Out of the Ashes (40 page)

I didn’t know what to say. What words did you choose when someone bares their soul to you? When someone rips it open bare, so you can see every broken piece, every heartbreaking shard and presents it to you?

“Zane,” I whispered.

He gripped the back of my neck tightly. “Way I feel about the two of you,” he interrupted me. “I’d be fuckin’
gone
if anything happened to either of you. There would be nothing left. That’s why I can’t risk it. Can’t risk you,” he finished. He looked at me with guarded eyes, like I was going to rear back in disgust after his heartbreaking story.

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever met,” I whispered through my tears. “The fact you went through
that,
” I flinched at the thought, “and can still fill my and Lexie’s life with so much happiness makes you the most amazing person on this planet,” I declared.

He opened his mouth to argue no doubt.

I put my finger to his lips. “No. Mia’s talking now,” I said firmly. “I’m sorry. From the depths of my soul I’m so sorry that happened to you. To Laurie. My heart breaks for you. For her.” I searched his eyes. “’Cause she probably felt like the luckiest girl on earth every second she was with you. And I bet if she was here now she’d say she’d do nothing different if it meant she got that time with you. To be loved by you,” I whispered.

Zane’s face turned stormy. “You can’t say that shit, Mia,” he growled. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

I refused to back down. “I can,” I told him with conviction. “Because if that was me, I’d go through
anything—”
I barely got the
ing
out of
anything
before Zane’s lips fastened over mine, shutting me up and filling me at the same time.

He twisted us around so my back slammed into the wall, his entire body pressing on mine.

“Fuck, Mia,” he murmured against my mouth as his hand ran along my hips, stopping at my breasts. “This is us,” he murmured in between kisses that trailed down my chest. “Saying that shit—” He looked up, yanking my breast out of the cup of my bra. “Means I’m never letting you go again. Ever,” he promised before his mouth fastened on my nipple.

I ran my hands through his hair, crying out at the pleasure, the touch I had been denied for months. I moaned in protest as his mouth left my nipple and moved back to brush mine, his eyes flaming with desire.

“You gotta realize, Wildcat—you may be my sunshine, but I’m still darkness. I’ll always be what that day made me,” he growled.

“Beautiful,” I finished for him.

His face froze for a split second before his mouth claimed me once more, and he lifted me, striding us toward his bedroom. It was a wild sort of desperation between the both of us, to get each other’s clothes off, get skin touching skin. Once Zane had me naked, he didn’t push me down on the bed like I expected. He stepped back. I made to reach down to his jeans and pull them off, but he stopped me with a brisk command.

“Stay there,” he ordered, his eyes on my naked body.

I did as I was told, feeling exposed but safe. The way Zane’s eyes roved over every inch of me made me feel powerful, beautiful.

“Two months,” he murmured, stepping forward. “Two months,” he repeated against my mouth. I lost my breath when he roughly pushed me on the bed. He spread my legs, staring right
there
. “Imagined every inch of your body, your beauty,” he told me. “Didn’t think I had it wrong. I did.” His eyes met mine. “More beautiful than I ever remembered. Pussy’s more beautiful than I pictured.” He yanked my body so my hips were at the end of the bed, kneeling in between my legs. “Let’s see if it tastes sweeter than I remember,” he growled.

He then licked, sucked, and bit at my clit in such a way I thought I’d be the first woman to die from an intense climax. When I came down, still breathing, I relaxed, only to have Zane flip me on my stomach, lifting me so I was on all fours. He leaned over me and kissed my neck. His hand moved from my sensitive clit backward. “Told you I was going to take every inch of you,” he said on a low growl, his finger probing my ass. “Gonna do that now, Wildcat,” he continued, while he pushed in.

I didn’t expect to love it, but I was with Zane so I don’t know why I didn’t expect anything less than a-fucking-mazing. He started slow at first, then when he registered my sounds of pleasure, me pushing back against him, he went fast. And hard. And it was magnificent.

Bull thought the past four years of his life had been hard. They had. They’d been fuckin’ agony. Living in that void, that void of nothingness, despair and self-hatred. That was a fate worse than death. Living those two months didn’t compare to that hell, because at least he could breathe knowing his girls were still in the light, still bathing in sunshine. That’s what got him through every day. That and the club. He’d gone nomad for two months, driving all over the fuckin’ country, trying to find a way out. A way out of the darkness he found himself back in, facing a life without them. So he did shit. Shit that took him back to the depths. Shit that left the taste of ash in his mouth. But nothing could get him to forget her. Forget them. Not for a second. So he lost his control, found himself back in Amber. Told himself it was only to sell his house. Talk to Cade about leaving permanently.

