Blade

by Aiden Bates

“Sorry,” he grumbled, then shucked off his leather jacket and his heavy boots, leaving him in his socks, jeans, and a tight white t-shirt.

  “Just spooked me,” I said. Jazz played low on the stereo. Anxiety suddenly shot through me. Blade had told me I could use his stereo, but what if the music annoyed him now, when he was clearly in a bad mood?

  “Everything okay?” I asked carefully, not removing my hands from the steaks I was basting in marinade.

  Blade sighed. “Long day.”

  I exhaled, releasing the anxiety. He wouldn’t lash out at me just because he was in a mood—sometimes I just needed to remind myself of that. “Something happen at church?”

  Blade hummed. He sidled up behind me in the kitchen and slid his hands under the shirt I was wearing—an oversized Harley Davidson shirt I stole from his closet. Beneath it I was only wearing boxer-briefs and a pair of thick socks; the hardwood got cold at night. Blade didn’t answer, just ran his hands up and down my chest and kissed my neck. Each stroke of his hands relaxed me more.

  “I’ve got meat hands,” I said. “Kiss me.”

  I turned my head and he did as I asked, kissing me over my shoulder.

  “Church? Was it okay?” I asked again after the kiss.

  “I’m gonna get in the shower real quick,” he said. “Then I’ll be your sous chef.” As he pulled away, he squeezed my ass playfully.

  “Go fast,” I said. “I need your knife skills.”

  Blade ambled slow and tired up the stairs towards his—our?—bedroom. The old pipes hissed and rattled as the shower started.

  He was reluctant to talk about the intricacies of club business with me. If I asked about meetings, or the ongoing investigation into the drugs, he always gave me barely a snippet and then changed the subject. He offered just enough to be able to claim he wasn’t completely shutting me out, and I hated it. I hated feeling isolated and kept in the dark—but how could I press for more information when I still hadn’t told him the truth about who I was?

  I turned on the stove and heated up a pan. What was he hiding from me? The oil spit and popped as it heated. It landed on my arm, leaving a small red burn.

  I grimaced. As if the universe had immediately dinged me for even questioning it. What right did I have to want every detail of his life when I still hadn’t been able to tell Blade the full truth?

  I wanted to. I did. But every time I tried to say it, the words died in my throat. I wasn’t ready to give up the fantasy. I was happy for the first time since Mom died, and I wanted it to last a little while longer. This week had been the most peaceful week of my life. I’d never woken up next to someone every morning. I’d never gotten a good morning kiss to start the day and slow, passionate sex to end it.

  I knew Blade cared for me. It came through in every touch and gesture. And once he knew who I was, what I’d been hiding, that could change. I was terrified of what that change may be. We were already so deep into whatever this was, that I didn’t even know how to bring it up anymore. If I’d said something when I’d first gotten here, or before we’d slept together, that would be one thing, but now…

  I seared the steaks then slid the pan into the oven to cook low and slow, then hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter. Blade padded back downstairs, his hair wet and hanging loose around his face. His white tank top was damp and transparent where it clung to his chest like he’d tugged it on hastily after haphazardly drying off. His thin sweatpants suggested the shape of his big cock when he moved.

  I knocked my heels against the cabinetry. “Steaks are in.”

  “Thanks.”

  From the fridge he pulled out peppers and onions and broccoli and dropped them onto the counter next to the oven. He pulled a chef’s knife from the knife block and flipped it once, the blade spinning, gleaming in the light before he caught it by the handle, making the tendons in his forearms stand out. His gaze was directed towards the vegetables but he didn’t seem to see them. His mind was elsewhere. The knife trick was unconscious.

  He diced the vegetables with a distracted ease. He held a pepper in his wide, strong hands, claw-like, as the knife’s edge rhythmically dismembered it.

  I was starting to find that there was something alluring about a man doing something highly skilled—dangerous, but enticing.

  I slid off the counter and stood behind him. He was taller than me, just the right height for me to kiss his nape, then give a playful little bite there.

