Frost (Reapers MC Book 15)

by Elizabeth Knox

  I stick to the side of the road and walk on the opposite side so oncoming traffic can see me. At least the snow hadn’t built up and the county’s been taking care of the roads. I walk until I reach the road that leads up to the club and continue walking. Last night when I stopped for the night to sleep, I grabbed a black hoodie so I wouldn’t freeze my ass off, so I tuck my hands in my pockets to protect them from the cold.

  A crunching sound comes from behind me, so I turn to see an SUV approaching. Hardly any people live back here, so it’s either a neighbor, or someone from the club. I’m within earshot of the club now, so at least I can see it.

  I put my hand over my eyes, blinded by the car lights and it rolls up closer. The driver’s side window comes down and I spot Bull’s ol’ lady, Alexa. But who’s beside her shocks me more than anything.

  “Chaz?!” Cheyenne’s face comes into my view.

  “Hey,” I reply, not sure what to say, or how to even start a conversation with her right now.

  “Are you seriously walking? Where’s your car?” Alexa asks, drawing her brows together.

  I put a hand behind my head, “Well, you see—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me you rode your bike up here.” Alexa snaps.

  Well, I’ve already been caught red-handed.

  Cheyenne cocks a brow, staring at me in a judgmental manner.

  “I left in a hurry. Wasn’t really thinking about it.” I reply, starting to continue my trek down to the club.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Get in the car, dummy.” Alexa growls.

  I watch as she unlocks her SUV and I head to the back door, pull it open and hop inside. Though, as I put my right leg up into the car, I let out a hiss, hating the burning sensation coming from my knee area.

  Cheyenne turns back in my direction, “Oh my God. I didn’t put it together until now. You got into an accident, didn’t you?”

  “Accident isn’t the right word. I slid across the road and scraped myself up, but otherwise I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s get you back to the club. I have a room in one of the new houses Zane built.” She replies.

  “Why do I have a feeling like I’m not gonna get out of it, even if I try?”

  “Because you won’t. Cheyenne is a real stickler.” Alexa giggles from the front seat, continuing to drive.

  Cheyenne eyes up my knee once again, “Yeah, there isn’t any way I’m not looking at that. You slashed your jeans open pretty good, and I don’t like the amount of blood I’m seeing. Here.” She hands me a cheetah print scarf.

  “Is this sterile?” I question, mocking her a bit.

  “Just put the damn thing over your wound and apply pressure. I need to know what I’m dealing with.” She tells me, so I take it from her hand and wrap it around my leg twice, then tie it in a knot.

  Alexa pulls up next to one of the newer houses that’ve been built on the property. One I haven’t seen yet since I’ve been in Vegas. It has a reclaimed barnwood sort of look on the first floor’s exterior, but as I scan my eyes up it shifts to a vertical metal in the middle, and stone on the left and right. Looks like Zane hired a damn architect, but given who we’re dealing with, it could be possible. Zane is one of those guys who does like nice shit. Something Fist taught him, I think. While he was a simple man, he did enjoy splurging on the club whenever he could, whether it was a barbeque or a new pool table.

  I get out as do the ladies, but Cheyenne walks around to my side of the car, like I can’t walk. “I’m fine,” I grit, and she raises her brows in response.

  The path to where she’s staying is plowed, so I continue up it until I’m on her porch. She puts the key in the door and pushes it open, holding a hand out for me to walk in first. I do, so I go on inside, and shit this place is as gorgeous as it is on the outside. Now I feel gypped. In Vegas we’re living in trailers and up here they’re getting gorgeous new construction. Shit. I mean, Sakura’s place is new and nice, but all the newly constructed buildings are either Sakura’s or for the Bad Bunnies.

  The door snaps closed and Cheyenne comes into my view. “Come in here.” She extends a hand, pointing to a full-sized bathroom on the first floor. It’s a pretty decent size, looking as nice as the rest of the house.

  “Take your pants off,” Cheyenne instructs me.

  I have to give myself a moment for what she asked to process. “Sorry, what?”

