Sever (Deathstalkers MC Book 6) Page 5

  Please, please, please.

  The winning bell sounds, I look up to see the light flashing above me. I jump up, launching into a victory dance to end all victory dances, then look over at Ryder. “You’re gonna look so pretty,” I say, hands clutched under my chin, my eyes widen. He scowls at me and I laugh. “One of the pink glitter boas, please.”

  The guy hands it to me and I wrap it around Ryder’s neck, the cheap feathers tickling my hands and making my nose tingle. I stand back and survey my masterpiece. “If only I had a camera on me.”

  Ryder’s eyes darken. “You're gonna pay for this one.”

  He lunges toward me and I run. I’ve never been a fast runner so it doesn’t take him long to catch me, his hands wrapping around my waist, knocking me to the ground and tickling me until all the breath is squeezed from my lungs. I try to wriggle away from him but it's no use. He’s just too strong.

  I’m about to pass out when his hands fall away and I stagger to my feet, trying to catch my breath.

  I turn to look at him and the insult I had dies on my lips. His blue eyes bore into me and I’m frozen. His hand reaches up, pulling my neck toward him before our lips touch.

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for his lips to be this soft. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me closer, and when I feel his tongue press at the seam of my lips, I open my mouth. His tongue slowly eases into my mouth. I’ve never been kissed like this and I let him take the lead, trying to mimic his movements.

  As we pull away, fireworks start to go off in the next field and he turns me in his arms, pulling my back to his front, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, holding me close as the colors dance across the night sky.

  I don’t think I could have asked for a more perfect night.

  Chapter Ten

  Megan

  Connor has texted me a couple of times since our date, but I keep blowing him off. The date came to rather an abrupt end when I told him I was sick and had him take me home. After seeing that picture and feeling my stomach roll at the memories, it wasn’t even that much of a lie.

  With every memory that he forces in front of me, I’m pulled deeper and deeper under his spell, and I’m worried that, maybe soon, I won’t remember who I am without him. He consumes me. For every space he didn’t fill, now he’s there; in the morning when I fill up my coffee and remember how he takes his, to pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose and remembering his good-natured teasing about how I made a “cute” geek. I’m struggling to think an independent thought. And that scares me.

  It was wrong of me to go out with Connor. He deserves better than to be strung along, but that’s exactly what I’ve done. There can’t be anything between us.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  The gravel crunches under my feet. It’s getting easier to navigate now that I spend most days here. I hope Ryder is out on club business today. His absence makes it a lot easier to concentrate. I sometimes see him watching me through the window and I pretend to type, all the while panicking that he might come in and see a nearly blank screen, red squiggles under the non-words I’ve typed.

  I step inside the office to find Ryder sitting on my desk, his eyes finding mine as soon as I look up.

  “What are you doing in here?” I toss my purse onto my chair.

  “Just checking in on everything.” He smirks at me before standing up and stepping to the side to make room for me.

  “I don't need you checking in on me. In fact, my life would be a whole lot easier if you'd just keep your distance and let me work.” My hands are shaking so I cross my arms over my chest and hide them under my armpits. His blue eyes study me and I squirm under his gaze.

  “I mean it. Get out.” I point at the door, chin held high, not moving my eyes from his. It’s so hard to stand firm but I have to. I can’t be that person again.

  “My, haven’t we grown a backbone.” He steps toward me. I want to retreat but in this small space I have few options. “Just so you know, I have no intention of making your life any easier, princess.”

  He shoots me a wink before he turns around and leaves, taking all the air in the room with him.

  “Ugh!” I flop into my chair, try to calm down, leaning across to switch on the computer, watching the screen come to life as my breathing slowly returns to normal. Would it be too much to hope that he’ll leave me alone for the rest of the day?

  My gut says yes.

  It's been a week since he came back into my life. One week, and each day is harder than the one before it. Judging by what little I’ve managed to get through so far, I can’t see this project being completed in anything less than a few months. I honestly don't know how I'll survive.

  The door opens and a pretty girl with dark hair walks in. “Cutter told me to come down here and see if you needed any help. I used to work at the club with him.” She offers me a smile and a hand. “I’m Jaz.”

  “Megan, and that would be great.”

  “Just tell me what you need done.” She pulls a chair over and sits down across from me and the two of us start to tackle the piles on my desk. As I'm talking to her I find out that she and Cutter are together, which puts my mind at ease because with her boyfriend so involved, at least I know she can be trusted to keep the fact that what I'm doing is far from legal to herself.

  “So what’s your deal?” She asks the question, but her eyes are on the papers in front of her. The casual way in which she asks makes me think she’s just being polite, but the teenage girl in me knows that this is much more.

  I pause for a minute, not knowing how much or little I should say. “I work for the firm that the club hired, but I know one of the brothers from high school.”

  “Really?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “We dated in high school, but he was a year ahead of me and when he left I never saw him again. Well, until about a week ago.” The story sounds so simple, but really it's anything but. Telling her the whole story is out of the question, though. Not only would that mean reliving one of the most traumatic and humiliating times of my life, but doing it with him so close by . . .

