Low Sided

by A. J. Downey

  “Boy, did that dude fuck that one up!” I said.

  Tic laughed slightly, an edge of hysteria to it and nodded a little too fast. “Yeah! Yeah, he did!”

  “Okay, I’m going to take this compress off and I’m going to go digging. I know it’s gonna hurt and I’m sorry!” I said, and I pulled the packing away.

  Tic bit down on a yelp.

  The wound wasn’t too deep, he was right. Clean, about two inches, maybe three inches long; the meth head must have twisted or something at the last second. Still, it was deep enough, past the fat layer. I had stitched worse; the problem was finding where all the fucking bleeding was coming from!

  I probed the wound with a fingertip and Tic screamed and hollered. I reassured him the best I could.

  “Okay, okay! It’s okay, you scream, you curse, you cry and call me all sorts of names. I know it hurts and I won’t take it personal. You’re doing good! Ah! Don’t move!” I shouted when he moved his legs, his heels skidding along the tabletop. He gripped the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip and blood spurted. I saw it. I spotted it, but I didn’t have anyone in here to hand me the fucking clamp out of the kit.

  “Mace!” I bellowed, and he appeared in the doorway. “Clamp!” I cried, and he handed me a pair of locking forceps. “Yes!” I took them but there was too much blood again. I shoved the packing back against the wound.

  “Damnit!” I muttered fiercely and shook my head. “Okay, take the packing, that’s it, keep the pressure on, okay?”

  I stilled and made eye contact with Mace. His darker gaze met my lighter one and something passed between us, as though we borrowed strength and a calmness from one another.

  “When I say, move the packing so I can get in there and try and find this thing and clamp it.”

  “I got you,” he said with a nod.

  I turned my attention back to Tic’s hip and said, “Okay.”

  He moved the packing. I probed and there was a spurt. The offending vein didn’t want to hold still but after a moment, some grunting out of Tic, and listening to his white-knuckled grip squeak against the edge of the sealed wood of the blood-smeared table, the forceps clicked in my hand and I let out the breath I had been holding.

  “I got it!”

  Mace’s breath left him in a whoosh and I stepped between Tic and the door, making sure to shield the mess of his hip and the cage around his cock with my body as someone, maybe Fen, said behind me, “Dahlia’s here.”

  “Go,” I told Mace, and he left my side. I made eye contact with Tic who panted and nodded, gratitude flashing across his face.

  “You’re going to be alright,” I said. “Just a little while longer.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and I could tell it was for a lot more than just stopping his bleeding.

  I got him unlocked and out of his cage with the key Mace provided after speaking with Dahlia and secreted it away.

  “Thanks for that, too,” Tic said without making eye contact.

  “It’s no problem,” I said. “Any of it.” The first fine trembling started in my hands. I wouldn’t crash. This wasn’t over yet.

  “You did good,” Eulogy praised as he put the final stitch into Tic’s hip. He’d shot him up with something for the pain and it was a heavy enough dose, Tic was out. I was grateful for that. Tic had been a trouper and through enough pain.

  “Thanks,” I muttered softly.

  “No, I mean it. You did real good, Raven.”

  I handed him some triple anti-biotic ointment to smear along the fresh line of stitches and he set the needle and pair of forceps he was using aside in the metal tray that’d appeared, and sighed.

  “You doing alright?” he asked, eying me.

  I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll crash later, but right now, I’m fine.”

  He nodded and something like pride crossed his face, or like he was impressed. I bowed my head and started cleaning up.

  “Leave it,” he said. “You’ve done way more than enough. I can get it.” He sounded genuinely grateful, and I was honestly exhausted and on the ragged edge of my adrenaline petering out, so I graciously stripped my gloves and bowed out.

  “Thanks,” I said and discarded the gloves in the black garbage bag that’d somehow appeared in the midst of all of this.

  His breath hitched on a scoffing laugh. “Heh! Thank you, darlin’. You definitely kept him from bleeding out.”

