish going on. I guess you better enjoy it now before that kid blows out your vagina. You won’t be able to feel a thing after.”

  Wait—what?

  With a frown, I added another bobby pin. “I don’t think that’s accurate—”

  “Well, well. Speak of the devil.” Molly turned back toward the door. “You know it’s bad luck to see her before the wedding, right?”

  “Don’t give a fuck,” Jamie growled. “Get out.”

  Instead of slinking away, Molly threw her head back and laughed as she passed him on the way to the door. “I see what this is, you two! ‘Girl, you know it's true…ooh, ooh, ooh I love you. Yes, you know it's true—’”

  Jamie slammed the door, cutting her off mid-chorus. “Jesus, she’s obnoxious.”

  His intense stare met mine in the mirror and I shivered. Sometimes it felt as if those blue eyes could see my every thought. He was wearing his trademark dark jeans, along with his leather vest over a long-sleeve white t-shirt.

  “You’re not wearing a tux?”

  The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “I look like the type of guy who’s putting on a fuckin’ suit? Told you that you didn’t need a dress either; I got your kutte right here.”

  He held up a matching leather vest with the charming phrase, Property of Grey, emblazoned across the back.

  Hell would freeze over before I put it on.

  I preferred my ivory empire-waisted gown with satin laurel leaves sewn onto the shoulders. I’d found it in the most unlikely of places, along with a long-buried family secret.

  Apparently, I took after Yiayia in more ways than one because the dress had been custom-made but fit me like a glove. It appeared as if I hadn’t been the only one to bring a baby to their wedding ceremony. To me, it was a sign that she was still with me and today, of all days, I needed that.

  If she were here, she’d be flitting about the room, unable to sit still from excitement. She would’ve pinned the flower crown to my hair while proclaiming that I put all the other goddesses to shame.

  And a Greek goddess wouldn’t be caught dead in a leather vest; especially not one that stated she was nothing more than property.

  I stood up and twirled in a small circle, blinking away the tears. “Don’t you like my dress?”

  He lowered the vest a few inches and took me in. “You’re a fuckin’ knockout, Celia—with, or without the dress.” He paused before adding, “Makes your tits look nice though.”

  “So, I can wear it?”

  He shook his head. “You need to wear this; sends a message to every man out there. They need to know who you belong to.”

  Ah, the fragile ego of bikers.

  I crossed the room and took his hands in mine, letting the vest drop to the floor where it belonged, before placing his palms against my belly. “Baby, they should already know who I belong to, with or without the vest. You’re the leader. They should recognize me on sight and know that I’m off-limits.”

  Comedian had been right. Jamie had dealt with the three bikers who’d talked of gang-raping me, to the point that they wouldn’t even raise their heads to look at me when I was at the clubhouse.

  His lips parted and he ran his tongue across his teeth. “You really don’t wanna wear that kutte, do you, princess?”

  Okay, that hadn’t worked out liked I’d hoped.

  “A lion doesn’t have to tell people it’s a lion, does it? I’m yours… forever and ever. Just let me wear Yiayia’s wedding gown… please.”

  Jamie chuckled. “That’s Yiayia’s and it fits?”

  I swatted his shoulder. “Yes, it fits. I guess she had a secret of her own.”

  He slid his hand down the satin and cupped between my legs. “You don’t wanna wear the kutte, you don’t have to.” When I looked up at him questioningly, his face became serious. “Gonna mark you one way or another before you leave this room though. You may not have my name on your back, but you’ll feel me running down your thighs the rest of the day.”

  I nodded my agreement as he walked me b
ack toward the vanity, bunching my dress up in his hands. When he spun me around to face the mirror, I was struck again by the contrast between us. I looked almost virginal in my cream gown while my biker looked like he’d just escaped Hell. The demon sent to spirit me away to the underworld.

  “You know, the ancient Greeks believed that you couldn’t have a wedding without Hymen, the god of marriage ceremonies. As the bride was led to the groom’s house, they would call out his name.”

  “Hymen, huh?” Jamie asked, resting his hand against my throat. “Could’ve sworn I took that from you and, if I recall correctly, it was my name you were screaming.”

  I exhaled softly. “Does it bother you that your bride has been compromised?”

  I expected a chuckle or a smirk, but Jamie lowered his hand with a frown. “Why would that bother me? I dragged you into this lifestyle and as fucked up as it is, knowing I’m the one who defiled you fills me with pride. I’m all you’ve ever known… I’m all you’ll ever fuckin’ know.”

  We watched each other’s reflections in silence before he guided me forward. “Stay like this,” he commanded, pushing my chest against the cool surface of the vanity top. His belt buckle jingled and then he was pressed up against me. “Watch me, baby.”

  I let out a low groan as he sank into me but kept my eyes on his reflection. His face was a mask of concentration, even as his fist clenched around my dress.

  My lower back ached from being on my feet the day before, but it was forgotten as soon as he began thrusting inside of me. The next few minutes passed in a blur of rough breathing and a low growl against my neck as Jamie filled me.

  I stayed hunched over the vanity as he straightened, afraid my legs wouldn’t hold me up. He playfully swatted my backside. “Let’s get you put back together. I got a surprise.”

  My flower crown had shifted and fallen over one eyebrow. I straightened and secured it with another bobby pin while Jamie adjusted my dress.

  “There you are, baby. Good as new.”

  “What’s the surprise?”

  He ran the pad of his thumb along his jawline. “That’s actually why I came in here—just got a little distracted. Wait right here.”