Knight (71 page)

I only wished it was the first time I heard it.

“Where are you going.” Thorne grumbled the question. His head was asleep, but another part of him readied, wide-awake.

I smiled and shifted away from the pulsing hardness pushing against my leg. That only encouraged Thorne. I didn’t know if all men were that...insatiable, but today couldn’t start how last night ended.

My cell phone alarm buzzed under the pillow, reminding me to slip from the comfortable bed and escape from under Thorne’s paw. My pulse beat against my chest—matching the vibrating buzz of the alarm. I never suffered a metronome before. Never needed to fear falling behind the beat.

But I was close today.

Exorcist wanted his drugs. My mornings were once a gentle greeting to the day. I’d sing a few songs in the shower, serve coffee and pancakes to the morning rush. No meth. No bikers.

I had no pancakes this morning, but fear stuck to me like spilled syrup. Two days passed, and the plan I had to save the myself and the club bordered on insanity.

Thorne’s hand gripped the softness of my hip. I sighed. I didn’t care what happened to me. Ex could and probably would kill me. I lasted longer than I thought anyway. Making it to adulthood was a miracle, and actually functioning like a healthy woman was a gift from whatever gods blessed or cursed Anathema.

But the thought of anything happening to Thorne or my brothers ruined me.

He was right to have me make-up with them. I loved Brew, even if he hadn’t been able to protect me from everything twisted in my world. And Keep meant to do good. He really did. But he needed help. All the time I used to beg for someone to hear me, and I never once listened to his silent screams.

The meth in his socks wasn’t even hidden well. The baggie poked up from the opened drawer, so I took it. The first step for me to protect my family was to protect them from themselves. I’d probably get pummeled for it later.

“You aren’t tired?” Thorne’s baritone shivered me all over. “You have too much energy, sweetheart.”

I stilled as his hand tickled over my hip, across my waist. “Maybe you’re just getting old.”

“You don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”

“I want to get a shower.”

He edged closer to me, his hand dropping low. I shuddered as his fingers brushed a part of me still slick from my excitement and his dominance.

“I’ll get one too.”

He didn’t nuzzle. He dove for me, biting the sensitive skin right between my neck and shoulder. I was sure I had a bruise from last night, but that didn’t prevent him from biting just as hard as when he held me under him during the night. My hips bucked back. Instinctive.

“Get you cleaned up to make you dirty again,” he threatened.

“You don’t have to do that.”

I blushed. I was as bad at getting out of sex as I was getting into it. Whatever I did last night worked. I bent down to set my new guitar in its case, and Thorne dove on me. Ripped my clothes off. Entered me before I said a word.

I liked it that way. Spontaneous and passionate. I didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to worry. Thorne devoured my body, and I let him.

I
wanted
him.

Except now my nerves frayed like snapped guitar strings, and I counted the hours until I had to free myself from Anathema long enough to betray it.

Or was I saving it?

Or was I just saving my own ass and pretending that I had any control over anything that endangered the club?

Thorne ignored me. I gasped as he reached down and grabbed right between my legs. His fingers parted the slickness, and he chuckled at the mess between my thighs.

“You do need a shower.” He whispered into my ear. His finger wove a dizzying melody over the little sensitive nub I once tried so hard to avoid. My body jerked against his hand. It only made me messier. “Or maybe you need another load inside you?”

He was vulgar. He was harsh. He was as honest as any man I ever met, and he delivered that honesty with brute force and unapologetic lust.

My body responded. I had no idea what was right or wrong, good or bad. I also didn’t dare ask Thorne. Submitting to his desires was far safer than understanding mine.

Especially as his fingers circled that part of me that only he had ever made quiver, shake, and wet. I never explored there, never touched, never let myself
feel
anything. But he did. Every motion of his finger or lick of his tongue played me like his own instrument. He ripped the moans from my throat and silenced the same sound with his lips or, in a moment of my own bravery, his cock.