  I nodded.

  “Let me know if there’s anything else I need to do.”

  He looked back at Tic and shook his head. “Nothing left now but to get him full of fluids and let him recover naturally. I got all that, though.”

  I’d started an IV after I’d gotten him stabilized but he would be in need of a new bag in a few. I let Eulogy handle it.

  Out in the hall, I took a deep, cleansing breath that didn’t hold the sour note of fear and the copper tang of blood.

  “Hey.” I looked across the hall in the direction of Mav’s office where he leaned in the doorway. “Before you go down that way,” he said, nodding in the direction of the barroom, “come talk to me in here a minute if you don’t mind.”

  I slipped into the office behind him, and he went around the desk, dropping into the seat behind it and gesturing. I took the seat across from the cluttered desktop and felt like I’d gone from the conquering hero to being called into the principal’s office in the blink of an eye.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” he said as the sweat still cooled on my clammy hands from being trapped in the latex gloves for as long as they were.

  “I could,” I agreed. He reached into the file cabinet drawer, the loud clang of the old, metal, 70s desk making me jump.

  “Whoa there, relax. You’re cool,” he said, and I nodded. I was back to being jumpy. I think it was part of the impending crash and burn.

  He poured a measure of vodka into two glasses and nudged one in my direction. I leaned forward and took it, downed the contents, and held out the glass for a little more. He raised an eyebrow and obliged me, his smile slow and easy.

  “Can I get personal?” he asked.

  I nodded slowly, not sure what he was going to ask but guessing it had a lot to do with Mace.

  “This thing between you and Mace, this blowup or whatever—”

  “It’s not a blowup,” I said defensively.

  His smile grew. “Apologies,” he said and cocked his head. “I’m gonna be straight with you. The way you came through that door and the look on your face when you saw him, you thought it was him didn’t you?”

  I stared at him impassively, not really wanting to give anything up, but yeah, I had and Fenris – he was so on my shitlist for it, too.

  “Might I suggest,” Mav said carefully, “that you aren’t as mad as you think you are, and that maybe you’re only as mad about whatever it is as you want to be?”

  I thought about what he was saying for a second and chewed my bottom lip and finally nodded. He was right. I knew that. Loving Mace was easy. Being loved by Mace, that was scary. I had a lot of trust issues, not just from the whole thing with Max, but from before that. The only thing I feared more than death was being some sort of a failure, or disappointment to the ones who loved me. It made for some interesting struggles sometimes. It was something I was thinking about – especially the last few days.

  “I think you might be on to something there,” I said softly, and Mav nodded slowly, his deep blue gaze level with mine and unwavering.

  “You want I should bring Mace in here so you two can talk?” he asked gently, and I nodded carefully. I did want that. I wanted that very much. What I didn’t want was to fall apart in front of Maverick, who I didn’t know.

  It struck me then, that despite how Mace went behind my back, contacted Angelica, went to my old house, I still managed to trust him, and deeply at that. With the important things, at least. With my heart, and my emotions.r />
  Mav heaved himself to his feet and stopped next to me. I looked up at him and he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “That man loves you more than life itself. More than freedom, and, I reckon, in some ways as much if not more than this club.” He reached into his pocket and held something in his hand. He rubbed his lips together and searched my face. Making some sort of decision, he took my hand from the arm of the chair and upended it, spilling something on a length of chain into it.

  He curled my fingers around it, my gaze never leaving his and said to me, “Trust us and we trust you. Cross us, and… well… I think it goes without saying. Twice now, you’ve proven to be one of us and if you’re amenable to it, it’s no greater sense of family, safety, or purpose you could hope to find.”

  He bent at the waist and kissed the top of my head. He said, “Thank you, Raven, for saving and patching up my boys. We’ll never be even, but maybe this gesture, this token of appreciation can give you some kind of idea how grateful we really are.”