  I don’t know that I could hold it together.

  “Who?”

  I look up, brought back by her question. “Ryder.” I say his name but I can tell she has no idea who I'm talking about. Crap, what did he say his name was here? Cracker? Trapper? “Tracker.”

  She nods. “One of the new guys. I don’t know them well, but they seem all right.” She smiles and continues organizing the stack of papers in front of her.

  We work together for the rest of the day and when I look over at the clock I realize it’s time for me to leave. I pack away my things and shrug on my jacket, turning to see Jaz stacking the files neatly to one side. “Thanks for all your help today. I really appreciate it, and it was nice to have someone to talk to.”

  I grab my purse and head out to my car. The air leaves my body when I see Ryder leaning against it.

  I was so close to making it out unscathed.

  So close.

  “Can I help you?”

  “You sure you want to ask that question?” He cocks an eyebrow and the all too familiar gesture stirs something inside me.

  “What do you want?” I ask as my irritation with his games is growing. He left me, but now he wants to make nice and play games like nothing happened? Like he didn’t break my heart and throw away the pieces?

  “You.” He pushes off the car, and comes toward me.

  I freeze. What did he just say?

  “Oh no. No way in hell are we going there.” I sidestep him, giving him the wide berth he deserves. I sift through my bag looking for my keys, pulling them out and dropping them not once but twice as I try to unlock the car so I can get the hell out of here.

  “You say that now.”

  “I’ll say it every damn time, Ryder.” I open my car door and get in, but when I try to close it, I meet resistance. I look up, seeing his fingers curled ar
ound the frame. He yanks it open further and holds it open with his hip. He drops his face until it’s only a few inches from mine.

  “Look at me, right now. Tell me you don't fucking feel this and I'll walk away.”

  I look him square in the face, mustering all the strength I have, which isn’t much, as I say, “I don’t feel it.”

  Lie.

  Lie.

  Lie.

  I shove him back and slam the door, seeing the dust in my rearview mirror as I peel out of the parking lot. The drive back home is a blur. All I can think of is Ryder, the way he looked at me, the way I feel whenever he is close to me. Every time I close my eyes I see his face.

  I throw the door open and the handle hits the wall, leaving a nice round dent in the Gyprock. Chrissy looks up at me, wide-eyed. “Shit, what happened?”

  I just shake my head heading right for the kitchen, taking down a glass and pouring myself a glass of wine. Chrissy follows but when a knock sounds at the door, she turns on her heel and I down half the glass in one go.

  Though his face is distorted through the glass, I nearly choke when I see Ryder walk into the kitchen.

  Ryder.

  In my kitchen.

  “What the hell are you—?”

  He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him, his lips coming down on mine, taking me by surprise. As much as I want to fight him I don’t. The minute we touch, all of the nerves in my body calm and I relax into him like it’s where I was always supposed to be.

  The sweet kiss quickly catches fire as his tongue slips into my mouth, my hands fisting in the T-shirt he’s wearing, clutching him tight, like he might disappear at any time.

  When he pulls away, the two of us are panting like we just ran a mile. His fingers grip my chin, turning my head to the side. I feel his tongue touch the skin on the side of my mouth and my core tightens.

  “That wine is almost as sweet as you, princess.” He smiles, before pressing his lips to mine again. “Almost.”

  He lets go of me and my hands grab the counter, my fingers biting into the laminate while I wait for the feeling to return to my legs. In the distance, the front door slams closed and I let out the breath that’s been burning my lungs and drop my head back, eyes to the ceiling.

  “I’m totally screwed.”

  Chrissy laughs, and my eyes find hers across the kitchen. She’s leaning against the doorjamb, a smug look on her face. “If he has his way, you definitely will be.”

  I shoot her a look before grabbing the bottle of wine and taking another large swig. Then another, my lips tingling with the absence of his.

  Damn him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Megan

  Saturdays mean a whole two days without me having to see Ryder, and that break could not have come at a better time. Having him come in here last night has really thrown me. A part of me wants to let him in again, to see if this is something that can really happen between us.

  The other part thinks I’m a goddamn idiot.

  I follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee down the hall and into the kitchen.

  “Surprised to see you up already.”

  I nod at Chrissy, earning a stabbing pain in my head from the bottle of wine I killed last night. I grab the Tylenol and pop some, hoping it works quickly. I launch right into it, not having the headspace for any kind of verbal filter. “I don’t know what to do. Not seeing him isn’t an option. I have to work with him. Every time I think about going there again, the fear is overwhelming.”

  She pours another cup and hands it to me. “You can’t let fear dictate your life. If this is something you want, then maybe you need to give it a shot. You aren’t the same person you were back then. Maybe he isn’t, either.”

  I drop my head into my hands. “He isn’t, he’s much more dangerous. Not only is he in this club that deals with all kinds of illegal stuff, but I already know how it feels to lose him. Going there would mean opening myself up to be crushed again, and that’s just something I can’t do, Chris.” I bite my lip, confusion and frustration making it hard for me to see any way forward.

  “You’re assuming it won’t work.” We walk into the living room, sitting down on the couch. “What if it does?”