  “Take your pants off so I can look at you. I don’t like what I saw in the car.” She repeats.

  I nod, lean down and remove the scarf, tossing it on the floor and unbutton my pants. I kick them off along with my shoes, standing only in my hoodie and boxers. She goes to the closet and grabs some sort of leather bag. It reminds you of the type you see those crazy old doctors use in the insane asylum movies. You know, the ones where they pull the torture devices out of.

  She yanks out a brown bottle, a syringe in a packet and some smaller white stuff bound up like thread is. “Oh fuck no. I don’t do needles, or stitches.”

  “Says the man who got poked every week for what, over a year?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

  “I didn’t have a choice back then.”

  “And you don’t have one now unless you want that to get infected!” She snaps, “Now go sit on the edge of the tub while I stitch you up.”

  “Are you going to drown me before or after?”

  “What?” She narrows her eyes in on me.

  “You brought me into the bathroom, so I figure you’re doing it for an easy murder clean up.”

  “God, I hate your morbid humor. I brought you in here so if you get blood on the tile it won’t be a big deal.”

  “Mhm,” I mutter, loathing what’s about to happen. She’s about ten seconds from grabbing a scalpel from her bag and stabbing it in my jugular.

  Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself . . . ‘cause the more I stare into her deep almond eyes, the more my cock swells with need for her.

  I’ve always wanted her, and I’ve never been the type to cheat. But, now that Crina and I are over . . . I can have a small taste of what I’ve always wanted.

  No, jugular. She’s going to stab you in the fucking jugular.

  Chapter Ten

  “Since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping wolf.”

  ~ William Shakespeare

  Cheyenne

  Dammit. While putting on my latex gloves, I realize I forgot to grab alcohol swabs, so I take them from my kit and rip open the small packages, rubbing them over his skin and wound before he can object. He hisses loudly, not a fan of the horrible burning. “Jesus. Did you have to do that?”

  I think for a second, he’s being sarcastic, but I know he isn’t. Chaz isn’t in the medical field. “Yep, unless you wanted to get an infection. It would’ve hurt more than that small simmer, so get over it.”

  I glance down to his knee, but from my peripheral vision I spot a smile tugging at his lips. Picking up the local anesthetic, I open the syringe, put it together and take the cap off the bottle, getting the amount I think should make it more comfortable for him. I should be able to numb him enough to not only put in the sutures, but prior to it check the wound for any foreign objects. I push the needle in, hearing him hiss but decide to work quickly. He’ll thank me later for it. Well, maybe.

  As I’m pushing the last of the lidocaine through the syringe, I look up into his eyes. “We’ll give it a couple of minutes to kick in before I start looking around but do me a favor and put this leg into the tub. I’m going to flush it with some warm salt water. It’s an old practice that most don’t use anymore, but it works like a charm to help kill anything else that might be lingering.”

  “Alright.”

  Rising, I go into the kitchen and grab a bowl from the cupboards. I probably have enough for about a quart, so I get two teaspoons of salt and toss it in the bowl, then turn the water on. It doesn’t need to be steaming hot, but it needs to be pretty warm. I get it somewhere be
tween the two and grab a clean dish cloth from the laundry room on the way back to the bathroom.

  “Fuck, I’m not going to like this. Am I?”

  Standing in the doorway, I refuse to lie to him. “No, probably not.”

  “Shit.”

  “To be fair, you brought this on yourself. You should’ve driven up here, not rode on your bike. Bet it’ll be a bitch to fix too.”

  “Ugh, thanks for reminding me about that. Hopefully my baby isn’t scratched up too bad.”

  I head over to Chaz and drop the dish cloth in the water, then put the bowl in the tub and wring the towel out, pressing it over the wound. I can’t even lie. I’m giving him better bedside service than I give most of my patients.

  I continue cleaning his wound, then pour the saltwater over it. He hisses again, but I kinda think he’s faking. It can’t hurt that badly. He’s been numbed for fuck’s sake.

  I give him a break for a few moments and it’s eerily quiet, so I decide to strike up some conversation while I’m cutting the surgical thread. “So, what’s new with you?”