His finger entered me, and both of us sang our relief. His cock flexed hard along my ass. My body wanted more than just his finger. I wetted around him, hot and frantic and as revealing as any words I might have said or hints I may have dropped.

I wasn’t used to such intense seduction. I could sing a sexy melody, feel the thick beat within my belly, but Thorne didn’t let me explore my body’s reactions.

Maybe if I had asked.

Maybe if Thorne learned what had happened…

I regretted that thought as soon as it prickled my mind. The memory fractured through my arousal. I stiffened.

I didn’t want him to know.

But, Christ. He’d find out.

For as much as I wished to hide it, he figured it out. He had been inside me. Asked the questions. Probably realized it the first minute he saw me naked.

My skin was unblemished, but that didn’t mean the handprints weren’t as obvious as the bands of ink binding his chest. Keep and Brew didn’t know about the abuse. But if Thorne pieced to together, it was only a matter of time before they learned someone hurt their sister.

And then all hell would break loose.

For as many nights as I cried myself to sleep wishing for my brothers to help me, nothing would be more horrible than revealing the truth to the men I loved most in this world.

Thorne’s finger dove in deep as he adjusted his body around mine. It was too late. I tensed, but he only liked that promise. His free arm wove under my shoulders and pinned me against his chest. Our hips met.

And a nightmare worse than Exorcist came back to life.

I shifted away. Thorne didn’t let me go. My voice lost somewhere between fear and childhood, and I shook my head.

It hadn’t worked then, and it didn’t work now.

I braced for the inevitable smack. Thorne never raised his hand.

“P—
please
,” I whispered. “I...not now.”

Thorne’s chuckle rumbled with the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong, Bud?  Afraid you’ll like it?”

The crashing, panicked, terrified scream wasn’t just in my head. The sound I silenced for so long in my past, in my memories, in my nightmares ripped from my lips.

I thrashed out of the bed and collapsed on the floor. Thorne swore and leapt away from my flailing legs. My foot hurt, and he grabbed his knee with a harsher profanity.

“Jesus Christ, Rose!”

“Sorry!” I didn’t mean to apologize, but repeating the word prevented me from saying anything else. “Sorry. Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Thorne gritted his teeth. “I should ask you the same fucking question.”

“I’m fine.”

“Like hell.”

He stared at me, the gun-metal of his eyes shadowed. He wove a hand around the length of dark hair shading his face. His biceps flexed hard. The bands of ink on his chest tugged against the surge of air he hadn’t unleashed in a torrent of profanity.

“Got something you want to tell me?”

I pulled a shirt from my bag. It didn’t cover nearly enough, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen, tasted, and claimed every bit of me anyway.

I wondered if he’d still touch me if he knew the truth.

If he knew just how similar it had felt.

How he asked the same goddamned question.

I wasn’t afraid it those touches would feel good. They never did, and he hadn’t cared.

But now?  The last thing I wanted was to ruin what pleasure I did finally claim for my own.

“Sorry,” I said again. “I just...”

“You what?”

“I should get a shower.”

He swore. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I’m
fine
.”

“You’re full of shit.”

I sighed. “You sure do sweet-talk a girl.”

He growled as I gathered my clothes. “Where the hell are you going?”

It wasn’t a change of topic, it was an escape. Except I dove from the depths of my memory right into the next danger that would ruin me with violence and hate.

“I need to get out of here,” I said. “Just for a while.”

“Out of Pixie?”

“Yeah.”

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Thorne’s expression might have frightened me back to bed if I hadn’t feared Exorcist more. “Unless you want to pick out a funeral plot, your ass isn’t going anywhere.”

I shrugged. “I’m going stir-crazy.”

“Yeah, I can see how getting killed might alleviate your boredom.”

“I’m not going to get killed. I’m just going to...”

Meet Exorcist and orchestrate a drug deal. I gnawed on my lip.

“I need to go get my paycheck,” I said. “From the diner.”

Thorne frowned. “I’ll send someone to get it.”

“The last time any members of Anathema went to the diner, they beat up my manager and threatened him until he promised to give me a raise.”

