CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Goddamn it, there’s a candle burnin’ in the bathroom. If that doesn’t mean we live together I don’t know what does, Icy.” – Rider

 

 

 

      The season was drawing ever closer to Thanksgiving, the days were relatively sedate, some bipolar crap was happening with the weather because of instead of the snow she wanted, Zara was wearing a pair of khaki shorts with a simple tank top, it was all she could stand to wear with the weather in the high eighties.

     Pretty-Boy had dropped her off at the house after work that night while Rider was busy working on a customer’s bike, she was tired, hot and hungry and wanted the aircon on full blast. She’d been dreaming of that cold air all day stuck behind a desk sifting through unpaid bills and invoices. “Thanks, Mace.” she’d told him, waving him goodbye at the door, he waited until she was stepping through before he pulled off away from the curb. He’d going to look at cars with her tomorrow if Rider couldn’t, she really wanted her own vehicle again and since her renewed license had come through she was itching to get behind the wheel. She’d seen the one she wanted. Who could resist a yellow car? Those bikers could shut up with their teasing, they obviously didn’t know style.

      After a shower, tying her hair into a high ponytail up off her nape, and wearing another pair of shorts, pink this time, she went about fixing dinner.

      Zara had never been much of a cook, it had always been her mom’s domain and then she had been on first-name terms with the cafeteria staff within the college campus so it was a surprise to discover she liked looking through recipes online. Rider had an old Samsung tablet she’d found in an office drawer, using it now, propped on the counter against a jar of jalapenos, she pulled the fixings for tagliatelle with bacon and chorizo from out of the fridge.

      Not suitable for the hot as hell weather, but as any woman knew sometimes only pasta would do. She was a slave to the carb monster and didn’t mind a bit answering its craving call. And to pacify Rider’s meat fanatic-self she’d put together some beef patties, left them chilling in the fridge for him to grill later.

      A while later she heard the familiar pipes of his bike roar up the street and pull into the small port out front. Her heart as always sped up like a hurricane. She was smiling in anticipation of that first fix of him, she only wished she looked better. It was still so hot and she was sweaty at her temple, nothing she could do now about that, or her makeup-free face.

      Not as though she was trying to play his old lady.

      Not like they lived together or anything.

      Officially, anyway. Even if he spent every night with her.

      Everything she’d said to him that night he’d offered her the house about wanting her own space and independence ... yep, seemed to have floated off in the wind.

      Not that she didn’t love being with Rider and she found she could be independent as she liked with him right there naked in her bed.

      Or naked on the couch.

      Naked in the shower.

      She smiled to herself. She liked him around. Period. And also naked.

      When he stepped through the door, shoulders wide as the door frame, in his custom Renegade Souls leather jacket and his hair escaping from the bun, Sia was playing quietly on the radio perched on the top of the fridge, she cast a look over her shoulder, ready to smile at him. Only his tense face had her pausing.

      “I didn’t expect you so soon, did you finish up on the bike? Jed said you were waiting on a part for it.”

     “Yep.” Across the floor, he tossed his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and dropped a kiss to Zara’s forehead before grabbing a beer from the fridge, cracking it open he’d drank half in a long gulp, his throat working momentarily distracted Zara. Long-muscled neck and his guns on show, it was a wonder she remembered to take an inhaled breath.

      “I have burgers ready to go with pasta if you’re hungry.”

     “Sure,” he answered, leaving his beer bottle on the counter he washed his hands, Zara’s brows folded down. On any given day, Rider wasn’t much of a talker, didn’t discuss his feelings or thoughts, didn't bullshit a conversation just to fill in the gap of silence but this was different.

     “Has something happened, Rider?” Hades came to mind immediately, her pulse sped up. Rider continued to run the soap through his fingers, globs of oily suds dropped into the sink. He didn’t reply. “Rider? What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing, Zara, drop it.”

     Her pale eyes narrowed. That told her it was something. She fidgeted with the dish towel she was holding ready to hand it to him. “Drop what? I don’t even know what’s up.”

     “Leave it alone.”

     “Rider...please tell me if something bad is happening.”

     “Zara…” his warning clear. It dripped cold as ice. Her breathing increased because now she really did think something bad was happening with Hades and he just wasn’t sharing with her.

     “Excuse the fuck out of me for wanting to know what’s wrong with you. You look like you’ve been chewing on wasps all day.  Forget I asked.  None of my business what has your panties in a twist.” and with that, she gave him her back, she needed food, he could be in his pissy mood the rest of the night for all she cared. Her hand pressed shakily to her belly giving away her true feelings.

