Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Do I make you nervous?” Rogue asks.

  “No.”

  “Yeah?” This causes him intrigue, making him sit up, his dark stare locked on me. I can feel him watching me. It’s as if his watchful eyes are touching me, trailing their way over my hair, down my neck, and over my chest before making their way to my legs.

  I don’t look at him. I can’t do it. Because if I do, I’ll say something I shouldn’t. I can’t deny I’ve wanted him since the moment I first saw him. So, instead of admitting I like him, I respond, “Yeah.”

  “Then why are you shaking?” he asks, far too aware for someone who was drunk only moments ago. When I drop my gaze, I realize he’s right. My hands are trembling as they twist into each other.

  “It’s cold,” I bite out the lie as it burns my tongue. “Bikers are bad news.” I avert my gaze, because I don’t know why I tell him this, but I recall my dad telling me the same thing when I had a crush on Gunner when I was sixteen. That quickly subsided when I watched him paw everything in a skirt.

  “Are they? I thought your dad was a biker?” The curiosity in his tone has me snapping my attention back at him.

  “He was. That’s why he warned me off them,” I admit easily, reminding myself that my dad was a good man, even under all that leather and smoke. He didn’t hurt anyone. At least, not that I know of, because what I did learn in my years growing up around The Kovenant is that the club can make you do things you sometimes wouldn’t do.

  “Good man,” Rogue remarks. “Sometimes I wish I could’ve had another life, a different life,” he says, but he doesn’t look at me as he says this. His words are slurred, and his voice cracks. I know he’s drunk, and I shouldn’t do this, but my body has a mind of its own as I slink to my knees beside him. The cool wooden beams of our patio are hard under me, but I don’t care. I reach for the bottle, and Rogue relinquishes his hold on it. As he does this, our fingers brush against each other’s, and the heat of attraction sizzles through my veins at the contact.

  Rogue lifts his gaze to mine. We’re locked in a heated stare, and I don’t want anything to break it. His guard is down, and his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He watches me for a long moment, and as he leans forward, my heart skitters, stuttering in my chest when he stops inches from my mouth.

  He’s so close I can smell his cologne wafting over me, and the scent of alcohol on his warm breath feathers over my lips. A zing of excitement shoots through me, and my stomach tumbles with fluttering hummingbirds as Rogue’s lips touch mine in a kiss so light, so gentle, it’s as if the wings of a butterfly have tickled my mouth.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” he speaks against my mouth. “But I never claimed to be good, and I most definitely never claimed to be pious.” I can feel his smile. It’s dark, dangerous, filled with intent. “Tell me to stop,” he says, but I can’t find my words. My voice has taken a leave of absence, and I’m lost to the way Rogue’s mouth claims mine a second later.

  His tongue dances along mine, as the flavor of alcohol bursts on my tastebuds. His hands reach for me, gripping my hips as he lifts me effortlessly onto his lap, and I’m straddling him. His hardness at my core, my fingertips dancing along his smooth, inked skin. Our mouths fused with heat and desire, and I can’t stop my hips from rolling as I feel him against me.

  Large hands cup my butt, and he squeezes until I whimper into the kiss. I want to open my eyes, to see if he’s real and this isn’t a dream, but I don’t dare look. I don’t dare think of anything other than the way he feels right in this second. The material of his T-shirt flattens against the dips and peaks of his chest and stomach, and as I trail my fingertips over those smooth valleys, a groan of pleasure ripples in his throat.

  Darkness consumes me, just like Rogue’s mouth claims me. His hands are everywhere, and I wish he’d slip them under my top. I want to feel his touch on my bare skin. But he doesn’t do it. He does behave himself, even though I can feel he’s needy for more.

  When he finally breaks the kiss, his lips are shining under the dim light of the back porch. His gaze is locked on my face, taking in every inch of me. Close up, he is breathtakingly chiseled, like a goddamned statue made from the finest marble. Angular jaw, sharp nose, full lips. So perfect it would make even the gods weep.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he speaks, his voice rough and husky.

