Princess (23 page)

I guess I really am like him in one way; I’m the strong one. But I’ve had to be.

Mimicking him, I shutter any trace of emotion from my face, and then I let the words fly. “I’m with Viking; he’s the one who actually protects me. I don’t need you; in fact, I’ve never needed you. My mother stuck around and did everything so you could be a piece of shit sperm donor and go off with your buddies, so please, don’t stop now. And while you’re gone, do us all a favor and stop breathing.”

Brently steps beside us, placing his hand on my arm. “Princess, stop it. You don’t know everything.”

My father glances sadly at my brother and shakes his head. “No son, don’t. Just let it go.”

Brently huffs, sending me an irritated glance before letting his hand fall off my arm and moving toward the door.

Glaring spitefully at my father, I practically spit, “I see you’ve turned him into a good little puppet; nice job, Daddy.” I can’t help myself; my brother’s not the man he used to be, and my father does nothing to steer him from the path he’s on. He’s going to get Brently fucking killed.

Brently spins suddenly, striding toward me in a rush, bellowing, “Will you just shut the fuck up for once?”

Viking jumps in front of him, stopping Brently mid-stride in his pursuit of me, “Snake, not trying to disrespect you or get involved in your family business and all, but that’s my Ol’ Lady you’re talking crazy to. I won’t allow it.”

My brother turns toward my father like a good little soldier, waiting for his orders.

“He’s right son; she belongs to him. He deals with her, not you.”

“She’s my fucking sister,” Brently argues, and my dad raises his eyebrows. Irritated, my brother meets my hurt gaze. “Fine, you know what? Fuck it. Princess, you wanna act like a spoiled fucking brat? Well, stay the hell away from me.”

Viking growls, ready to lay into Brently in my defense, but my brother raises his hands and backs up a few steps, then spins around, storming outside.

Stay away from him?
But we’ve always been there for each other. He was just as screwed up inside as I was growing up. How did I suddenly become the bad guy in all of this? His words slash me inside like razors carving up my flesh. It takes every ounce of pride to stand tall and not start bawling like I want to. Nothing I said was meant to upset my brother.

My father clears his throat, his gaze peering down at my feet as he mumbles, “Sug’, when you’re ready, we’ll talk.” He takes a deep breath and turns away.

Passing Viking, my dad pauses long enough to rest his hand on Vike’s bicep. I watch intently as he thanks him, expecting my dad to give Viking shit for what just went down, but he doesn’t. They shake hands; a mutual respect exchanged and then my father’s swiftly out the same door as my brother.

He’s gone again.
The same as every other time I’ve seen him in my life. He always takes off, never staying and fighting with me like I wish he would.

“Princess.” A raspy grumble comes from the other side of me as Ares angrily follows suit, leaving now that my father’s obviously ready and waiting.

I keep quiet as Viking watches the exchange like a hawk.

After a few moments the bar’s finally empty, minus the nosey bartender who’s stuck cleaning up the huge mess that we’ve made. Viking strides toward me, pulling me into his embrace. His warmth cocoons me, and I break.

I fucking crumble.

The tears come at me with such a powerful force that my legs give out. I could fall to the floor, and at this moment, I don’t care. Everything that just happened with Viking’s dad, all the new information and secrets he was hiding from me, from his brothers. After that huge revelation, there was so much hate and violence; I’ve never seen so much blood before.

The argument with my brother and my father…Brently’s words—I can’t believe he told me to stay away. I love him; I was protecting us. How can he not see that I’m angry to keep my family from hurting?

Sucking in a sob, my heart and body ache so badly, the only comfort I feel is the heat from this man holding me so desperately, his strength promising me that he’ll never let me go. With one arm across my back, keeping me up and against him, he bends a little, tucking his free arm under my butt so he can lift me fully into his embrace.

Complying, I run my hands over his solid chest, wrapping them around his neck and tuck my face against his throat. I’m able to find a sense of peace, being pressed against his heated skin, feeling the pulse beat strongly, reassuring me that he’s safe and not leaving me as well.