  “Not much,” He tells me quietly, but I heard a rumor he was dating someone. I didn’t feel like asking about it before, but now I want to.

  “Oh? I thought you were dating some girl Rebel’s friends with.” I look up into his eyes to see if he’s going to try and lie to me.

  “I was, but I ended shit. It wasn’t working out.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Are you?” He grabs me by the chin, holding on securely as he asks me. No, I’m not sorry to hear it. In fact, I’m glad he broke up with her because I’ve been thinking about what could’ve been since I left Las Vegas.

  I fail to give him an answer and decide to get to work, stitching him up nice and clean. At which point he takes his hand away. We both stay silent, neither of us making a peep except for the sound of us breathing. Once I feel satisfied with my work, I wrap gauze around his knee and tape it up. “You need to be easy on yourself the next few days. Sakura will be able to cut the stitches out in about two weeks.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “You’re probably going to be hurting tomorrow, so make sure to take some NSAIDS to help with the inflammation and swelling.”

  “NSAIDS?”

  “Advil, ibuprofen, naproxen sodium. Stuff like that.” Unless you’re somehow in the medical field, no one knows what an NSAID is.

  “You got it,” he mutters.

  I don’t know why I do, but I remain on the floor, kneeling in front of him. My heartbeat intensifies as each second passes, unsure of what I want to do, or how I want to act.

  “I came to see you, ‘cause I couldn’t keep wondering if this was going to work. I . . . I got hurt by her, so I ended shit. And it made me wonder what things would’ve been like if we gave this a shot, so I came here. ‘Cause I needed to see you, Chey’. I fucking miss you. I miss you more than you realize. You’re one of my best friends.” Chaz and I have been through so much together. When his hands were shattered by an enemy of the club, Sakura and I would swap shifts in the hospital with him. While we didn’t work there, we both put in twelve hours at a time just being there for him. He needed support and we were the best equipped for doing that.

  God dammit. It’s been ages since I’ve had a good lay, and that was with Cirque. She and I would romp around every now and again, but she wasn’t anything serious. She just wanted good sex that wasn’t with a client. I just wanted sex. It worked for both sides.

  “Fuck it,” I hiss, grabbing his cock through his boxers the soft jersey material doesn’t hide the half hard state of his manhood. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but he must’ve been thinking about me. It’s the only thing I can think of.

  “Chey’,” his tone is a warning, but I don’t give a fuck. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to fucking do this. Hell, I’d be lying if I said I never thought about what it would be like to be with him. It’s a sinful dream, but one I’ve had a few times. Simply wondering, letting the fantasy toy with me.

  I pull his cock through the hole in his boxers and wrap my mouth around it, taking him all the way back into my throat. There won’t be any going back from this, so I want to make sure it’s good for both of us. In fact, I need to make sure it’s good for us.

  Taking my head back a bit, I flick my tongue against the head of his cock, tasting his saltiness oozing from his member. I wrap my tongue around his head, licking him like a lollipop while a hand fists the base of his cock, pumping up and down.

  I place my other hand over his balls, squeezing gently, missing the way it feels to have a man’s pleasure in the palm of my hand—literally. I’ve only fucked women for so long. I forgot about the power this gives you, the way heat soars through every part of your body.

  He tenses up, grabs the back of my hair and holds my head, pumping his cock into me. Somehow, he’s taken control and is fucking my mouth like it’s my pussy, not that I’m complaining. My core is flooding with heat at what he’s doing, how he’s becoming dominant and taking what he feels is his. It’s fucking hot. God, I’m fucking drooling.

  Chaz halts, shoving his cock the furthest down my throat that he can and growls. “Fuck, Chey’. Fucking Christ.” He pulls out his cock halfway through shooting his load and it splatters across my face. I take a finger and wipe away some of his essence, then lick it. I could care less if it’s cum from a man or a woman. It’s hot, seeing and physically tasting how I can make them let loose.

