Wraith: A Second Chance Dark Romance (Masters of Mayhem Book 1)

by Renee Rocco

A warning siren screams loud in my brain. “How trashed?”

  Jester’s expression darkens. “Enough to help him forget what your prick of a husband did to him.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Did he leave any liquor for anyone else?”

  Because to forget would require an entire bar’s worth of alcohol.

  “Not much.” Shock rivets me to the spot when Jester plants a kiss on the top of my head. He props a finger beneath my chin and lifts my head. “Just want you to know, I may be an asshole, but I’m grateful for what you did.”

  Note to self. Do not light a match around this man’s breath.

  “Thanks, but dude, how much of that alcohol did you consume alongside Wraith?”

  He drops an arm around my shoulder. “Unfortunately, not enough to steal my best friend’s girl.”

  I push away from him and give him a solid shot to the arm. “You’re ridiculous.”

  As I march up the stairs, I feel him watch me, and by the time I make it to the landing, I don’t know if I’m shaking because I’m cold or if it’s because I’m scared to death to find out what Wraith is like when he’s drunk.

  It’s a thing with me. Until I see someone’s drunk personality, I’m skittish around them when they drink. And yes, I’m aware it’s baggage from my father.

  I shiver as I peek in on Wraith and find him sprawled across the bed, passed out fully clothed. My bags are neatly lined up near the closet, but I bypass them and go for old comfy underwear and one of Wraith’s T-shirts. Not to wake him for obvious reasons, I tiptoe down the hall to the guest bathroom for a hot shower. I get as far as peeling off my wet dress when Wraith yells my name like he’s in agony.

  My heart freezes, and for a fraction of a second, my mind forgets where we are. It puts us back in Gomorrah. I dart out of the bathroom, but stop mid-stride and remember we’re safe. We’re in Mayhem. In Wraith’s house. Over a thousand miles separate us from the dungeon.

  With a shake of my head, I turn to walk back to the bathroom. Wraith’s drunk, not injured. He can wait until after my shower. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  But I hear the bed creak. Heavy, booted footfalls shuffle against the carpet. I turn to see Wraith’s massive body fill the hallway. My God, the man is incredible. His power is casual—a natural part of him, rather than something borrowed through wealth or connections. Take him out of Mayhem and lock him in a cage, and his arrogance and force flourished. Nothing had broken him, and seeing him now, I can’t stop the flood of heat that surges through me when I remember how he’d felt beneath my hands.

  But Wraith looks different, and I realize his messy mop of hair is gone. In its place is a cut that showcases his sculpted face.

  “What happened to your head?”

  “Had one of the guys buzz it.” Wraith rubs a hand over his head. “Why are you naked?”

  I meet his scowl with a blush. “I’m not naked.”

  Naked would be better. Instead, I’m wearing the world’s most boring bra in the history of brassieres. In fact, “beige” is too exciting a color for what’s supporting my B-cups. I mean, really, my undergarments are so utterly mundane, they can’t even be classified as panties. They’re the functional cotton sort that comes in a multipack usually found hanging on the back wall of one of those big-box stores.

  The sort a Mayhem woman would rather be dead than caught wearing.

  But I don’t care about luxury.

  Oh, for Christ’s sake. What a load of horse shit.

  I care. Despite what I tell myself, I’m not made of stone. I want to feel pretty, occasionally. Like now, with Wraith’s gaze on my body. Instead of being a scarred and broken bit of goods wrapped in functional undergarments, I wish, for once, I could be someone like Ava. A beautiful, perfect whirlwind who’s comfortable in the sort of sexy clothing that grabs a man’s attention.

  But I have Wraith’s attention.

  In spades, actually.

  I stand my ground and pretend I’m not dying of embarrassment under his scrutiny. The other day in his room was one thing. Other than him getting up close and personal with my vagina, Wraith didn’t see the rest of me. But he’s getting an eyeful now, and yes, his body is scarred, too. And yes, he was there when most of these marks were put on me. But he’s never seen me in the raw, and all at once. And I’m ashamed because faded slashes and burns cover me. They crisscross over my torso and thighs, haphazardly put there by the sloppy hand of a drunken failure of a father.

