Fucking. Woman.

Fucking painful, stubborn ass woman.

I watch her backside as she walks, or rather, storms in front of me up the small, overgrown trail leading to the cabin Malakai owns in the mountains. If it weren’t for the fact that her ass looks fucking incredible in the tight blue jeans she’s wearing, I’d have probably done away with her by now.

Mouthy little shit.

She stops suddenly and turns around, glancing at me with those green eyes that would make any man’s dick hard. I don’t usually go for red heads, but for this one, I think any man would convert. She’s got the kind of hair that is as wild as her personality—deep red, thick, fucking long. Her eyes, though. Emerald green. Framed by thick lashes. Full lips. Button nose. Skin so soft and creamy white it looks almost fake. Aside from a few left-over cuts and bruises from her time with Treyton, her skin is flawless.

Perfection.

With a filthy damned attitude.

Arms cross over her perky little tits. I don’t hide the fact that I drag my eyes over them before finally connecting with hers once more.

“God. Men,” she huffs, chest rising and falling in a soft, deep pant from the walk.

“Anyone would think you’re out of shape, Charlie,” I point out to her. “The way you’re puffin’ and pantin’.”

She frowns then glares. “Anyone would think you have forgotten I spent a long time in Treyton’s hands, so I’m not fully up to scratch yet, Dakoda.”

“Call me Dakoda one more fuckin’ time and see what happens.”

She steps forward, leaning in, arms still crossed over her chest. “Give it your best shot, Dakoda.”

Anger bubbles in my chest, and I step forward; she flinches and steps back, but she’s too slow. Her mouth has pissed me off one too many times in the last hour. I take hold of her arm, spinning her around so quickly she nearly loses her footing. She tries to fight it, no doubt, but I’m used to taking grown men down. She’s got nothing on that.

I hold both her tiny wrists in one of my big hands and pull her close so her back is nearly touching my chest, her arms wedged behind her, between us. Then I pull off the bandana I was wearing beneath my helmet for the ride and use my free hand to bring it around and pull it to her mouth. She curses and squirms, but she’s no match for me. Not even close.

I release her wrists and she flails around. I need both hands to tie her. I tighten the bandana around the back of her head so it’s across her mouth, restricting her speech. She manages a few punches and a few kicks, but I’m unfazed. Violence, pain—it’s nothing to me. I catch one of her flailing hands and twist it behind her back, making her wince. It isn’t hard, but it’s enough to stop her carrying on.

Then I lean in to her ear. “I told you not to test me, woman. I wasn’t jokin’. Now, you learn to shut that pretty mouth of yours, I’ll take the bandana off, if not, I’ll tie you somewhere in that cabin until you can learn some manners.”

I don’t miss the muffled, mumbled curse words she tries to spit at me through the bandana. Shrugging, I push her forward. She protests for a few moments, but when she nearly trips over her own feet, she realizes it’s better to walk than to have me push her over. So, she puts one foot in front of the other and walks. Me following behind her, keeping her hand behind her back.

We walk a little farther in blissful silence. She doesn’t try and say or do anything, she simply walks. For a while, I enjoy the control. But, I should know she isn’t going to just lie down and take what I’m dishing out. I haven’t known her long, but one thing I have learned about Charlie is that she’s like a dog with a bone. Take that bone away from her, and she’s going to get very, very pissed off. Her bone is her spirit. She refuses to let it be crushed.

Without warning, she reaches out with her free hand and quickly snaps a stick off the bushes scratching into us as we move down the path. Then, very quickly, with precision and skill, she swings it around behind her and stabs into whatever bit of flesh she can find, which happens to be my fucking ribs. Letting out a feral growl, I release her hand and she spins around quickly, holding the stick out at me while her other hand unties the bandana. She drops it to the ground.

“Do not ever do that again,” she warns. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

Fucking feisty little bitch.

“And I don’t like smart-ass, arrogant women not doin’ as they’re told.”

“Then it would appear we have a problem.”

I cross my arms, and my ribs burn from where she drove the stick into them. That’ll fucking bruise tomorrow.

“Then we have only one choice: you stay out of my way, I’ll stay the fuck out of yours.”

She narrows her eyes at me, then nods sharply. “Sounds great to me.”

“Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Now walk.”

She gives me a narrow-eyed look but turns and starts walking, shoulders tense, no doubt waiting for me to dish out my revenge. I don’t, because my anger is bubbling, and I will do something I’ll regret. So, instead, I follow her until we reach a small clearing with a cabin sitting in the middle. Been a while since I’ve been up here—a few of us used to come up on the weekends, before things with the club got tense.

“This is,” Charlie begins, then glances at me, “really nice.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, striding past her and walking up the two small front steps and onto the wrap-around deck.

I pull a key out of my pocket and unlock the front door. It’s a bit dusty, considering it’s been a while since anyone used it, but as soon as I step inside, I see it’s been cleaned. Malakai did say he had it stocked. Guess he forgot to clean the outside while he was at it.

I flick on the main light, and the inside lights up, making it easier to see.

Charlie steps in beside me.

“Oh, wow.”

The cabin is beautiful, I’ll give her that. One large bedroom and a pull out in the couch, polished wooden floors, a huge timber kitchen, a fireplace, a big open living area, and all of it well designed with some fancy ass furniture and rugs. I walk in farther, muttering, “You can take the room. Second to the right.”

Charlie is too busy looking around, running her fingers over the walls and the furniture, to hear what I’m saying.

Anyone would think she’s never seen something beautiful before in her life.

Which boasts the question, how hard was her life, truly?

An answer we’re all seeking.

No doubt.

~*~*~*~