      She heard his sigh clear across the kitchen.

      “I've had a lousy long day, I want a goddamn beer and a fuckin' burger, not an inquisition but I’d like a shower first so check the attitude, Icy, before I check it for you.” He threw the towel into the sink, those blue eyes of his she loved to stare into was devoid of any humor.

      “You did not just threaten me!” Eyes round as flying saucers glared at Rider.

     “Yeah, baby. I did.“ He was already tearing the shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the same chair with his jacket.  His snapping shrewd blueness glancing her way before sliding away.

Who said that it was only women who were emotional? Because she recognized Rider’s easy-going temperament now she knew it was something he wasn’t letting her in on. She could only think the worse, her belly churning.

      Do not ogle. Do not ogle. Zara ogled just a little bit, skimming her gaze down the long span of his tanned chest, his waist tapered in at the sides with deep V-grooves.

      As good, as sexy, as he looked it didn’t excuse his shitty behavior.

      “Look in the mirror, baby,” she stressed the endearment mockingly.  “That’s the only attitude you’ll find here. Now if you’ll stop getting naked and get out of the kitchen I can make dinner finally. I’m hungry even if you’re not.”

     “Zara.” she heard his exhalation again but ignored the desire to look over at him, instead she busied herself getting out too many pans she didn’t need. The poor salt shaker, it did nothing to deserve the death grip as she reached into the cabinet wrenching out spices.

     Stupid bad biker man had her in an annoyed state now and she didn’t even know why!

      “Zara … baby...” along with the hoarse sound of her name she felt his hands span her hips, pulling her back into him, she resisted sinking into his body, though that was difficult, she loved being cradled by Rider.

     “Don’t you have a shower to get to.” she informed snappily.

      Rider rested his chin on top of her head, reaching around he took the salt and pepper pots out of her hands, just as well, they were being strangled.

      “I’ve had a shitty day, baby. And I’m an asshole. Tell me how many fuckin’ orgasms I gotta give you to get you sweet again? Gimme a number.”

     Tingles crawled up Zara’s back, like a spider’s web of instant pounding lust. She was human. His voice alone affected her deep in that pulsing place in her vagina, that place he tormented with his fingers and cock as often as he could, but with an offer like that, it was a wonder she wasn’t panting and shouting out one hundred and ninety. Her thighs clenched, the hood of her clit tingling.

      “Sex doesn’t fix everything.” her body disagreed heating up like a giant magnet that was only pulled in Rider’s direction. She tried to jostle him away with her butt, he only held her hips tighter, his face in her hair. “Just tell me it’s nothing to do with Hades? I can’t. I need to know if it is, Rider, please understand, don't keep me in the dark with this, you not saying what is it only makes my brain going crazy thinking the worst.”

     “Nothing will happen to you.” deep growled assurance in his tone and while she believed him it didn’t stop the terror that lived in her twenty-four seven. No one could understand it and now Hades had shown his hand once more not giving any fucks by killing Tiny, it was only a matter of time before--- “You think I can’t protect what’s mine? You still don’t get it yet? You’re all mine, Zara. Your pussy, your beautiful fuckin’ mouth, that crazy mind that jumps half-cocked. All of it belongs to me and you should grasp by now I take care of what is mine.”

     An itchy warm feeling crawled through her body. “You sound like a caveman who doesn’t want to share his carefully crafted shovel. Careful I don’t beat you over the head with it.” He allowed her to slip out from under his hands when she faced Rider his eyes were slits. “And that’s not a damn answer to what I asked. I don’t need protection, only not to be kept in the dark.”

     Deadly quiet he asked. “Who you wantin’ me to share you with exactly, Zara? Far as I see it there’s only me takin’ care of your pussy. Am I wrong? You got your pale eyes on someone else?” His words were like a boulder to the chest, emptying her lungs of air.

     Silence. Though she did open her mouth and closed it right back up. That wasn’t good enough for Rider she could see from the stubborn tilt of his chin as if he were saying she’d set this train on its track she better fucking take it all the way goddamn home now. Jesus. When he was wrong he was sooo wrong.

     “Waitin’ for an answer.”

      Her own chin went up. “Just because you say you’re waiting doesn't mean I must jump, Rider. I’m not one of your boys. You’re being stupid, that’s not what I said at all, you twisted my words into something ugly and hearing what you want to hear.  Only that you have outdated notions on what you see as yours.”