  “Something on your mind?” Blade’s low voice was a vibration against my lips.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  Blade turned around and set the knife aside. He tugged me close by my hips so we were pressed together. To my delight, he wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath those sweatpants. He kissed me and licked into my mouth hungrily.

  “Let me,” I said against his lips.

  “Hm?”

  I slid to my knees.

  “Oh,” Blade said, and wound one hand into my hair. He didn’t pull, just held my hair tight between his fingers, creating a pleasing throb of dull pressure. I slid my hands up the backs of his legs and grabbed his ass. The hard muscle gave under my grip and Blade groaned. I pressed my face into his crotch greedily and inhaled the smell of soap and laundry detergent and the unique musk of his skin and sweat. Mouthing at his cock through the fabric, I left behind a dark stain of saliva. His cock started to harden under my ministrations. Blade’s serious presidential side fell away, revealing something sweet and needy behind it. Because of me. I could do that to him. An addictive sensation.

  I gripped his hard cock through his sweatpants. The shape through the gray fabric made my mouth wet with want.

  “Come on, Logan,” Blade said through clenched teeth.

  I glanced up at him. Blade let go of my hair and gripped the edge of the counter behind him.

  Then I pulled his sweatpants down just enough to reach his cock.

  He was beautiful. His cock hung huge and heavy, precum already forming at the tip. I gripped it hard by the base and Blade groaned as he tossed his head back. His cock was velvety, hard; the vein running across it pulsed so strongly it seemed almost painful. I cradled his balls in my other hand, relishing the weight of them, and Blade cursed.

  “Easy, Byron,” I said gently.

  “God,” Blade said. “Say it again.”

  “Byron,” I whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

  He shuddered. “Blow me. Take me as far as you can.”

  “Yeah?” I pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock.

  “Please, Logan.”

  My cock jerked and my hips thrust forward of their own accord. I sucked the tip of his cock into my mouth and Blade sighed long and slow. His cock released another salty burst of precum on my tongue. I hummed and shoved my hand into my shorts to touch myself.

  I pushed his cock to the side of my mouth and the head pouched out my cheek.

  Blade stared wide-eyed. His hand fluttered to my face and traced the shape of his cock. He cursed again, but it sounded reverent.

  I pulled off his cock and stroked it a few times until it was wet with my saliva. Heat coiled inside me as I jerked myself off at the same pace. I sucked him back down hungrily.

  “Oh, fuck, yes.” His hand coiled back into my hair.

  Tears prickled at my eyes as his cock overcame my senses: the heat, the sweat-salt taste, the weight against my tongue that seemed to fill my body like water pouring into a vessel. His cock hit the back of my throat and I gagged, just a little, and a tear slid down my cheek. Blade didn’t push or pull at my head; his hand in my hair was simply reassuring, closeness, another way my reality had shrunk to just his body and mine. I breathed steadily through my nose and held him in my mouth for a moment, then I sucked hard, once.

  Blade gasped and tightened his hand in my hair. I sucked his cock earnestly, fast and focused.

  He said my name over and over.

  Soon he was weak-kneed and shaking. “I’m gonna come.” He tugged at my scalp, tryin
g to pull me off. I met his eyes and kept blowing him.

  Blade groaned, understanding.

  I was close, too, jerking myself fast and hard, the sensation heightened by the pain in my knees and my overwhelmed senses.

  Blade cried out and then his hips jerked forward, pushing further into my mouth as he came. I swallowed and swallowed and still there was more. I closed my eyes, taking it. I released my hand from his cock and slid it soothingly over his abs, through the sweat there. I’d done that. I’d made him groan and sweat and come.

  Pride bloomed in my chest.

  Finally, shaking through his aftershocks, Blade helped me to my feet. My legs tingled as blood flow returned. Blade held my weight up easily. “Go ahead and come, baby,” he purred, then kissed me dirty and possessive. I rutted against his hip like a teenager, gasping, and came in my shorts so hard my knees nearly gave out.