  I catch the inside of my cheek with my teeth and bite down hard. The pain helps to balance my mortification.

  “Why do you gotta be so pretty?” Wraith’s gruff demand shocks the hell out of me because it’s the last thing I expect him to say.

  “You’re drunk.” I take his hand so I can lead him to his room. “You need to sleep.”

  He shakes off my touch, and his upper lip curls in a sneer. “I turned down sex because of you.”

  Does he want a gold star? A standing ovation? “No one asked you to.”

  But I’m thrilled you did.

  “Only to come out here and see you naked.” He jerks his chin at Jester’s bedroom. “Did you let Jester fuck you?”

  “Again, not naked.” I back away and plant my hands on my hips, frustrated and also a pissed off. “And no, Wraith, Jester and I did not have sex. You insult me with the accusation.”

  Wraith stalks toward me, chewing up the space between us. “Most women wouldn’t find it insulting.”

  I notch my chin, adding a few new bricks to my wall. “I do.”

  “Apparently.” He inches closer. “Question is why.”

  “If you need to ask, you don’t know me.”

  His touch is a whisper over my cheek. “Yeah, I do, Jamie.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Wraith threads his fingers through my hair, fisting a handful of the wet strands. A thrill works its way from my scalp down my spine. “I know you thought about me just like I thought about you. Imagined my hands touching you.” He lowers his head, his breath fanning the sensitive curve of my ear. “Kissing you.” He walks me backward until we hit the wall. He traps me with his body. Pins me in place with his hips. My breath hitches when he kicks my legs apart and grinds against me. “Sliding inside you.”

  I can’t breathe. Can’t move. I want him so baldly. But not here, in the hallway, with him drunk and Jester downstairs.

  “Stop.”

  But I don’t want him to stop. I want Wraith’s hands on me. I need his strength. His control because I’m tired. So damn tired of being strong. I want to let it all go. To surrender to him because I know he’ll keep me safe. He’ll never hurt me.

  I’m so many contradictions that I don’t even recognize myself.

  “That’s what you want?” When his tongue glides up my throat, I hiss in a breath as a wave of heat flows in its wake. “For me to walk away and leave you standing here aching and empty?”

  Oh God, no.

  I’ve spent my life aching and empty. Lonely, aching, and empty.

  With nothing to lose and everything to gain, I melt into him and snake my arms around his waist. Wraith’s mouth crushes mine, parting my lips, his tongue whiskey sweet. His hands grip my hips, his fingers pressing into my flesh. He holds me, his erection straining in his jeans. The pulse of it sends an electric thrill through me. My body fills with a needy pressure, grasping for something out of reach. A thirst only he can quench.

  He kisses a path to my ear. Sinks his teeth into my neck hard enough to fold my knees. Pain and pleasure collide, forming a delicious coil that works its way from my core to each limb. Thank God I’m holding on to him because if I weren’t, I’d crumble to the floor. I throw my head back, a moan sliding up from my throat as he teases me with his teeth and tongue.

  When he traces his fingers up my sides, he rocks his hips against me, the friction causing a slow burn to build between my legs. He grazes his palm over the taut peak of my breast, and I whimper at the foreign sensation, needing mor
e. So much more.

  Curiosity overrides a lifetime of caution, and I inch my hand between our bodies. My heart skips a few beats as I press my palm over Wraith’s erection, fascinated and frightened at his size. His groan rumbles around me as I stroke the length of him through his jeans. Savor the throb as he pumps against my hand. He rasps incoherent promises of what he’s going to do to my body, each word chipping at my defenses like a hammer hitting glass.

  Wraith slaps a hand on the wall beside my head to steady himself. He dives for my panties with the other. I haven’t forgotten Jester is downstairs, and I try to pull his hand away, but he braces his legs and shakes his head.

  “Relax.” His lazy smile gains him a victory. I give myself over to him, putting myself in his hands. I trust him, and he knows it, the arrogant bastard. “There’s my girl. There’s my Jamie.”