Then he saw her. The light came gleaming back in as soon as he glimpsed her. Her struggled against it. Fucking battled, especially when he tasted her lips again. Took everything he had to pull himself off her. When he couldn’t find it in himself to be cruel, to dismiss her, he tried to disgust her. By telling her about Laurie. He spoke the words that had never seen the light of day, expecting her to think of him as a monster, the way he thought of himself. Instead, his beautiful girl gave him more. Forgiveness. The look in her eyes, the acceptance, somehow led to him forgiving himself. Finally letting go of that shit that had been festering, poisoning his soul. Then he got her back. In every way. And fuck if he didn’t feel like grinning, ear to ear.

“Zane?”

Bull jerked up, moved his eyes from his guitar. The one that Laurie had bought him. The one he played in bed to her, after she would beg him to play stupid girly songs. He would. Back then, he’d do anything to put a smile on her face. Didn’t take much to put a smile on his either.

His eyes landed on Lexie. She had already thrown herself at him earlier that night when she first saw him. Beamed at him, gave him another shaft of light. She’d teared up a little, then commenced in an epic fuckin’ chatter, filling him in on everything he had missed in the last two months. Her face wasn’t light and easy like it had been then. It was tortured, full of anguish, something that didn’t belong on such a face.

Mia had told her. He wasn’t surprised. There were no secrets between those two.

He braced. He didn’t know what to expect from Lexie.

“Yeah, Lex,” he answered softly, carefully.

She walked up to him, moved to stand in front of him, and paused.

“Can I play you a song?” she asked finally, her voice quiet.

Bull gazed at her, then nodded.

She gave him a small, sad smile, then sat on the chair in front of him.

She started to play ‘Unclouded Day,’ by Audra Mae.

Bull had no fuckin’ clue how she knew to play that song. How she knew her soft voice, playing those fuckin’ soul wrenching words would fix him. Shake him to his core. Somehow bring him peace. Bring Laurie peace. He didn’t know how she knew to play that song, but he loved her for doing it. Every part of him. That moment, as she trailed off, finished the song, he knew he’d never see a glimpse of darkness again.

Little did he know, shit would happen to prove him fucking wrong.

One Month Later

I was happy. It wasn’t an excuse but it was one of the reasons. I was deliriously happy. Never in my wildest dreams would I have conjured up a man like Zane. Big. Tattooed. Scary. Silent. Silence was not something I knew well. Not something my daughter knew well. But it seemed to fit us. Seemed to counteract our constant chatter. Gave us balance. He didn’t need words to communicate how he felt with us. But he was using them more often, speaking to us. I commented on it, one night in bed. I was curled up in his side. I didn’t know what I had expected his answer to be, but I definitely didn’t expect my heart to almost explode with love.

He pulled me to lie on top of him, like he did when he wanted to command my complete attention.

“I don’t speak because up until recently, I haven’t had anything to say,” he began gruffly. “My attention, my life, was dedicated to the club and my thirst for revenge. That thirst coursed through my veins in a white hot intensity that dwarfed everything else.” His eyes were far away; even though he had his arms around me, his mind was somewhere else. “When I got that revenge, thirst was gone. Fury was left. And the battle—” He paused for a moment, eyes moving back to focus on me as if he had to make conscious effort to drag himself out of his head. He stroked my cheek. “The battle that I fought every day against the demons that threatened to destroy me. To speak, to joke, is to do more than exist, and, baby, that wasn’t what I was doing. I was
surviving
. I was doing that in silence, or as close as I could get. My life was a dark, lonely place.” He paused again, wiping a tear that had trickled down my face at his words. At the glimpse beneath the hard façade. He did his half smile thing before continuing.

“People came into my life, shed some light. It wasn’t much, like the last glimpses of a sun before the night takes over, but it was something. It was a fraction more than existing, but nowhere near living. I was living life in fuckin’ limbo.” His face changed completely, tender replacing the hard, battle worn look he wore as he spoke. He looked at me. Not at me. But into me. “Then you,” he half whispered. “Then you and Lexie let the light in and goddamn blinded me with it. That’s why I was angry with you. Furious. My battle in the dark had been brought into the light. I didn’t want to live in silence. You and Lexie, you don’t fuckin’ shut up. You don’t stop talkin’ ‘cause you don’t stop livin. You made me want to talk. Have something to say. You gave me life, baby,” he said with passion.

I stared at him for a long moment, letting all of his beautiful words sink in, letting them warm my soul. “I love you,” I blurted. “I’m usually the one who can’t shut up, got words for everything,” I told him in a slightly choked voice. “But I got none. Apart from those three.”

Zane tightened his hand around the back of my neck and yanked me down so our mouths brushed. “Those are all the words I need, Wildcat.”

Then there were none.

Besides being deliriously happy, I was also living with the shadow of guilt. Zane had bared it all to me, everything. His broken soul, his heartbreaking past, everything. I was the one still holding onto secrets, onto my own damaged past. It hurt me, keeping secrets from him, but I was doing it for him. Telling him, opening that can of worms, would do nothing but bring back that fury, that thirst for revenge he had only just sated. And because those three weeks of us, of Zane, Lexie and me was so full of happiness, I didn’t want to pollute it with the poison of the past.