“Shhh, Cinderella; I’ve got you, baby,” he rumbles quietly, and I feel him start to walk, carrying me to his hotel room.

I try to quiet and slow the tears, but no matter what I think of, my body does what it wants. Viking doesn’t complain, though; he just holds me tighter to him.

Once we get inside the room, he carefully lays me in the middle of his bed and then takes his boots off. I turn over to my side, giving him my back and tuck my fists under the pillow I’m lying on. My tears still fall freely; they’re just silent now.

The bed dips behind me, and I start to protest that I can’t possibly turn it off enough to have sex right now. Viking distracts me so much, but at this moment, my body needs time to process and heal. Before I’m able to form the right words, so I don’t hurt him by turning him down, he pulls my back into his body.

His heat engulfs me like a blanket, and I’m shocked to realize that I was so cold and alone when he had laid me down. I felt his warmth on the way over here in his arms, but once I was away from him, I felt nothing.

How can someone break through enough that even when your body is in shock, it still recognizes them?

It feels like we’re in bed for hours with daylight fading to dusk. I lie completely silent and still against Viking as my tears escape. He doesn’t move once, holding me snuggly against him with his right arm. His head is resting on his left bicep as he softly plays with my hair, gently pulling it off my face as he soundlessly watches me cry. He doesn’t have to speak to fix me; he holds me, offering his support and comfort.

For a woman like me, that’s all I’ll ever need.

The brightness outside slowly disappears until it resembles dimmed lights flooding throughout the room as the sun finally sets and my emotions come to a crashing halt. I’ve found balance again, but my body’s exhausted, feeling as if I haven’t slept in days.

The tears stop completely, my tender cheeks starting to dry as my eyes get droopy, and it hits me that for the first time besides my mom, I feel cherished by someone. My heart doesn’t weep from being devastated anymore because of my father’s actions. Sure it still hurts me a great deal, but I can almost picture it mending back together—piece by jagged piece—as someone else fills up all the little voids with glue, making me whole again. Teaching me to open my heart and love again, not to push them away, but pull them near.

With that blissful thought, my eyes close and I whisper the words that have the power to crush me if they wanted to. They could dismantle me in the end, pull me apart by the seams if used against me. But even with that scary vulnerability exposed, he deserves to hear them, because even if he’s my undoing, my heart belongs to him.

“I love you, Vike.”

The whisper’s soft as it leaves my lips, but with the weight of what those three little words mean to me, it may as well have been a shout as I finally admit it to him out loud.

He doesn’t skip a beat, continuing to play with my hair. It’s okay, though; I didn’t expect him to answer me back. I like to believe inside that he truly cares for me, and right now, that’s enough.

Snuggling into the pillow as wonderful sleep starts to overtake my senses, Viking breaks the silence with his deep rasp.

“I know, Cinderella.”

Holding my breath, not letting myself succumb yet, I wait for him to tell me it’s over, that he can’t be tied down, even if I am supposed to be his Ol’ Lady.

A few beats pass before he continues, “I’ve loved you since I found you behind that bar and you looked at me like I was your savior instead of a monster.”

He grows quiet, and one last tear slips free as my heart sings with his declaration. Moving my hand to his at my waist, he threads our fingers together and pulls me a little tighter. His lips meet the back of my neck sweetly as I fall into the best sleep of my existence.

The next morning…

A door slams closed
, the noise echoing throughout the small room and disturbing my sleep. Parting my lids, the overly bright sunlight shines in, mocking my splitting headache. Yesterday was a fucking train wreck, to put it mildly.

At some point, Cinderella will hear about me showing up and talking to her father if we end up hanging around the Charter for the barbecue and other get-togethers. Not looking forward to that shit storm.

The bathroom door swings open, my girl coming out with her belongings loaded up in her arms. She heads straight for her purse, dropping everything inside the oversized bag.

“Hey, baby.” It comes out sounding extra gruff, my voice a little raw from all the shouting yesterday.

