Page 6 of Bleed (Two Wheeled Psychos #4)

Maybe I should buy some other transportation besides Luna…Nah.

Riding home, covered in blood with a woody, on a motorcycle isn’t the best idea.

Anyone can see me, that is if I go slow enough.

Only problem is that the faster I go, the more I hit potholes and smash my dick up against the gas tank.

It’s a small price to pay though for having my girl between my thighs screaming out the rest of the emotions in me that the blade didn’t take away.

I need to clean myself up and get to bed, morning comes quickly when you get up at the ass crack of dawn.

Besides the work at the restaurant, I need to start my project of finding the Recluse.

Maybe taking out a female target that’s such a challenge will be the way I fix my brain once and for all. I can hope at least, right?

Do I want to be fixed though?

I give no attention to being quiet when I pull into the garage and put the bike in her spot, then trudge to the elevator and down the plain hall to my apartment.

It’s late, no one is awake, or at least I hope so.

No one will see me walking through the hallway covered in the crimson stains that are already drying to a deep brown on my hands and clothes.

If they do happen to look out their peepholes as I move on by, oh well, they can suck a dick.

The shower is quick and uneventful. There’s no jerking off, just a scrub down and a mental willing for my cock to go down on its own.

The water doesn’t even heat all the way before I crank it off and half ass dry myself off with a hand towel from the bar on the wall, not even bothering to open the cabinet and grab a full sized one.

Bed feels like heaven as I crawl into it, the soft sheets cocooning me like a chrysalis.

My pillow forms around my head as I lay down on my back and stare up at the off-white ceiling and the fake oak fan that twirls slowly above.

A good night’s sleep should morph me back into my “normal” self, and the circular motion of the brown blades lulls me into an almost hypnotic state before my eyes fall closed and the darkness overtakes me.

“Damien. I love you.” Dani whispers in my ear as she wraps her slender arms around my neck and I grind myself against her.

Her soft thighs hold onto me, and I drive my cock into her slowly, yet deeply. She’s stunning under me, with her dark brown hair fanned out across my pillow, and her crystal blue eyes fluttering in ecstasy.

“I love you too.” I say back to her just before I take her hot mouth in a deep, slow, soul sucking kiss.

She opens for me, her tongue twirling around mine, her breath filling my mouth.

I swallow down the little mewls of pleasure that escape her, and I return them to her, moaning out my pleasure as I rotate my hips.

It’s the most divine feeling being buried inside of her wet heat, taking her, and making her mine.

Cupping my hands around her head, I pull her down onto me more as I thrust up, filling her, pumping into her harder and faster. My heart races and my back arches as the cum bursts out of me and into her.

“Oh fuck yes.” I grunt, looking down at her, expecting to see her in bliss.

She’s not. She’s still as a statue looking up at me, her eyebrows furrowed over those blue eyes. Her mouth is stoic and the scar on her chin is motionless.

“No.” She says, and disappears from under me, making me fall to the bed alone, sweaty, panting, and panicked.

“Dani?” I call out, looking around the room. “Dani?” I repeat to a silent room. “Dani!? No, no, no, no, no! Don’t go!”

The room is dark as I jolt upright in my bed, her name still on my lips, the taste of her still in my mouth.

“No. Dani?” I cry out quietly, grabbing my face, burying it in my hands. “Fuck.”

She’s gone, no explanation, no reason, just gone, and now even in my dreams she’s left me alone, in the dark, wondering why.