  My hands grip his shoulders, holding onto him because I don’t believe he’s real. I haven’t had a boyfriend before, not someone who wanted me anyway. So, for him to be here, under me, holding me, it feels surreal. But his words sting after the kiss, and I have to ask, “Why?”

  “Because I’m no good for girls like you,” he admits.

  “Girls like me? And what do you think I’m like?” Embarrassment burns in my cheeks, but I attempt confidence by squaring my shoulders, which only makes him chuckle.

  “Good girls. I only bring darkness, little spy.” I don’t doubt him. I believe he’s dangerous, and he can hurt me. He’ll only break my heart, but with me settled on his lap, with his hands still gripping me possessively, in this moment, I don’t care.

  “I’ve never done anything bad in my life. I haven’t even stayed out after curfew, but this” — I point between us — “this is what I want to do.”

  “A good girl and a bad boy is an equation for trouble.” Rogue laughs as he shakes his head.

  I can’t help but laugh too. “What do you know about equations, stalker?” I tease, my arms tangled around his neck. The closeness of his body, the heat of him warms me. Even though I know my mother would have a heart attack if she were to walk in on us right now, for a moment, I pretend I’m someone else. I make believe I’m not Trinity James, and I’m not a girl who’s doing something bad.

  “I know that if my lips and your lips touch right now, we’ll change everything. Our paths will cross, they’ll tangle together, and something tells me once that happens, we won’t be able to go back.”

  Tipping my head to the side, I regard him for a moment before asking, “Do you want to go back? Or would you want to?” I don’t know why his answer is so important to me. This isn’t a forever thing between us—it’s a crush. A short-lived moment I’ll probably remember for the rest of my life.

  “Maybe not.” Rogue leans forward, his hands still possessively holding onto me as if I were about to disappear. Or perhaps it’s the thought of me disappearing that has him holding on so tight.

  “Maybe not?”

  He shakes his head. “My name is Devlin,” he tells me suddenly. “I’m not exactly good for you,” he continues, his nose touching mine, his lips whispering over mine. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey, and I inhale the scent of him, knowing that if he were to ever leave, I’d always remember that smell.

  “Devlin,” I test his name, enjoying the feel of the syllables on my tongue. A smile graces his usually stoic expression, and I’m floored at just how handsome he is. My gaze drops to his mouth. His lip ring glints in the light. The fullness of his lower lip pouts, making me want to pull it between my teeth and bite down, gently. Just enough to earn me a groan of pleasure. I flick my tongue out to taste him, and I trail a taunting path over the pinkish flesh before doing just what I want, biting down until his fingers dig painfully into my hips. The groan that vibrates through his chest into mine makes me smile.

  The moment I let go, his left hand comes up to pull me against him, and he kisses me. It’s all-consuming how his flavor and his dominance overpower me, taking me into the depths of desire and darkness with him. His fingers tangle in my hair as he grips me, holding my head steady. I allow him the control. The softness of his tongue dances along mine, and he steals my breath, my moans and whimpers, and he takes me on a sensual ride that has my panties wet with need.

  I don’t know how long we sit there, tangled in each other, but when Rogue finally pulls away, I open my eyes and find his—black as night—staring right through me.

  10

  Rogue

  He
r gaze is shiny. Need and lust burn in those depths as she looks at me. It’s as if she’s seeing me—not Rogue the biker, not the bad boy who did stupid shit and caused the death of two of the most important people in his life. It’s like she’s looking at me, Devlin, the man who wants to be real.

  And I do. I want to be that for her. So fucking badly. But I’m not sure I can. I don’t know if I’m capable of changing. And I’m almost certain I’ll never be worthy of her, but the way she’s staring at me right now, a small niggle of surety tells me I could try to be.

  “I may be younger than most of the guys in the club, and I can easily kill and watch blood drip from wounds I caused without faltering or feeling guilt. But with you, I’m fucking scared.”