  He keeps his hungry gaze fixed on mine as he glides a finger along the waistband of my underwear. My plain underwear that has no business being part of this illicit encounter. But here they are, being stretched away from my body. And oh my God, when Wraith dips below that durable elastic, I almost come undone in his arms. He knows exactly where to touch me. How to touch me. And all I can do is grip his shoulders and hold on as he slides that talented finger along my slit. Teases my clit until I’m biting my lips to keep from crying out as waves of pleasure crash into me.

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he growls against my lips.

  “It’s your fault,” I accuse.

  He slides into me, and I grind down on his hand. “Damn right it is.”

  A second finger follows, and I lift up on my tiptoes to escape the stretch. But Wraith is ruthless. He forces me flatfooted as he fills me, swallowing my moans as he rubs a spot deep inside me. Igniting a fire that burns almost too hot. The heat lifts me so high, I feel like I’m inches from the sun. Every muscle locks, and I come apart in his arms right there against the wall as he works magic using nothing more than two fingers. And when I think it’s over, he slips his hand out of my underwear and spins me around.

  “Wraith, no.”

  Shame is a bucket of ice water that extinguishes the inferno. I press my forehead against the wall and wait for the disgust I know is coming.

  Wraith gathers my hair and traces each scar etched across my back, and when he’s done, he kisses the nape of my neck. “We match.”

  I hitch in my breath on a tearless sob at his acceptance of the ugliest part of me.

  A whip marred the smooth perfection of his back.

  My father ruined mine with a leather belt.

  Turning, I wrap my arms around Wraith’s neck and press my lips to his. But where my kiss is soft, Wraith turns it feral. A demand I can’t ignore as his hands explore my body. Every peak and valley, pulling breathy moans from me as I touch all of him, groping beneath his shirt to run my palms along his skin. Unbutton his jeans to reach inside his pants to stroke his length. But he rips his mouth from mine and glances away. Desire and fear intertwine when he clamps his hand around my throat. The frustration in his eyes matches my own, even as the hunger behind it electrifies me.

  Wraith presses a finger to my breastbone. “I will fuck you, Jamie.” He moves away, and I shiver as a flood of cool air flows over me. “But not with an audience.”

  He saunters back to his room, leaving me confused and aching.

  I turn my head to see Jester standing on the stairs, a slice of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other.

  “That’s it? That’s the show?”

  Right at that moment, I wish the floorboards would open so I could crawl beneath them to hide. “How long have you been there?”

  He takes a bite of pizza. Chews. Shallows. “Long enough to get a proper hard-on.”

  “Did it occur to you to do the polite thing and walk away?”

  Jester shrugs. “Nah. House has bedrooms. Figured if you wanted privacy, you’d be in one of them.”

  I narrow my eyes on him. “So, you stood there watching us?”

  His crooked grin is arrogant but charming. “Some folks get off on it.”

  “I’m not one of them. Our make-out session was spontaneous.”

  “Look, if I see some sex happening, I’m rubbernecking. You’ve been warned.”

  I give him an imperious glare. “You need to mind your business.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, as long as you’re in Mayhem, you are my business.” Then he continues on his way to his bedroom. “You’re hot when you’re deep in it, by the way, even in those granny panties.”

  My dignity in shambles, I retreat to the guest bathroom to take that shower, and while I’m in there, I can’t help wondering what’s happening in Gomorrah. Chaos, most likely. David must be livid that his wife and favorite toy are gone. A normal person would worry I’ll spill secrets, but he’s too arrogant. He’s never regarded me as a threat on any real level. Or, if he does, he believes he’s built himself into an unstoppable and untouchable force.

  The man’s a fool.

  Proving him wrong will be my life’s mission.

  It has to be, because the only way Wraith and I will be free—together, or separately—is with David dead.

  Once I’m finished in the bathroom, I head to the kitchen and grab a bag of chips. Good thing about living with two men who aren’t concerned about watching their weight is that the kitchen is stocked with wonderfully unhealthy snacks. Rather than go to bed, I rewatch Zombieland for the billionth time because I’ve been loving the sweet luxury of kicking back and enjoying movies without having to keep one eye on the television screen and the other on the door.