Her fiery gaze meets mine, an eyebrow lifting as I scoot back to sit against the headboard. She ties my wife beater tank at her mid back, so it doesn’t swim on her small frame and messily twists her hair up, securing it with a pen from her purse. You’d think with how big the bag is that she’d carry a hair thing in it. Remaining silent, she picks up her cut off shorts from the floor, sliding them on and heads for her flip-flops.

“What’re you doing?” I rasp, feeling my forehead wrinkle as my head pounds.

She slips the other shoe on. “Exactly what it looks like. Leaving.”

Turning quickly, my feet hit the floor next to my pants. I pull my jeans on, leaving the button unclasped and head over to her so she can’t get outside without telling me what’s going on.

“You wanna be a little more specific?”

Last night everything seemed to be okay once she calmed down and fell asleep. I know my father scared her, but she’s a tough bitch. Besides that, I killed the fucker; she doesn’t have to worry about him coming back, ever again. I know my brother will leave her alone, so I don’t get why she’s upset.

Unless she’s pissed at her pops all over again? She’s clearly mad about something, as I tower over her, and she glares, probably wishing she could light my ass on fire.

“Nope, sure don’t.”

“All right, cut the bullshit, Cinderella. The fuck’s going on?”

“How should I know? My Ol’ Man.” She makes quotation marks in the air as she says Ol’ Man. “Doesn’t tell me anything. I’m just a good little woman, fucking him like I’m supposed to. Guess it makes me the stupid one for thinking we actually had something real.”

Pointing my finger close to her face, I warn, “First off, don’t you disrespect that title. You’ll get a lot of fucking respect you deserve to have from my name being the one attached to it. Second, I don’t have any idea what the hell you’re talking about. Last night I thought we were straight when you fell asleep. Unless something went down while I was passed out, then shit’s still real.”

Her gaze lands on the door, and she huffs, “I need to leave,” trying to shut me out.

“You can go once we settle this.”

“Oh, can I? That’s so kind of you. Biker or whoever, you’re not my boss and if I want to climb in my car and drive away, then I will.” Her stubborn eyes meet mine as she crosses her arms over her chest defiantly.

She’s so damn cute, wound up like this.

Smirking, I let out a cocky chuckle, “Baby, if I want you to stay somewhere, you will. You try getting in that car before I say it’s okay, and I’ll slit your fucking tires.”

“You’re infuriating. I’ll walk if I have to.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll be damned if my woman’s walking down that highway. I’ll tie you to the bed and eat that pussy until you beg me to let you stay.”

“You are pretty talented with that tongue; good to know you don’t only use it for lying.”

Her retort confuses me. Why would I lie? And about what?

It takes a few seconds until I realize why she’s so angry.

“You’re pissy ‘cause I didn’t tell you about my father.”

“You’re not just some Nomad for the Oath Keepers; you have your own freaking club!”

“You’re wrong. That’s not my fucking club. I haven’t been a Widow Maker in years, and I’ll never be again.”

Her hands fly up, drastically as she rolls her eyes, “And that name! A widow maker? Yeah, I’d definitely have that on my cut; it sure is something to brag about. I can’t believe you haven’t told me. Look at the danger you put me in. You kept your past from me, and it almost got me killed. You could have at least told me so I would’ve been on the lookout.”

“You were in the wrong situation, and I’m real sorry about that Princess, but you were never in any danger.”

“Look at my arms!” she exclaims, thrusting them out, showing off the ugly bruises my father gave her. “You haven’t even seen the cut between my boobs yet. Thank God it wasn’t deep!”

My hand goes to her heart, a little rougher than intended and her wide eyes meet mine. “You fuckin’ feel that?” Growling angrily, I put pressure on the top of her breast, driving her backward until she hits the wall. “That’s your goddamn heartbeat, thumping away. I came for you; I got there as fast as fucking possible, and I killed as many motherfuckers as I had to, to get to you. Don’t you tell me that you’re hurt unless you’re sure you absolutely fucking mean it.” And she’s wrong; I did see that cut.