“Good men.”

“Besides, I was going to go check out another job.”

Thorne waited. I cleared my throat.

“Lyn offered me a gig.”

“You aren’t stripping.” The growl edged in his voice. “Not ever again.”

“She wants me playing music. I just wanted check in. Make sure she was okay after everything.”

He said nothing as he tugged on a pair of jeans. The muscles in his abs flexed hard. I remembered how strong he was, how perfect those hardened arms and chest rocked me during the night. It wasn’t fair that I could lust and fear his strength.

“You’re lying to me.” Thorne said. “Why?”

“I’m not lying. I told you. I want to get out of Pixie for a bit.”

“You won’t tell me why you freak when I touch you wrong. You won’t tell me who the fuck hurt you.” He extended his arms. “Someone fucked you up, Rose. Tell me so I can help you.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“Then you won’t be getting any.” He pointed toward the door. “I have enough bullshit to deal with without chasing down any of your fucking demons. But I don’t care how
fucked
the club is. The only thing I want to do right now is kick the shit out of whoever did this to you.”

I hated myself. My past tarnished me before, left me dirty and grimy and grated with such awful truth that I didn’t know when the nightmare ended and the rest of me began. But I never, ever thought I’d be
grateful
for the opportunity to hide behind it.

As long as Thorne thought my past abuse freaked me out enough to run, I wouldn’t have to worry about making an excuse to meet with Exorcist.

“I’m leaving,” I said. “Just for the afternoon.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“Want to bet?”

I seized a breaking breath. “I’m not your prisoner, Thorne.”

“Really?”

I didn’t like his tone. Or the way he looked at me. Or how the sudden flutter in my chest matched the cruelty tightening his jaw.

“No. You don’t have the authority.”

“Yes, I do.”

My stomach twisted. “I told you before. I am not your whore.”

“You think you could stop me?”

“You really are a monster, aren’t you?”

“If it keeps you safe then I am every monster under your bed, demon in your closet, and intruder at your fucking door.”

“I want to leave,” I whispered.

“This is for your own good.”

No one ever acted
for my own good
, and if they said they did, they were lying. Rule number one in Anathema. The club came first. Not little Rose Bud. Not even if she needed help.

“You’ve done nothing but try to control every aspect of my life since I got here,” I said. “And guess what?  I’m no safer with you than I am on my own.”

“I’m keeping you alive.”

“Oh, you’re doing a dynamite job.”

The metal in his eyes flashed, the strike of the hammer against the pin. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what?” I pointed to the bed. “You’ll hit me?  Rape me?  Hold me here against my will until I tell you every last secret I’ve been hiding from you?”

“That’s a start.”

“Jesus.” My nails dug into my fists. “If my brothers knew what you were doing...”

He laughed. “What the fuck do you know about your brothers?”

“They don’t treat me this way.”

“You
really
think they give a fuck about you?”

My stomach dropped. “Of course they do.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. He didn’t answer. I hid my trembling with curled fists. “Why are you being so cruel?  You’re the one who said they wanted what was best for me.”

“I lied.”

The world fell away, and the silence of his admission rang in my ears.

“I don’t understand.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to.”

“You...you told me to forgive them.”

“So I could keep you close to them.”

“What are you talking about?”

Thorne bit whatever profanity he wanted to utter and instead studied me with hardened, cruel eyes. The gaze of a monster. The brutality of the scarred demon on his cut and the darkness of every last band of ink lashing his body.

“One of your brothers is a traitor,” Thorne said. “You’re going to find out which one it is.”

A
traitor
? 

I fell against the wall. I accidentally kicked the guitar case left by the bed. The metal edge struck my ankle. A line of blood tickled over my foot.

It wouldn’t be the only blood he wanted spilled.

“My brothers aren’t traitors.”

“One is.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Not about this.”

“Then you’re insane.”

“One of your brothers is feeding Exorcist information about Anathema. Our locations. Our plans.” His eyes narrowed. “Everything.”