      She felt the air stir like trying to walk through thick sludge in nothing but flip flops, this conversation was escalating fast.

      She should have just left him to his shitty mood and beer.

      Zara had her own annoyances today that had nothing to do with a six-foot moody biker who seemed to have climbed off his Harley the wrong way.

      She was sleeping very little.  It might have something to do with the psycho who was still terrifying her from the shadows. But that was just a stab in the dark guess.

      After her visit with Angela had gone well a few days back, it got Zara to thinking of her own family back in Boston who to this day thought she was still backpacking around the world.

      Seriously, backpacking.

      She’d never slept outdoors once in her life.

       It was the lamest excuse she’d given on the biannual phone calls Hades had allowed her to send her family so as not to arouse suspicion of her sudden disappearance. Call him a psycho but he had tied up all those loose ends, unfortunately. Of course, her parents hadn’t been pleased, far from it, they believed she was on drugs or worse, for dropping out of the internship position her father had set up for her with his law firm.

      She’d be on the trajectory to being a junior partner had it all panned out as her father had wanted.

     Things happened for a reason, a season or to learn a lesson. Zara still couldn’t quite figure what role Hades and co played in her life, other than monsters exist. Until he was found she was always going to fear the shadows. She’d never have peace.

      “You didn’t answer. Is your bad day to do with him? I have a right to know.”

      “I said I’d tell you if we knew anything.” it didn’t directly answer her question but it dialled back on some of her rising anxiety. “You’re not mine, Zara?”

      Oh, sweet hell.

      She inhaled, held that one single breath in her lungs before letting it go calmly. She’d seen this man throw his head back in the hardest belly laughs, she’d seen him joke around in the bike shop with his brothers, not to mention when he was feeling romantic slash wanting to get into her pants. She’d even seen him in his rare dark moment that night of his raid when he’d resembled an avenging devil, but it was the first time she’d seen his eyes flat cold and on her.  Snakes crawled through her belly.

      She frowned looking him dead in the eye. “I didn’t say that.”

      “Far as I can see that’s exactly what you said. Unless you sayin’ I’m goin’ deaf now.” strange how a pretty large kitchen can shrink considerably under the scrutiny stare of a bad biker man leaning against the cabinets, arms folded over his naked chest. “You’re in my bed every night.”

      “It’s my bed!” she fired back just to make a point. The point being she didn’t even know and hated this conversation even more now. All she’d wanted was a pile of pasta and maybe a Disney movie, she still had Frozen saved on DVR to watch, how had this night turned so sour so quickly?

      “Our bed.” he amended with a dirty smirk on his face.

      “We don’t live together, Rider!” her tone was fuming for a blast of a second, even as she said it she knew she was wrong and just lashing out. “You told me you’d give me space.”

     “That’s what you want?”

      No. It’s not. Zara did her own slow exhaling and took those few seconds to breathe before they got into an unnecessary argument. Too late.

     "That’s what you want? Gotcha. Then what am I even doin’ here, Zara? fuck this walkin’ on eggshells waitin’ for you to see what’s clearly in front of your nose, and fuck you. You want me gone, sweetheart, watch me fuckin’ go."

     “Rider. Dammit…”

      And with that Rider charged out in the coolest way she'd ever seen before, he’d grabbed up both his shirt and jacket, his long legs striding so fast he practically left skid marks on the tiled floor. The door slammed behind him.

      A second later she heard the purr of his bike starting up.

      She sucked in a stunned breath. Blinking a few times staring at the back door.

      Did that just happen?

      Of all men…Rider would have been last on the list of suspects to ever cut and run in that way.  She giggled unexpectedly, eyes rolling, her tizzy attitude drained in that one laugh.

       She never realized before. Blind really. Despite all he’d done for her, she should have recognized the signs, even his boys had told her so. Until right that second it became crystal clear, a bolt to the temple. That man was in love with her. Real love. So much love that the snapped words had hurt him. And rather say something hurtful back to her he’d left. She’d hurt him. Damn.

      Zara’s ears twitched, sure enough, there he went, his bike roaring down the street, the distinct purr was Rider's pride and joy and he was probably abusing the poor thing to get away fast enough.                

      She wondered if he knew he'd rushed out of his own house.

      And the silliness was, despite her cruel uncalled for words they were living together. No long drawn out conversations had been needed. Rider wanted to be with her and Zara most definitely wanted to be with him, why was she kicking up such a stink about wanting space? when all Zara wanted was to be fused to Rider’s side. Forever. Relationships were hard to figure out without a map. All she knew was, Rider made her happy, and she never felt more ultra-feminine than when blue eyes were raking over her from head to toe, fucking her with his gaze.