  “Scared of what?” There’s an innocence to her question. She doesn’t see the violence in my veins and the sinister need that races through my blood. I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tipping her head back so our gazes lock and hold.

  “How you make me want to be good.” My admission is husky, raw with emotion. “And I’m not good. I’m not even a fucking gentleman,” I grit through clenched teeth. My jaw ticks painfully when I think about my past littered with darkness and drenched in blood.

  “You keep saying that, but . . .” She shrugs. Her eyes are glassy as she regards me. Her cheeks a soft shade of pink that makes her otherwise olive complexion beautiful, and I wonder what she’d look like when she orgasms. Would her lips part on a soft breath, or would she scream my name the way I want her to?

  “But?”

  “I don’t know. You don’t seem so bad.” Her naive honesty makes me smile.

  Oh, if only you knew, little spy. “It’s only because you’re sitting on my dick that you think so,” I tell her, arching a brow, causing her cheeks to darken to a deep red.

  Trinity pushes off my lap, standing on wobbly legs, and I can’t help but grin at her. The need to see her shy, see her innocence, makes me want to continue our little game. I swallow back some more bourbon, which burns on the way down my throat.

  “Pushing me away doesn’t make you any stronger,” she tells me, crossing her arms over her chest, making those pert little tits look larger than they are. “Being on your own may feel good, and it may even get you by for a while, but it doesn’t let you live your life. Just like you told me to do the other night.”

  Tipping my head to the side, I consider her words before I push to my feet and loom over her. She’s much shorter than me, and when our gazes lock, I notice how she trembles. There’s nothing more I want right now than to pull her into my arms and feel her melt against me. But a girl like her needs stability, a relationship, and both of those are what I’m incapable of giving her.

  Not that I’d want to. But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie.

  “Drinking to forget doesn’t allow you to forget,” she says, causing me to snap my gaze to hers. Anger surges through me, and I step even closer to her. The softness of her tits against my chest makes every inch of me fire up with need.

  “Oh? And you’re an expert?” I challenge with a smirk I know comes across as me being an arrogant dick, but it’s for her own good. She looks up at me like I’ve hung the fucking moon in her sky.

  The roar of motorbikes breaks our connection, and I realize Dad’s home. I move quickly, leaving her behind on the back porch of her home, and make my way through the back door of mine. I don’t turn around because I know she’s watching me. The heat of her stare follows me, it engraves itself into my skin, and no matter how much I try, I can’t claw her out.

  When we didn’t find that jackass, Gunner, Raze, Joint, and I came home. Hack told us that they’d somehow caught on to his trace and sent us on a wild goose chase. The moment I pulled into Anchor Bay, it was Trinity I needed to see. After talking to Snake, I knew there was only one person who could talk me down from the edge of the fucking cliff I’d been on.

  I’m in the armchair flicking through my phone when Dad walks in dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a white tee, and his cut. He looks over at me, taking in the almost-empty bourbon bottle, and shakes his head.

  “You need to quit that bullshit,” he bites out, frustration clear in his tone. He can tell me to stop drinking every day until he’s taking his final breath, but I can’t. I won’t. It’s the only way I can ease the memories from haunting me. “It doesn’t take away from the past, son.” This time, his voice is lower, less angry, and more affectionate. A big, burly biker showing his emotion.

  I push to my feet, ignoring him as I swallow back the last mouthful of strong alcohol before flinging the bottle across the room. It hits the wall in an ear-piercing shatter, leaving my father and me in deafening silence in the aftermath.

  Then he says in a voice turned to ice, “If you keep hurting yourself, you’ll only join them. Is that what you want?”

  Anger flares once more, and I pierce him with a glare. “It’s what I deserve.” I try to shove by him, but my dad is a big man, double my size, and when he grabs my arm, hauling me back so we can look at each other face-to-face, I see it in his eyes—the hurt of what I just said. I don’t want to leave him, but I don’t know how else to live with the guilt anymore.