  I looked at his retreating back as he went for the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and turned to look back at me.

  “You have Mace to thank for what you’ve got in your hand there, and the keys to the proverbial kingdom. I hope you realize that.”

  And with that, he went out, closing the door behind him.

  I dropped my eyes to my hand and uncurled my fingers. It took no time at all to recognize the cross in my hand. I had stared at it long enough while Max had been raping me. Had had the dangling, crucified figure and its gold filigree haunt my dreams for countless nights.

  I looked up sharply, just as Mace’s familiar and comforting figure filled the door. His expression at once wounded and guarded.

  “Close the door,” I said a bit sharply, and he stepped in and did.

  I stood as he turned back around to me and I held out the crucifix as though a venomous spider were perched in my palm.

  “Did you really?” I asked. “Did you kill him… for me?” I asked.

  He searched my face and nodded once, carefully. I dropped the metal as though it burned me and flew into Mace’s arms.

  He didn’t hesitate, his arms going around me tight as he held me close, and I crashed. I crashed into him and from the adrenaline and under the sheer, monumental weight of the absolute crushing relief that fell from the sky as quickly and as hard as that foul gold necklace had fallen to the floor.

  27

  Mace…

  “Shhh, I’ve got you,” I soothed as she trembled, clinging to me tightly. She didn’t cry loudly, instead, her body shook with silent sobs that I couldn’t see. Not with her face buried in my shoulder like it was. I put my lips to the curve where her long, slender, beautiful neck sloped in that perfect sweep to the rounded cap of her shoulder, and I breathed her in deep – that rich, organic, herbal scent – green, alive, and underneath just purely her. God, did I miss the silk of her skin, her smell, just everything about having her in my arms.

  “I’m so sorry,” she sniffled, and I shook my head.

  “No, you were right. I’m the one that should be sorry,” I told her, and it was true.

  I shouldn’t have gone behind her back and ham-handed the situation. Even if my heart was in the right place where she was concerned, I’d violated her right to privacy and it’d been stupid. It’d almost cost me everything.

  “No, about being a stupid hot mess,” she said, and I chuckled and held her a little tighter.

  “I love you,” I murmured and marveled at her ridiculousness. She was anything but. She was more human than any other human I’d encountered, and it was one more of the things I loved about her.

  “Let me take you home,” I whispered into her hair and she nodded against my shoulder. We stood there for I don’t know how long, and I just simply held her. No rush, she needed it and I needed her. It was such a perfect moment, a sweet reunion, I didn’t want it to end right away either.

  Eventually, she reluctantly pulled away, sweeping her middle fingers under her eyes to wipe away the last vestiges of her tears.

  “You good?” I asked gently, and she nodded.

  “Better,” she said with a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  I nodded and reached out. She put her hand in mine and I gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “I need to take a quick leak,” I told her, and she nodded. I opened the door to Mav’s office, and we stepped out into the hall, both of us pausing outside the chapel door. The door was opened narrowly, and we glanced in.

  Dahlia was sitting at the head of the table, Tic’s curly blond head of hair beneath her palm which was gently stroking his forehead and smoothing over his hair as she murmured low to him. Her voice was too low for us to hear but clearly soothing, her touch loving and light; and Tic? Tic looked up at her with this level of adoration I didn’t think he was capable of.

  I looked at Raven and was surprised to find a raw, naked want in her expression as she looked at them. I looked back, my mind working to decipher the meaning of that look on my girl’s face, saddened to realize what it could mean… that Raven didn’t feel that bond from me. That she didn’t feel that she was loved like that, and I wondered how much of that was what’d I’d done, going behind her back the way I did.

  If only I could make her realize that I loved her more than what she was looking at. I put an arm around her waist, a hand on her hip, and drew myself closer to her, leaning over slightly and pressing a kiss to her temple. She startled and looked to me, and I slipped off to deal with the urgent need from my bladder.