     They’d just had their first couple fight. She sighed.

      It was kind of romantic, really. Well, it would be if he ever came back.

     Shrugging, she unglued her feet.  A woman had to eat, pasta waited for no moody man, and she’d probably ring his cell phone any minute now to come back home but first she had burgers to grill.

      Instagram-worthy coming right up.

     "I hope you starve, you, idiot. It would serve you right." She muttered to herself still amused at his antics. I mean, really, Rider. Big Idiot loved her.

      Love. God.

     Forget the emotionally abuse from her captors, that right there was some pure bonafide scary stuff.

      Humming along with the radio, taking care of food preparation, she was heavily into cooking when … Ahh, her hearing picked up a noise. It wasn't necessary to call Rider back after all. That same rumble of an engine pulling into the garage port. Her heart began to swell in her chest, above the noise of her pulse banging wildly to realize he'd come back. She heard the heavy steps as he took a couple of stairs up to the back door, and the scuff of his boots on the concrete mudroom floor leading to the kitchen and then ... he was inside.

      When life was stripped bare, it was just this left. Him and her. Details didn’t matter, not really. 

      She rounded her shoulders, placing the last glass dish she'd used for the melted garlic butter into the dishwasher, she dropped in a dish tablet and closed it over, setting it to boil wash before saying. "You left..." It was meant to sound accusatory but came out breathier than she'd wanted.

      She felt his heat along the length of her back as he approached.

      His sigh was audible right before his hands spanned her waist, dragging her body to stand flush with his. That same hand traveled up her stomach sending shivers through her body until it circled the front of her throat. Holding her gently in what anyone would call an aggressive move, it was anything but to Zara. His thumb worked along her hammering pulse.

      "It was five minutes, Icy. I left for five fuckin' minutes, didn't even get halfway down the block before I circled back like a fuckin' halfwit unable to leave you."

     Enveloped in warmth and love Zara smiled when those gorgeous lips she adored skimmed her bare collarbone. It was too hot to wear anything fancy, but she'd wanted to look decent for him tonight so had worn a new strappy vest top that A-lined out around her belly but clung to her breasts. It was a renewed sensation to want to feel feminine again.     

      Lips moved against her neck, Zara tipped her head back wallowing in his touch, leaving it against his shoulder. She supposed she could forgive him. "You looked cute as hell flouncing out.  I thought for a second you were going to pack your teddy bear in a little suitcase and drag it out behind you." No stopping her fun, she giggled uncontrollably when he growled against her skin, scraping his teeth as she assumed a punishment. The bite felt nice. Of course, she laughed again to have a little more. Rider didn't disappoint.

     "It was not cute, dammit, Icy. You piss me off and make my dick ache all at the same time. I don't know whether to murder you or fuck you stupid half the time." She felt the dangerous tension slip through them. It melted her. His candor was always something she admired in Rider, the way he could and did just say what he wanted, no fear of consequences. If he thought it, he said it. His arms wound tighter around her waist, his crotch ground to her ass. She doubted murder was on his mind right now unless that was a very large throbbing hammer he was hiding in his pants.

     Turning in his arms, he kept her exactly where he wanted her and Zara was fine with that. Cranking her head back to look up she saw so much swirl in his eyes. Her Rider so pensive. She stroked his stubble, leaving her hand there.

     "My handsome runaway."

     "You don't even have the grace to be furious that I left. Didn't even throw one fuckin' dish against the door. You're here laughin’ your butt off burnin’ food like I haven’t even ruined you." Rider scowled.

      God. His handsome face did funny things to her insides. Her belly began to ache, not in a bad way. In a hot, wanting to fuck hard way. Her heart giving one heavy lazy thump.

     "I do not burn food, biker man!" just in case, she sneaked her hand around him and flipped the stove off.

      Zara grinned one of those rare wide grins that slowly was coming back into her life. Into her soul.

      All thanks to him.

      She ran fingers against his pinched brow until the creases smoothed out once again giving him back the most beautiful face she'd ever seen. She giggled as he leaned down and nipped her lower lip, held it in his teeth. His pissed off was veiled, but bristling beneath his surface. Everything came alive in Rider when he had a burr under his hat. He'd never been sexier to Zara.