So that was the reason why. Why I slacked. Let down my guard. Failed to notice until it was too late. Lexie and I had just arrived home. Killian was due to pick her up any moment so she was anxious to get in the house, drop off her mountain of books and head off into the sunset yet again. She was chattering away and I felt a warm glow at her unbridled happiness, the fact she was healing so well after her loss. So I didn’t notice the car parked slightly up from our house. Something that would have sent alarm bells normally. I was also anxious to get home, knowing Zane would be back in a matter of hours. I had house prep to do, lady maintenance to do. So I was distracted and didn’t notice the door was unlocked. The door I always locked no matter how small, how friendly the town was.

“No Lexie, you cannot borrow that sweater,” I said, walking through the door. “It’s my favorite one and I don’t want the risk of it disappearing into the depths of your closet, never to be seen again,” I teased, dropping my handbag on the sofa.

“You are acting like I’d hold the sweater hostage,” she replied with slight sarcasm.

I glanced over my shoulder at her. “It’s happened before. Remember the time you wouldn’t give me back my second favorite tee until I let you cook quinoa in the house?” I asked snidely.

She screwed up her nose. “One time,” she argued.

“Remember--” I started but Lexie interrupted.

“Okay, so I have a small history with clothing kidnapping but I cross my heart it won’t happen with this sweater.” She gave me doe eyes.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I conceded.

She grinned and moved to her room. “If you could get it for me, that would be great,” she called over her shoulder.

I shook my head, moving toward the stairs. “Child treats me like her slave,” I muttered, “doesn’t know it should be the other way around, considering I endured
labor
to bring her into this world.”

I was too busy chattering to myself and thinking about Zane arriving later on that night from his run that I didn’t notice the white rose petals scattered on the stairs. It was only when I entered my room and I smelled the perfume that turned my stomach did I realize. My blood turned to ice and I moved to sprint down the stairs.

“Lexie!” I screamed in terror as arms fastened around me.

“Long time no see, Button,” a sickening voice murmured in my ear. A voice that took me back in time and struck absolute terror through every inch of me.

I reacted on instinct. On pure, survival instinct. My heel went to his shin and I kicked hard. He wasn’t expecting me to fight back so his arms loosened and he cursed. It was enough for me to scramble out of his grip and sprint toward the stairs. Toward my baby. Her terrified face met me at the bottom of the stairs.

“Run!” I yelled at her, hearing his footsteps gaining on me.

He wanted to get home. He
needed
to get home. Not in the years since he had welcomed the darkness did he ever think he’d be anxious to get back. When he was on runs, doing what he did best, was when the demons were silenced. When he was beating the living fuck out of people who needed to be beaten. Extracting information out of those who knew too much. Killing sick fucks who wronged the club, wronged humankind in the worst way possible. Rapists were his favorite. He sought them out. Made them suffer. He couldn’t change the past. Couldn’t go back and save her. He could save others. Could make those men hurt in ways they never thought possible. What was another black mark on an already charred soul?

But now, he didn’t need to draw blood to get relief. Respite. He only needed to sink into Mia’s pussy. Taste her mouth. Smell her hair. Hear Lexie’s laugh. Play guitar with her. That was more effective than drawing blood. Taking lives. The light was coming back. Scratch that. It
was
back.

“You gonna make it official, brother?” Lucky asked him with a grin.

Bull glanced at him from the bar, downing the last of his whisky, savoring the burn. His silence spoke for him.

“If you like it then you should put a ring on it.” Lucky did some fuckin’ ridiculous gesture with his hands. “Give us another reason to celebrate,” he clarified, lifting his own drink. “We just smoked the last mother fucker connected to the shooting—that’s cause for a drink.” He finished it as if to make a point. “But a wedding—” His brother gave him a look. “That’s a reason to fucking
par-tay
,” he drawled on a grin, “and a great way to get me laid.”

Brock, who was on his way out, punched him on the arm, not lightly. “As if you need a fuckin’ wedding to get yourself laid, you horny fuck,” he chuckled. “I doubt Bull’s going to put your cock into consideration when debating popping the question.”

Lucky shrugged his shoulders. “Well, my cock will be happy nonetheless,” he said.

Brock grinned at Bull and for once, Bull felt like grinning back. He wouldn’t, but at least he felt included in the easy banter he had been distant from for so long.

“Your cock gets happy on anything to do with Mia, I’ll chop the fucker off,” Bull declared, only half joking.

At this, half the clubhouse roared with laughter at Lucky’s panicked expression and instinctual cupping of his crown jewels. Bull didn’t make jokes, only promises, hence Lucky’s terror for his boys.