Serafina

After making love a third time, Eagle pulled me into his arms and fell into an exhausted sleep. I didn’t move a muscle for three hours, watching the digital clock change minute by minute. At 4 a.m. he’s still snoring lightly and content. We wore each other out, took a shower, then crashed—my heart soaring and sinking like a roller coaster. I’d rather die than take back tonight. There’s no regrets. None. Only the sad reality of what’s to come.

It’s time to leave and I slip from underneath his protective arm. Careful not to make any noise, I take a long look at the man I love. The candle has long since burned out, but there’s a small light on the dresser that he turned on when we got up to shower. I’m grateful for that light now. Though I can’t touch him, I can sure as hell memorize every detail of his face. Blessed with a chiseled jawline and cheekbones a New York model would kill for, the man is so handsome. I love his thick hair and the arch of his eyebrows. I adore the way he’s always playing catch-up with his beard stubble. If Eagle shaves in the morning, he gets a three o’clock shadow.

It makes me laugh. We used to joke about my leg hair growing as fast as his beard. It’s an Italian thing. Happy tears spill down my cheeks. My gaze moves from his face to his arms and chest. Muscles. He works out every day, first thing in the morning. The benefits are obvious. I reach out, but quickly correct my lapse in judgment. Instead, I focus on his tats.

The most significant one is the eagle head that covers his right pectoral. The detail is amazing. LOUISIANA BORN AND BRED is scrolled on his right shoulder. The sheet is tucked around his hips, so I get to admire his stomach, too. The Iron Norsemen name and patch is tattooed on his abdomen, a skull with a rattlesnake coiled around it. Just underneath his belly button is FEAR NONE, RESPECT FEW. Truer words couldn’t be spoken about Eagle. He lives by the Iron Norsemen creed. But the best man I’ve ever known is hidden beneath his rough exterior. A man who is loyal and loving. A man who wants a big family.

Those babies should be ours.

I swipe at my tears. Lingering in his bedroom isn’t going to make it any better. I need to go, and now. “I love you.” That’s all I can say.

I search for my clothes on the floor, gather them up, and leave the room, closing the door.

My purse and backpack are in the bathroom. I get dressed and comb my hair, pulling it back in a sloppy ponytail. Then I turn on the cold water, just enough for a trickle, and splash my face. I turn the faucet off and look in the mirror. Considering I’ve had no sleep, I look pretty good. I know why, I’m coasting on love. The purest kind.

Sure I haven’t left anything behind, I grab my keys off the kitchen counter. There’s a pen and pad of paper by the phone. Should I leave a note? I need to say something. I pick up the pen and write two words—thank you.

I scoot to the door and unlock it. Again I pause, tempted to stay longer. I practically hear Eagle yelling for me to get back in bed. It’s a fantasy. One I’ll never get to experience. Taking a deep breath, I press the lock on the doorknob and step outside, closing myself out of Eagle’s world forever.

I trudge to my VW and manually unlock the driver’s door with my key. Then I climb inside. God, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. How many women have to walk away from the man they love twice? None that I know. Of course no one I know had two brothers who were willing to sell their only sister into servitude.

I stick the key in the ignition and start my car. It’s a relatively silent engine, so I’m not worried it will wake Eagle up. I back out of the parking space and aim for the long gravel road that ends at the highway. Driving slowly, I watch the outline of Eagle’s cabin fade away in my rearview mirror.

The ten-mile section of highway between Eagle’s property and Shreveport is barren at this time of the morning. The sun hasn’t even peeked over the horizon yet. I’m glad, no one will see me crying. As I enter the Shreveport city limits, I turn on the radio. I test various stations, not expecting much. But when I hear Celine Dion belt out a line from “Water and a Flame,” I nearly swerve off the road.

Jesus. I have a playlist that helped get me through the darkest hours after fleeing Holly Beach. This song is at the top. I listen closely, mouthing the lyrics, feeling every word in my gut.

Miraculously, I clear the city. Traffic picks up now and I need to concentrate, I still have a sixty-mile drive to put behind me. And feelings to sift through and a long nap to take if I’m going to work tonight.

The idea of stripping for strangers makes me sick. After giving my body to Eagle, letting my heart bleed all over that bed we shared, whether he knows it or not, it just doesn’t feel right. I glance in the rearview at myself. My eyes are red and puffy from the long cry.

“Suck it up, girl.” That’s what my mama used to tell me when my brothers knocked me around as a kid. Accept your fate. “Goodbye, Eagle.”

Eagle

Waking up alone after spending a night with a woman like Serafina pisses me off. I rub the sleep from my eyes, stretch, and then yawn as I throw the sheet off. Shit. I haven’t slept that hard and long in years. I gaze at the clock on the nightstand—eight o’clock already. Maybe Serafina is in the shower or making breakfast. One thing is certain, I want to make love again before we leave.

I stomp down the short hallway and step into the bathroom. I take a piss and then wash my hands. Last night was perfect, better than I expected it to be. Our chemistry is explosive, and goddamnit, I want more.

I head for the kitchen. All the lights are off and there’s no sign of Serafina. Maybe she went for a walk. I open the front door. Her car is gone. I’m shocked. I slam and lock the door and grab the cordless phone off the counter. That’s when I see the tablet. Thank you is written on the middle of the page. Thank you? That’s all she has to say to me? Things don’t add up. When that happens I lose my temper.

I dial her number as I stalk back into the bedroom and flip on the overhead light. Did I hurt her? Like an asshole, I let my little head do the thinking and fucked Serafina without a condom. Do I regret it? Hell no. She has the tightest little pussy I’ve ever felt.

Her cell rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. I disconnect and hit redial as I pull the comforter off the floor. The bed is a wreck. I cock my head to hold the headset in place while I shake out the blanket. That’s when I see it, a bloodspot on the center of the comforter. The phone falls to the floor.

She wasn’t on her period last night. So either I fucked her too hard, or Serafina was a virgin and didn’t tell me? That’s the only thing it could be. I don’t know if I should be insulted or take it as the ultimate compliment. That beautiful girl gave her innocence up to be with me. The only other time I’ve slept with a virgin was in high school.

I retrace our steps from last night. She was unusually nervous for an experienced woman. She kept asking for shots of whiskey. I’m sure she tried to get me shitfaced so I wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable she was. Getting inside her was like trying to shove my hand in a glove made for a kid.

Shit. Damn. Fuck.

I retrieve the phone off of the floor and redial her number. Straight to voicemail. This time I leave a message. “Serafina, we need to talk. Call me back.”

Why did she run away? I dress in a hurry, knowing this is far from over. There’s no way I’m letting Serafina go now. At first I thought we could be bed buddies, but after we had a great time together and after making love to her, I knew I wanted more. How much more? I don’t know yet. But if I’m the only man that’s ever been inside her, it means something.

Before I leave, I check every window and door to make sure its locked. I strip the bedding off and throw it in the washer. Then I grab my backpack, sunglasses, and keys and head outside. I set the house alarm from my cellphone, then open the detached garage where my Harley is parked. I climb on and check my messages.

There’s a couple texts from Tonsils and Snake. Nothing from Serafina. If the girl thinks we’re done, she’s never known a man like me before. I take care of what’s mine. Giving up your innocence to a filthy biker like me isn’t a good idea.

If I don’t shake the possessiveness that’s starting to consume me, I’m going to claim Serafina and make her my old lady. But first, I’m getting some answers.