  But there was no chance of collapsing with Blade’s arms around me, and he kissed me through my orgasm.

  “Byron?”

  “Hm?”

  “Steaks are probably done.”

  Blade chuckled and kissed me again.

  He stir-fried the vegetables while I changed my shorts, and then we ate side-by-side on the couch, plates in our laps and feet propped on the coffee table. Blade was calmer, quieter, but still only half-present. He sat close, but didn’t speak. Sex had taken the edge off, but still his attention was elsewhere. It was easier for me to try to connect with him physically—I was sure he wanted me that way. But prying into what was bothering him… If he wasn’t telling me, it was probably related to the club, and he’d just reject me, or close off further. But I couldn’t just sit and pretend I didn’t notice.

  As I was washing our dishes in the sink, Blade packed up the leftovers.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. I focused on scraping the marinade remnants out of the bottom of the pan. “You still seem a little on edge. What happened at church?”

  For a long moment, only the sound of the water running over the pan echoed between us.

  “It’s the drugs in the territory,” Blade said finally. “Raven says it’s shit laced with bath salts.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah. Heavy duty. People are overdosing. Young people. We think it’s being brought in from San Francisco by members of the Viper’s Nest.”

  My stomach dropped to the floor. Not only was the Viper’s Nest in Elkin Lake—they were the source of the drugs that had been plaguing Hell’s Ankhor. If Blade found out I was connected to the Nest now…

  Every bad thing that had happened in Elkin Lake—the drugs, the Vipers, the attack on Heath—it could all be connected to me, even though I hadn’t been an active part in carrying it out. If Blade out my true identity, how could he ever forgive me for withholding it for so long? God, I was so stupid. Why did I ever think I could have something good, and uncomplicated?

  “We’re riding out tonight to one of the clubs,” Blade said. “Siren’s got a good plan set up to start hunting Vipers. I’ll feel better once I have some more information. It’s the not knowing that kills me, you know? Being in the dark about shit going down in my own territory.”

  “Hunting?”

  “We’re going to grab a dealer.” Blade lowered his voice. “See if he’s willing to tell us what he knows.”

  “I—are you sure that’s a good idea?” I turned around and wrung a dish towel in my hands.

  “Yes,” Blade said. “I am.”

  “It seems dangerous. Why wouldn’t you get the cops involved? Drugs are in their wheelhouse, right?” I was desperate now. The Vipers weren’t like the Hell’s Ankhor guys. Even if Blade and his crew got information from a dealer, the Vipers’ retribution would be fast and brutal. And they might tell him about me.

  “Dangerous?”

  “It’s just—people could get hurt again.”

  “People are getting hurt! People are fucking dying because of the shit the Vipers are bringing into my town!” He slammed his fist onto the counter. “I’m not going to sit around with my thumb up my ass while they’re poisoning people. You should know the police don’t do shit when it matters. Did they ever help you when you needed it?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s not fair of you to suggest I can’t handle my own job.”

  I turned back to the dishes. His loud voice had sent a shiver of fear through me.

  “If you can’t handle the reality of what club business entails,” Blade said, “we need to do some reconsidering.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” I said.

  It didn’t even sound convincing to my own ears. It was true—but there was more to it than that. I didn’t want the Vipers to get close to him. I didn’t want them to ruin this.

  Blade went upstairs to get dressed.

  I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Blade was fully capable of taking care of himself, especially with his enforcers behind him. It wouldn’t take much to have the dealer singing like a bird. I should’ve known this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If I wasn’t going to give my father the information he needed to make a move into Hell’s Ankhor territory, he’d find another way to do it. And if the dealer they found knew anything about me, I was in deep shit.

  The walls were closing in.