  My hands tighten around my cup. “Then I might finally get what I wanted all those years ago. The only thing is, I don't know that he's still the person I wanted. Like you just said, time changes people. We might be completely incompatible now.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, what I saw last night was two completely incompatible people.”

  “Shut up.” I narrow my eyes and she holds her hands up.

  “I’m just saying that he didn’t look like he’d be taking no for an answer anytime soon.”

  My phone buzzes and I reach over, groaning when I see who it’s from.

  Ryder: I want to see you today.

  I saved his number after the first text. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m ever going to call him. It does remove that element of surprise, though, so when I see his name I can mentally prepare myself.

  I decide to not answer. I need time and space to figure out what I want. I know Chrissy wants me to look at it simply; if I want him, then be with him.

  It isn't that cut and dry, though.

  The sound of her cup hitting the coffee table startles me. “Okay, how about girls’ day? Hair, nails, shopping, the works.”

  Another tick in the best friend box. Chrissy always knows just how to cheer me up. I swear I don’t know where I’d be without her. And who knows, maybe not thinking about Ryder for a whole day might make making a decision easier.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I head into my room to get changed and when my phone buzzes from the nightstand, I ignore it. I slip on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt then walk out into the living room, leaving my still-buzzing phone on the bed.

  “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Our first stop is the salon. There is something to be said for a trim and a manicure. I always feel nicer when my hands are pretty. I’ve been so busy with my career that I haven’t pampered myself much. Not that it’s a regular thing, anyway. Growing up with very little has made me very careful with my money. Treats are few and far between, but all the more appreciated because of it.

  The salon is followed by stops at a ton of different stores. I really don’t need anything so I don’t buy much. Chrissy, however, seems to “need” something in pretty much every store we go in to. I just follow blindly.

  That is, until she ducks inside a lingerie store.

  “Why did we come in here?” I whisper, aware of just how quiet it is, and also of the sales assistant, whose eagle eyes are tracking us.

  “So you can spice up your grandma underwear and bras. If you're gonna be showing them off they need to be cute.” She winks at me, lifting up something that can only be described as a scrap of material before shaking her head, putting it back, taking my hand and pulling me deeper into the store.

  “Stop. I don’t plan on showing anything off for anyone.”

  “Yeah, and you didn't plan on your mouth being molested last night, but that shit sure happened. Besides, I’ve seen you do laundry. You need an update.”

  She pulls me over to a table full of silk and lace and I pick up a lavender bra. It’s gorgeous and the silk feels like butter under my fingers. Then I turn over the tag and nearly die. “I can’t afford this stuff,” I hiss, looking around for the sales assistant.

  Ah, there she is. Pretending to rearrange items on the table next to us.

  “Please, yes you can. You got a raise with the new assignment, and you’re probably the cheapest person I have ever met. Loosen up the dusty purse strings and live a little, won’t you?” She nudges me.

  I wince, rubbing at the spot on my rib where her elbow connected. “Fine. You win.”

  She rolls her eyes and thrusts a pile of material into my arms. “As always.”

  After an hour, I walk out of
the store with a shopping bag full of underwear, and a lot less in my bank account.

  “Megan!”

  I turn to see Jaz and a few other girls walking toward us.

  I stop, nudging Chrissy and moving to the side, out of the way of the crowds. “Hey, Jaz, this is my friend Chrissy. Chrissy, this is Jaz. We met at the clubhouse.”

  Jaz and Chrissy say hello, and then Jaz turns to the girls with her, all of them wearing very distinct leather jackets. I’ve seen these around the club, but I’m still not sure what they mean. Are they a fashion statement, or . . .

  “This is Lucy, Izzy, and Nikki. They are all with brothers, too.” I give a nod to all of them. “We were just about to head to lunch. Do you guys want to join us?”

  I look over at Chrissy, who nods emphatically. “Oh definitely. Maybe you girls can hook me up with a single piece of leather-covered ass.”

  The girls all laugh and we follow them down the street to the restaurant.

  As soon as our orders are in, Chrissy leans over the table. “So spill. You guys are all wearing the jackets that say you’re a part of the club, what’s it like?”

  Lucy laughs. “Technically we aren’t part of the club. These are called property jackets. You get them once a brother claims you. It lets everyone know that you’re off-limits.” She looks over at me. “Did Tracker say anything about getting you one?”

  I’m confused. “Getting me a what?”

  “A property jacket. Now that he’s claimed you, that's the next step.”

  My eyes widen. “He did what?”

  The girls all look at each other, as confused as I am.

  “He didn’t say anything to you about getting claimed?” Nikki asks, but I can't even respond verbally. It’s all I can manage to shake my head.

  “Damn men. You know anything about what this means?”

  Another shake of my head.

  “Lord.” She leans forward, elbows on the table, sizeable breasts resting on top of her hands as she explains. “This means you’re his. As in, you belong to him. No one can touch you. In fact, a guy is caught so much as looking at you the wrong way, unless they’re a fast talker, they’re in deep shit. That goes for brothers or anyone outside of the club.”