      Using both hands around the back of his neck she encouraged him to bend forward, he caught onto what she wanted and crushed her mouth, sealing together in a kiss so hot it boiled her blood causing dampness to flood between her legs. Rider always kissed her like it was the end of the world, their contact was a blaze, never giving her time to follow the patterns of just where his lips would explore next, she held on, opened to the thrust of his tongue, all logic and stubbornness falling away, it was only her and him and their devil-hot kiss. After long minutes, he gave one last provocative pull before drawing away. His eyes all over her lips still.

     She could feel the vibration from his deep, shaky inhale. Body to body.

     "Am I? Yours?" A dare for her to deny it.

      The tension came back just like that, not because she feared the question, but it suggested as though it was the first time they'd been real with one another, actually saying the words and the complexity of this bad biker actually wanting to know if he belonged to her didn’t pass her by. She felt its full meaning and what it must cost him of all men to ask it.                

      Zara held her breath, watching how silently he watched her. Her patient Rider had been nothing but accommodating with her this entire time, waiting weeks and weeks for her to catch up to where he already was, to accept them together, only gently pushing back against her when she tried to deny what they were.

    Oftentimes you didn't see perfection right in front of you for the mist of anxiety in your way, as her therapist explained it to her.

      She was seeing Rider.

      Her lips puckered, his eyes narrowed but as she knew he would he cranked his head down and lay his lips to hers, briefly, already she missed them when he rose.

      He waited again for her answer.

     "I suppose you must be.  If only to keep you from running away from home again. The streets are no place for someone so pretty and our bed is too big for just me. I mean, I was about to make missing person posters. I nearly called your boys for a full-scale search. I was planning to make sausage link rolls with a side of BBQ chips or pita chips and tofu burgers for the vegans. I saw a good recipe on Martha Stewart's website. People always search better on a full stomach, don't you think so, Ambrosio?" With every word the humor built in Zara until she felt as though her belly would burst if she didn't laugh.

      The darker his scowl, the bigger the urge.

      He moved fast.

     Rearing back so he could toss her over his shoulder fireman style. She squealed, her hands reaching out to balance on his hard butt dangling like she was a slab of beef he was carting home from the market. She’d never felt so wanted. Lust fizzled between them, making the air thick syrup.

     He took long steps, purposeful strides down the hallway, past the living room, Zara laughing the whole time. "I demand you put me down, Ambrosio. YOU left, you don't get to be a caveman about it. You're not my president to throw your weight around." Bouncing on his shoulder, he gave her ass a firm palm holding her steady.

      “No. But you’re my fuckin’ old lady and you’re laughing at me, Icy, you need a firm hard fuck.” He took to the stairs as though she weighed nothing, he didn’t even have the audacity to huff hard. Destination was crystal clear, she moaned a little.

      Exhilarated. Turned on. Her spirit light, Zara laughed when he kicked open the last door on the end of the hall tossed her onto the large unmade bed. We're only gonna climb back into it later. Was always his excuse when she complained he never made the bed. She was falling in love with a hobo.

     Sprawled on the white bedding, she braced her hands and lifted her torso. No intentions of moving, not when she was far more interested in what the big bad biker man was going to do now. She watched him inhale slowly .... fists on his hips, breathing through his flared nostrils stood at the bottom of the bed like a dark avenging badass. His cut came off first, tossed on the chair over in the corner, next he kicked his boots off, left them wherever they landed. "Really, Rider, can't you tidy those away..." she taunted with a slow-growing smile.

      It had the desired effect as he bared his teeth growling. Eyes heated and pinned on her.

      Her heart rate increased. Places began to throb wanting to be filled by him.

     "Really pushin’ it, baby. I'd shut it while you're ahead."

     "Or…else?"

      That did it.

      Body soaked ready and begging, she watched him with the hunger of a woman wanting to be fucked by the right man as he prowled himself across the bed, all muscle and sinew moving together beneath his denim and wife beater, crawling right over her until she was caged in by that much larger body, he kept coming until he’d forced her back up against the headboard. She purred, hands going around to hold his waist, her foot hooking against his ankle, locking him in place just as he held her down, his weight was so incredibly good, she pumped up her hips for any kind of friction.

     "Or else your man won't fuck you stupid. He won't fuck you until you're hoarse from screamin'. Your man won't fuck you until that pretty little fuckin' pussy is shaking from the inside, drippin' for me.”

      When he dirty talked, she dissolved into a puddle. Like a bomb has been waiting for the right opportunity to go off, she enjoyed the spiral of heat.

      She shut it.

      And Rider fucked her stupid.