  Blade came back downstairs in his leather jacket and jeans. As he tied his dark hair back, his tank top rode up showing a thin strip of tan skin above his belt. Fuck. He’d never forgive me if he knew. My window of time for telling Blade the truth had suddenly and surprisingly slammed shut. I couldn’t come clean now. I was in too deep with Blade, and he was too engaged in this standoff with the Vipers. He could never know who I was, or where I really came from—no matter what. And that meant I had to wait at home with the knowledge of the Vipers’ cruelty and violence. I couldn’t warn Blade of what he might be walking into.

  If something happened to Blade, it’d be my fault.

  He finished lacing up his boots. “I don’t know how long this will take. Don’t wait up.”

  The door slammed shut, and Blade left only silence in his wake.

  17

  Blade

  “She’s in.” Coop skittered away from the corner of the building to the back door, where the rest of us were waiting. Gunnar, Tex, Priest, and I were lingering near the dumpsters, carefully hidden from the line of scantily clad youths waiting to get into Club Rage. “Doorman waved her right past.”

  “Good,” I said. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

  Fidgety with the waiting, I pulled out my pocket knife and opened and flipped it from hand to hand for something to do. This was a good plan. There was no reason to be concerned; I shouldn’t have told Logan anything about it. He’d gotten so tense and cagey. This wasn’t a big, dangerous operation, not by a long shot. The Logan back at my house tonight was so different from the Logan I’d seen in Ankhor Works the day Heath had been hurt. Logan had leaped into action that day with no hesitation, and I’d seen a man who could integrate easily into the club. Who could be an asset. But the way he’d reacted to this plan made me wonder if Gunnar was right. Had I put too much faith in an outsider?

  Or was it somehow related to whatever he was hiding?

  I was still willing to be patient with Logan. I’d never pictured myself in a relationship, not while I had the presidency to worry about.

  But with Logan, that was changing.

  Ankh had given me the benefit of the doubt all those years ago, and I still wanted Logan by my side, as a club member, not an outsider. But what I wanted didn’t dispel the seeds of doubt.

  “Why the long face, boss?” Gunnar sidled up next to me and leaned against the dark brick wall. He checked his own gear methodically, testing the sharp edges of his two knives with the pad of his thumb. “You should be excited. Finally get to beat some Viper ass.”

  “Probably not,” Tex said. “He’ll
probably squeal as soon as he sees us.”

  Priest nodded. “That would be a wise choice on his part.”

  “We’re here to get information,” I said sharply. “How we get it doesn’t matter.”

  “Why are you so pissy?” Gunnar said. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Gunnar. I’m not in the mood.”

  Gunnar grabbed me by my sleeve and pulled me away from the club’s back door, putting a dumpster between us and the rest of the enforcers. “So that is it, though? Problems with Logan?”

  “I don’t see how it’s any of your fucking business,” I said.

  “It’s my business—” Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest and leaned closer “—because I am your sergeant-at-arms, and I’m responsible for the safety of this little last-minute surprise party. If your head isn’t in the game, you’re an additional risk factor. I’m not going to let people get hurt because you’re distracted.”

  “No one’s going to get hurt, Gunnar.”

  “Yeah? I thought that too until a Viper gutted Heath all casual.” Gunnar shook his head in disbelief. “Pull yourself together, man. A piece of ass is not worth this amount of trouble.”

  Rage ripped through me fast and hot like I’d been set ablaze. I gripped the front of Gunnar’s jacket then slammed him roughly against the brick. “Don’t fucking talk about him like that.”

  Gunnar’s mouth dropped open. He stared at me wide-eyed. “Fuck, man. You’re in love with him!”

  I released him and stepped back. “Don’t be a fucking idiot,” I snapped. “I’m not.”

  “Oh man, I knew that kid was going to be trouble, but I didn’t know it’d be this bad,” Gunnar said. He scrubbed a hand across his short blond hair. “This is something else.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know you, Blade,” Gunnar said. “I’ve never seen you react like that.”

  “Now whose head isn’t in the game?”

  “Don’t fucking deflect.”

  I shoved past Gunnar and went back to the rest of the members. Priest knocked his shoulder against mine but said nothing.