  When I stepped out, she was right where I left her, staring at the floor with a light blush on her cheeks. I looked back to Dahlia and Tic and the door was firmly shut.

  Ah…

  “C’mon, I’ll take you home,” I murmured, and she slid her hand in mine and nodded. We went out through the front, past the rest of the guys so I could tell Mav what was up. He nodded, told me to ride, and made sure we’d lock up like a worried dad or some shit. I nodded. There would be church over this, but it wouldn’t be until the rest of the boys could get in here, so I had some hours yet.

  I would take Raven home, love her, and we would sleep for a time. I think she needed it. She still trembled finely under my hands as I led her out the door in front of me, my hands on her hips.

  She went out ahead of me into a blast of frigid air and I wanted to pull her back against me, wrap her in my jacket and cut against my chest and warm her with my body heat. As impractical as it was, it was my first inclination, but I resisted the urge in favor of just getting her home to show her just how much I loved and adored her.

  The trip back to her apartment was blessedly short on the bike, but definitely enough to chill my woman behind me. Her teeth chattering, her slim body shuddering as she unlocked the door at the street level for us. I trailed her up the steps after making sure that the street-level door was secure behind us before we went.

  She opened her apartment door with an audible sigh of relief. I shut it and locked the line of bolts behind us with an equal sense of decompression.

  Raven turned to me and I felt my shoulders drop at the exhaustion on her face.

  “Come here,” I murmured, and she did, stepping over to me and burying herself against my chest. I held her tight for several long moments again, waiting for her to soak in her fill and when she had, she sighed out and relaxed beneath my touch. It was as though we both let go of our last vestiges of apprehension with each other, with the situation, with everything. It was nice. It was really nice.

  “My turn for the bathroom,” she murmured, and I chuckled as she pushed back from me and I let her go.

  “You go on,” I nodded, and I trailed her into her bedroom. She gave me a backward glance as she shut the door to her tiny bathroom, as though she didn’t quite expect me to be there when she got out.

  Like I would go anywhere else.

  I slipped out of my jacket and cut and set it aside, then pulled my layered tee and thermal off in
one piece over my head.

  By the time she was washing her hands, I was toeing off my boots. By the time the bathroom door opened, I was working my belt and the front of my jeans open. She paused and looked me over and I stripped for her hungry yet reserved gaze. She was tired, maybe even exhausted. The sun would be up in a few more hours, and she needed rest. To rest, she needed to relax.

  “Come here,” I said and crooked a finger, my cock twitching, starting to rise as she drifted over her bedroom floor like some sort of ethereal sprite or Fae-like being.

  I kissed her, settling my hands on her hips, and smoothing my hands over the natural fibers of her clothing.

  I broke the kiss to whisper against her lips, “I’m going to take all of this off of you a piece at a time, lay you down, and treat you,” I promised, and she made a small noise of want in her throat.

  Good, that was good, she had no idea what she was in store for.

  I kissed her, gently divesting her of her clothing a piece at a time, letting it fall to her floor. When she was nude, I laid her down on her bed, on her stomach and carefully straddled the backs of her thighs. She was a sight, her back strong and the lines of her lean muscles and dancer’s body so very pleasing to the eye.

  I could weep at the sight of her, trailing fingertips lightly over her back in sweeping patterns, deepening the touch into a massage that made her groan in pleasure, teasing the knots from around her spine and out from beneath her shoulder blades firmly but gently, wishing I had some lotion or oil to make my hands glide better.

  I asked her, “Got any lotion or…?”

  “Lotions in the basket on the milk crate over there,” she said, voice heavy and hazy with the effects of my love and attention.

  I went and got the bottle and returned, liberally applying some to my hands, sweeping them over her upper back and shoulders, working my way through muscling the tension out of her, feeling her turn liquid with relief beneath me.

  I worked her quietly, listening to her soft little moans of pleasure and sweet surrender under my attentions and it was a hell of an aphrodisiac, let me tell you.