Page 3 of Bones
I press the ignition, my bike growling to life beneath us and kick the stand up, both feet firmly on the cement. When Sloan doesn’t hold on any tighter, I roll my eyes. Brute’s already riding out of the garage. I grab her hands and yank her forward until I can press them against my stomach.
“I know you don’t want to lower yourself to touch a demon, but I can’t let you become roadkill. So I need you to actually hold the fuck on,” I growl back at her, loud enough so she hears me over the bike.
Sloan doesn’t say anything, but her hands curl as she gets a grip on my shirt.
As I grab the handlebars and press the throttle, I realize maybe Sloan had it right. Like this, even as stiff as she is, her thighs are hugging me tight and her chest is pressed against my back because of how much smaller than me she is.
Fuckity fuck.
I wanted to take a ride to calm that need all us Knights seem to have, to fill the craving for freedom. Instead, I’ve got a gorgeous woman on the back of my bike hugging me tight. A woman who is absolutely forbidden to me. An enemy. My prisoner.
It’d be great if my cock understood that.
2
SLOAN
Bones had it all wrong. I wasn’t hesitant to hold on to him because he was a demon. In fact, I’m more comfortable around all of the demons of the Knights of Hades motorcycle club than they realize. At least they don’t try to hide their nature behind pious, righteous veneers with perfect white smiles and gentle voices.
I didn’t want to touch him because it hurts too much. Something about him makes my skin feel alive in a way it hasn’t for years. He makes my heart beat faster, like it’s wanting to shake off the protective apathy I’ve wrapped myself in.
Bones should terrify me. I should want to rid the world of his demonic presence.
Maybe it’s because he’s so much bigger than me, in every way. I’m tall for a woman--a fault Father Xavius often chided me for, reminding me that a proper woman did not take up as much space. Bones makes me feel small, with my head barely reaching his chest even in the borrowed heels I’m wearing. He’s broader than even the strongest Brother I know of, but he looks lean compared to the other demons. Especially the one who goes byBrute and the other one, Heathen. They may look like humans, but their stature isn’t natural. Someone who had never heard of the supernatural would know that these men aren’t human.
It’s not just the fact that Bones could break me in half without a thought that should frighten me. Many of the other demons have tattoos, but none are as extensive as his. His entire face is tattooed so that whatever features he had are hidden by a macabre mask of a skull. Most of his face is white with harsh black creating the grim visage. Around his eyes, even his eyelids, are a deep black as is the lower half of his nose. A gruesome smile stretches from one temple down across his mouth, ending at the opposite, the black ink making the sharpened teeth stand out in stark relief. The white ink curls under his sharp square jaw, before being replaced with black once more. The effect makes it look like shadows are melting down his neck, like his head is a hellish bust.
His hands are tattooed in similar fashion, blacked out except for white bones along his fingers and the back of his hands.
Did he choose his name because of the tattoos or did he get the tattoos because of his name?
The justicars drilled enough demonology into me that I know Bones isn’t his real name.
A bounce under us has my musings disappearing like smoke in the wind. My mind was numb for most of the ride, it’s the only way I can handle being this close to him. The desert landscape became nothing more than a blur as Bones drove us down winding roads and twisting corners. I’d been lost enough in my own mind that I hadn’t realized we’d returned to town until he popped the curb in front of a building, pulling to stop in front of a solid wooden door.
I was here a few days ago, when the motorcycle club had a sort of wedding reception to celebrate the joining of Lacy and a demon, Cinder. I’d been in more of a fog than I am now, but I remember seeing the two smile at one another and wondering what it’d be like to experience their happiness. I still can’t even imagine it.
Bones taps the back of my hand and I let go of him with a jolt. I fling myself off of the bike, not waiting for him to help. Retreating a few steps, I stare at the dusty, cracked sidewalk as I fumble with the buckle under my chin. It’s like my fingers have become as numb as my heart.
I suck in a breath when scuffed leather boots and black denim clad legs fill my view and then Bones is knocking my hands away to take over. When we were on the bike, the wind had stolen away his scent. Now, in the still air of the desert, this close it almost chokes me. Sun warmed leather and warm autumnal scents that make me think of sunny days with orange, yellow, and red leaves falling all around me.
“It’s like you want to strangle yourself.” Bones’ deep timber rattles in my rib cage, his irritation tapering each word.
Stupid girl.I wrap my arms around my middle, letting my eyes go unfocused as his rough fingertips manage to loosen the straps after a sharp pinch and he pulls the helmet from me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d tightened the straps in my fumbling and shame rears its head, looking too similar to Father Xavius.
Useless girl. Only good for two things.
I grit my teeth, forcing the echoes of his voice into silence. He isn’t here. I’m not there, stuck in that compound, following him around like I might as well be on a leash.
Listen. Obey. Apologize. Exist.
“I’m sorry,” I offer, using the same tone I’d perfected at the compound. Respectful but meek. Not a hint of rebellion. “It won’t happen again.”
I wait, tension threatening to turn my muscles to stone. I stay loose, though, my head bowed submissively. Experience has taught me it’s better to stay loose in case he hits me.
Bones doesn’t say anything. He just grunts, making me flinch, and then he makes a sound of disgust. I press my lips into a thin line, trying not to provoke him any further.
He twists and sets the helmet on the leather seat of his bike, an intimidating black on black beast I’d never imagined ever seeing let alone riding.