  “I want to ride your cock,” I growl, stripping out of my clothes faster than I ever remember doing so before. He drops down into the clawfoot soaking tub and I get in, lowering myself on top of him.

  Chaz grabs me by the neck and puts a hand on my hip, fucking me while I fuck him. He stretches my walls wide, grinding against my G-spot and hisses when I tilt my hips to the back a bit. “Jesus, you keep doin’ that and I’m gonna shoot you full of my load.”

  I snicker lightly, grabbing a fist full of his hair and yank back. “I figure you’re going to leave again, so fuck me until I can’t remember what it’s like to be fucked by anyone else. I’m yours for the night, Chaz. Fill me up like your little cumslut.”

  He tightens his grip around my neck, smirking like a devious devil and growls. “God dammit, you just had to say that shit.” He drives his cock into me like we’re rabbits. I grind down on him when he’s coming up and before I know it, we’re both entering a blissful release.

  I begin to scream, but he shoves three fingers down my throat until I’m gagging, still pounding his member inside me. “That’s it, gag for me. Take all my fuckin’ cum, Chey’. Take it all.”

  Good god. I’ve never felt this free. I’d wondered what it would be like to be with him, but this is better than I ever could’ve imagined.

  He’s decadent.

  He’s fucking delicious.

  Chaz might be the drug I could never quit, given the opportunity.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lust rushes, but love waits.

  ~ Brigette Devoue

  Chaz

  Here I am, like a sick fucking bastard, sneaking my way out of where she’s staying. I can’t figure out why guilt is haunting me, but I feel like I’m fucking shit up between us, like I should’ve never given in and fucked her. The entire night we were going at it and it’s now four in the morning. It’s four in the fucking morning and I’m leaving a note like a scorned lover. Luckily, I found a pen and paper in another one of the rooms. Picking it up, I look over it one more time.

  My Dearest Cheyenne,

  I hate myself right now. I hate myself for leaving you the way I have to, but I’m not blind. I fucked up yesterday. I rushed shit. I rushed shit because I was angry at her, and to act like I’m fine is wrong. The point is—I’m not fine.

  I was hurt by another woman and came to seek comfort in your arms. It was selfish, and if shit ever happens between us, I don’t want it to be like this. I can’t. I can’t let it be like this. I don�
�t want you to remember me this way, and fuck, I don’t know why I did it.

  My heart is torn into two different places here. One here, and one part of it back in Vegas. I don’t know what’s going on in my head, but I promise to sort shit out. I know you’ll understand and I know you’d tell me to take as much time as I need, but don’t fuckin’ wait for me Chey’. I need a little bit of time to process everything, and dammit, you know I can’t handle seeing you cry. I just lose my shit.

  Love,

  Chaz

  I set the paper back down on her bedside table and shuffle my way out of her bedroom without making a peep. I head down the stairs and exit the house she’s residing in, then walk over to the clubhouse. I’m gonna try to get a flight back to Vegas ‘cause I need to go back. The longer I stay here, the more I’ll use Cheyenne as a sexual form of therapy and I can’t do that. She deserves better. She doesn’t deserve a fucktard like me.

  I’m half-way down to the club when I see Zane standing in his living room, bouncing a little boy on his hip.

  Fuck it.

  Looks like I won’t be heading to the club after all. It’s a rarity to get the Prez of the entire club alone, so I’ll take my opportunity. Heading up the stone path, I’m on his porch and am knocking lightly on his door before I blink once.

  “Chaz, heard you were back.” Zane laughs, opening the door for me.

  “Yeah, came here for a breather . . . but I’ll be heading back to the airport to go back home.”

  “Oh? That was a quick trip.” He comments, cocking a brow.

  “Yeah, I realized I need to do some serious thinking.”

  He nods in understanding, “Something I get. C’mon in. Whenever you’re ready I’ll have one of the prospects drive you up to the airport.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, walking in past him. “I should be ready in about ten minutes if you want to shoot a text to one of them.”

  Zane grabs his cell from the island and taps it a few times. “Get your ass outside and warm up the truck. We have a full patch who needs a ride to the airport.”