  “You don’t deserve the pain. Or the heavy weight of what happened. I wish you’d listen to me when I tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself at night so you can sleep in the same house as me?” Venom drips from every word, but my father doesn’t even flinch. Like I said—he’s strong, far stronger than I am, or ever will be.

  “Snake and the brothers are working on finding him. They’re bringing him here, to the warehouse,” Dad tells me with a solemn expression. “When we do, you have twenty-four hours to interrogate and torture. If Snake is happy with your work, you’ll be given the Enforcer patch because Paddy is leaving. I doubt you’ll need help, but if you do . . .” For years I’d been begging my father to let me claim my rightful place, to take my position as Enforcer, to be the man who ends the lives of those who deserve it. But he’s never wanted that for me, and I’ve been stuck as a member with nothing more than a vote in church.

  “Really?”

  He nods. “Snake agreed. When you come face-to-face with him, you will have to be strong enough to do the job, and I’m not talking about some small-time kids’ games, son. This isn’t just anyone. This is the President of Satan’s Serpents.” I know who it is. I’ve wanted revenge on the man who runs that pack of animals and knew one day he’ll be in my crosshairs. And when that day comes, I’ll slice him from ear-to-ear and ask him why he’s fucking smiling.

  11

  Rogue

  The sitting and waiting are the worst. While Hacker’s been working on a location, I’ve been pacing the wooden planks of our back porch. I know he’s doing all he can. It’s only been twelve hours since we got back from the motel, and he’s kept working on finding Lex.

  The Satan’s Serpents aren’t to be messed with. One of the most notorious fuckers in the country, they’re known for violence and bloodshed. I should be concerned, I really should, but I’m not because revenge is the only thing I’m focused on as I sip my coffee and smoke my cigarette.

  “It’s a bad habit you know,” comes the sweet voice from my left. I glance toward her, taking in her long, lithe legs—smooth and tanned. She’s wearing a pair of shorts that just about cover her ass I’m sure. Along with a floppy tee, she looks like she’s about to head to the beach. Casual, yet so damn sexy.

  Trinity’s long, pink hair hangs to the middle of her back, and I’m taken back to last night when I wrapped my fist in the silky strands. She nears me, and I get a whiff of her perfume. Fruity, but there’s a hint of spice like cinnamon.

  “You worried about me, little spy?” I ask, cocking a brow at her in question.

  A small smile dances on her plump lips, her heart-shaped face brightening as she settles in a chair while keeping her eyes on me, and I wish for a moment she’d perch that ass on my lap.
I watch her for a long while before she finally responds, “I worry about people I care for.”

  “Is that your way of telling me you want my dick inside you?” I throw back, trying to get out of this sappy, emotional crap. I’m not a romance guy, hate the bullshit that comes with it. Most times it’s fake, just lies people tell themselves to make them feel better.

  “Do you always have to be so crass?” Trinity shoots back, but the hint of a smile on her face is still present, so I couldn’t have offended her too much.

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “I do it so you don’t fall in love with me.” Trinity laughs at my response as I put the smoke between my lips and take a long pull, allowing the nicotine to fill my lungs.

  She shakes her head, looking away for a moment before turning those emeralds on me once more. “Don’t worry. I don’t have a habit of falling in love with bad guys.” Her sass makes my dick throb in my jeans. Fuck, this girl could be the end of me. And she’ll most probably enjoy it while I squirm just for her.

  “Good,” I tell her. “No strings.” Even as I say it, I’m not sure there aren’t already a few tethers between us. I recognize the twist in my gut when she pushes to her feet and turns toward her house. It’s the same feeling I get when I think about losing the life I have. When I think about how painful it was when I lost my mother and my sister.

  “I better get back before my mother comes out here to kill you,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching as she regards me with a gentle gaze that sets me on edge. She may say she won’t fall, but there’s a hint of emotion in her eyes that says otherwise.

  “She’d have to catch me first.” Another laugh, one I hope to hear again and again, tinkles from her lips. She takes the two steps down, heading home, but I stop her and ask, “Is she working tonight?”