“Motherfucker.” I grunt, throwing myself back down onto my pillow, slamming the back of my head on the headboard in the process and not caring about the pain that streaks across my skull.

~~~

The kitchen at Valentino’s is still dark when I come in and turn off the alarm system with my private passcode.

It’s quiet and peaceful, completely the opposite of how I feel inside.

The rest of the night and early morning were shit as I tossed and turned, not getting comfortable again, and not sleeping more than a couple minutes at a time.

Every time I fell back to sleep I was alone in my bed calling out for her again.

The sun rises and begins to shine in the coming dawn through the windows as I chop, slice, and mince items for the day’s menu.

I’m lost in it, trying to quiet the shitstorm in my head as the rest of the crew arrives and takes their places.

They begin their work with a solemness, and I deduce that they can feel the crap radiating off me and they’re playing it smart to behave themselves.

The breakfast and lunch rushes go quickly while I’m pounding out one dish after another. I don’t even go out to the dining room to make my rounds like usual, and by the time I’m prepping for the dinner line, Valentino pops into the kitchen.

“Dude, you gonna be a hermit all day?” He asks, coming to the opposite side of the island from me, standing there with his knuckles on his hips like a scolding mother.

“Meh.”

“Just meh? You cool dude?”

“Nope.” I say, the single word ending the conversation as he shakes his head and walks away muttering about how difficult I can be, but how I’m worth it.

His complaint makes me chuckle a little under my breath as I toss the terry towel off my shoulder and rip off my apron.

“I’m going out for a smoke.” I tell no one in particular in the kitchen, already on my way out the swinging saloon doors to the dining room.

The front of the house is loud and busy, but I don’t stop to talk to the family, or any other patrons.

I simply head out the front doors and lean against the brick and stone facade with a heavy sigh.

The air is warm but again laced with the crisper scents of autumn, and I take a deep breath of it in along with the minty smoke from my cigarette.

Leaves blow around my feet, making little scraping sounds as they travel over the sidewalk before they swirl away in the breeze.

It’s actually perfect weather for a bike ride, and I close my eyes, imagining riding my Luna.

Even though I ride her every day, I miss her when I’m here and unable to just go out and be with her when I want.

I’m relaxing the longer I let the sun pelt down on my face, making me see the vessels in my eyelids from he brightness filtering through them.

I can feel my muscles lose their tenseness and my breaths become more shallow and easier.

The heat from my cancer stick singes my fingers as it burns down in my hand, untouched since the first drag.

Opening my eyes, I chuck it on the ground, stomp it out with my clogged foot and light another.

Looking over the flickering flame and my hand cupped around it, I scan up and down the block, smiling as I watch the garbage truck pull out from behind the building, most likely taking away the evidence of my crime from last night.

From the corner of my eye, someone catches my attention walking down the opposite sidewalk.

She has long flaxen hair that sticks out from under a little crochet cap, shimmering like gold in the sunlight, and a very shapely figure with an ample chest, narrow waist, and perfect thighs.

As she walks briskly through the leaves that scuttle around her booted feet, her little pleated skirt comes precariously close to fluttering up in the wind.

A stack of books is clutched tightly to her chest, holding closed a cream-colored cardigan.

She’s boho chic, and stunning, and somehow… familiar.

“Who are you?” I say quietly, blowing out the smoke in a big cloud that almost obscures my view.

I’m barely stepping off the curb when she disappears into the front door of the little café catty-cornered from the restaurant, my view of her gone as fast as it appeared.

A car horn honks as I trot across the street, chucking my barely smoked cigarette into the gutter, ignoring the fact that it’s a fire hazard this time of year. I need to see who she is, to see her face. The feeling that she is who I think she is has me weak in the knees.

“Dani?” I whisper under my breath, plastering my face to the coffee shop’s front window, watching the woman go to the back corner and slide into a booth with her back to me.

Her face is away from me, her hair is a different color, and she’s thinner than I remember, but I just know in my guts that it’s her. I can feel it.

A little gold bell above the door chimes its tinkling little song as I grab the handle and whip it open.

Warm scents of coffee and pastries hit me in the face as I step inside, ignoring the cute little “Good afternoon” greeting called out by the barista behind the counter.

I weave through the tables and chairs in the front of the place and make my way towards the back where booths line the left side wall across from the long counter where you pick up your order.

There’s soft music playing, but it’s drowned out by the chatter of the guests and the clacking of fingers on laptops, but I still hear her voice as she answers her cell phone.

My feet become cement blocks, and I can’t get any closer as I hear her say the words that I recognize in that voice, and they gut me.

“I love you. I’ll see you later.” She says, then disconnects the device, setting it down on the table.

“Dani?” I whisper, still frozen in place, her back still to me.

No. There’s no way that it’s her. It’s my damned imagination. It can’t be. She’s gone.

Hanging my head, I turn and walk away, my feet feeling like they weigh a thousand pounds, and my heart feeling even heavier. I know I should face her, to find out for sure, but something in me won’t let me because if it is her, then I know she was never meant for me. She loves someone else.

Ignoring everything around me, I trudge out the door, growling under my breath at the cheeriness of the little bell that announces my departure, but not like anyone cares. I’m a ghost, a being that exists but doesn’t.