  Isn’t that what life is all about? The quiet moments? The simple pleasures? Navigating through the storms to get to calmer weather? At least that’s my hope because, honestly, I don’t know how many more hurricanes I can withstand before I buckle under the winds.

  Well, this right here is my calmer weather, and I intend to enjoy the hell out of it because as much as I want to believe we’re going to take David out, nothing is guaranteed. If my life is cut short, I want to go out knowing I lived these gifted days without a single regret.

  15

  Wraith

  “Good?”

  Jamie shakes her head, testing to see if the black motocross helmet fits snug on her head. She gives me a thumbs-up.

  “Outstanding.” I secure goggles over the headgear and give the top of the helmet a playful tap. “Ready?”

  “Absolutely.” She’s already off, practically skipping toward my Honda TRX250X.

  I’ve never seen anything hotter than Jamie dressed heat to foot in O’Neal gear. It’s like her body was made to wear it. I grab her hand and help her up as she swings her leg over the quad. Christ, if we weren’t with my friends, I’d lay her out and devirginize her right here in the woods. Figure it’s as good a place as any. Peaceful. Pretty. Surrounded by nature and all that nice shit. Instead, I got Malice to my right, being his typical irritable self. Jester’s fucking around with Havoc, getting that ornery prick all worked up for no reason. And Discord’s being the typical younger brother, feeding off Jester to provoke Havoc’s temper.

  Out-fucking-standing.

  I almost feel sorry for Jamie because once we’re done riding and the drinking starts, that’s when the bullshit really begins. But she’s the one who wanted the full riding experience, so that’s what I’m giving her. Worst case scenario is that she won’t be reckless with her wishes after today. Best case is that she’ll shit the rest of the stick out of her ass and actually have a good time.

  By the look of her sitting on that quad, I’m hoping it’s the latter, because Jamie unleashed must be one hell of a thing.

  Once she’s comfortable, I climb up in front of her. She snakes her arms around my waist, and I place my hand over hers. “Got me?”

  She grabs fistfuls of my jersey. “Yes.”

  “We ride hard,” I warn.

  “Good,” she yells.

  I smile at her muffled shout and think back t
o yesterday morning when I woke up with a killer hangover after spending the day drinking at Sanctum. Jamie, in contrast, woke with a fire lit under her ass. I want to think my kiss had something to do with her sudden race to catch up with life. Yeah, no. More like she’s catching up on lost time. Whatever. Don’t care. Just want her happy. If it means taking her riding up the mountain with my friends, we go riding up the mountain with my friends.

  I offered her an ATV of her own. She insisted on riding with me. No complaints here. There are worse ways to spend the afternoon than with Jamie snuggled against my back.

  The boys finish gearing up, and I feel Jamie’s breathing quicken. Her little hands curl tighter in my jersey. The mouthpiece of her helmet bangs against me, and she mumble-yells an apology. I suspect she’s going to bump me black and blue by the time the day’s done, and it’s all good.

  Again, just want this woman happy after she spent a lifetime absolutely miserable.

  “Ready, assholes?” Malice shouts.

  “As ready as your mother was last night, you prick,” Jester calls back.

  Malice flips off Jester, and everyone starts their quads. Goddamn, Jamie has strong legs, and that sends my mind crashing into the gutter. She tightens her thighs around my hips, and my dick jumps to attention. But I have no time to linger on my uncomfortable erection situation because in the next instant I’m reminding Jamie to hold on and we’re off. Ripping up dirt. Whipping around trees. Racing over foliage. Speeding through streams. Climbing hills. Tearing it all up as we head higher, deeper into the forest that separates Mayhem from Falls Creek.

  Jamie bangs around behind me, but she’s holding on, the mouthpiece scraping across my spine as she turns her head right and left. Now I get why she didn’t want her own ATV. She wanted to sit back and enjoy the ride. Just look her fill and relax. I figure this is her time to let someone else take control. No worries. I got her. She can sit behind me and do her thing. I mean, hell, she got me out of a literal dungeon. Least I can do is give her a proper tour of her own mountain.

  And it is her mountain.