Page 12 of Brutal Reign (Shadowed Heirs #5)

12

PAST

T he breeze ruffles my hair as I peer out at the road over the handlebars of the motorcycle, the rubber grips chilly beneath my palms as I curl my fingers tighter around them. The leather seat under my ass is cold, but I’ll bet it isn’t when the engine’s running. It must feel incredible to have that much power roar to life between your legs– to have the world whiz past you as the wind slaps you in the face; to lean into turns at speed while defying death. To be wild and reckless just for the thrill of it.

Flexing my hands around the grips, my eyes slip closed as I picture myself doing exactly that. In my mind’s eye, I’m speeding along a forest road with the engine growling beneath me, adrenaline pulsing through my veins to the tune of AC/DC’s ‘Highway to Hell’.

The sound of approaching footsteps shuffling across the pavement pulls me from my fantasy, and I blink my eyes open to see River striding up the packhouse driveway, her hands shoved in the front pocket of her black hoodie and her beat-up Converse sneakers scuffing across the ground. Our eyes meet for a moment, then her gaze drops to the motorcycle beneath me, brow furrowing and head tilting in question.

“Hey, check it out,” I call, lifting my chin and trying to look half as cool as I feel right now sitting astride this machine. “Whatcha think?”

“Whose bike is that?” she asks, her curious gaze touring the curves of the motorcycle as she wanders closer.

I frown, irritated that the bike has garnered her attention rather than how badass I look perched on its seat. “Nash’s,” I bite out, tipping my head toward the packhouse. “He’s inside with my dad.”

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes, hazel eyes alight with admiration. They finally flicker up to mine again, and it’s like a punch to the gut. Damnit, I want her to look at me the way she just looked at this bike.

“As soon as I can drive, I’m getting one of these,” I declare with a lift of my chin.

She smiles softly, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Me too.”

“No need, you can ride on the back of mine,” I offer, lips peeling back in a smug grin. A new image starts to take life in my mind– one of me whipping around a curve on this motorcycle, River’s arms tightening around my waist as she whoops with excitement…

Her brows pinch together, her own visions clearly not aligning with my own. “What? No way!” River objects, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m gonna have one of my own.”

My gleeful expression falls. “But you’re a girl,” I deadpan.

“So?” she huffs.

“So, your mom rides with your dad.”

“Only because she likes to,” River counters, folding her arms across her chest. “My grandma had her own bike, drove it all the time.”

“But why would you want your own when you can just ride with me?” I press, growing increasingly frustrated by the dismantling of my fantasy. Why can’t she ever just fucking agree with me for once?

River licks her plush lips, eyes sparking with mischief. “Because then we can race,” she replies, waggling her brows.

Alright, that’s a solid point.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I mutter, planting my feet on the ground before swinging a leg over the seat to climb off. “I’ll probably have a hot ass girlfriend to ride on the back by then, anyways.”

“So now I’m just kicked off?” she scoffs, raising a brow.

“Hey, can’t say I didn’t offer it to you first.”

“Fine,” she concedes, her posture stiffening as I approach her. “Maybe I’ll get a boyfriend to ride on the back of mine, then.”

“Good luck with that,” I snicker.

Her lips twist in a scowl. “What, you don’t think I can get a boyfriend?”

“I don’t think any guy’s gonna wanna ride bitch on your bike,” I reply, reaching out to flick her on the forehead.

She swats my hand away with a scowl. “But it’s okay for ME to ride bitch?”

“You know what I mean,” I grumble.

“No, I don’t,” she huffs, glaring up at me defiantly. “Tell you what, Seb. When we both get our own bikes someday, we’ll race. And then the winner can decide who has to ride bitch.” She arches a brow as she extends a hand toward me to shake on the deal.

“Fine,” I agree, slapping my palm into hers without hesitation. I’ve got this in the bag– both of us are thrill-seekers, but River tends to get nervous in the face of danger.

Me? I laugh in it.

NOW

The thin white rolling paper crackles as it catches fire, a wispy plume of smoke curling in front of Ace’s face as he snaps his Zippo closed. He takes a long drag before passing the joint my way, and I lean back against the wall of the squad complex as I take it from his fingers and lift it to my lips, staring vacantly across the quiet parking lot.

We need to talk about River. I know it, he knows it, and both of us are avoiding actually doing it. Instead, neither of us are saying a fucking thing, and I can’t remember a time when silence between us ever felt so damn uncomfortable.

Ace won’t be the one to break it. He likes the quiet; says he didn’t get enough of it growing up because his dad couldn’t stand the sound of silence. He’s waiting for me, knowing I’ll eventually cave, but when I open my mouth to speak, I can’t force the words past my lips.

“Wonder whose bike that is,” I murmur absently as I puff on the end of the joint, eyeing the unfamiliar motorcycle parked up in the spot beside my own.

Ace shrugs a shoulder noncommittally. “Looks like it’s seen better days.”

“It’s in good shape for being ancient,” I muse as I exhale the smoke, my gaze sliding over the curves of the machine. I’ve never seen a vintage Indian motorcycle in person, but judging by the build, it’s a decades-old Chief. I had my eye on a similar, although newer, model before I sold out and bought myself a crotch rocket.

Ace clears his throat beside me in warning as the scuff of shoes against the pavement registers. I snap my head in the direction of the sound to see the very person we’ve been avoiding talking about striding around the building in our direction, dressed in ripped jeans and a beat-up leather jacket. River’s long dark hair is slicked back in a high ponytail, accentuating the harsh angles of her features, and those disarming hazel eyes meet mine for a fleeting second before dropping to the joint dangling between my fingers.

Wonder if she’ll run and tattle. I wouldn’t put it past her, considering how we left things last night. She seems determined to piss me off at every opportunity. Not like anyone would give a shit if she did tell, though– a little weed is the least of anyone’s worries around here.

My upper lip curls back from my teeth in a snarl as River draws closer, but unlike most others, it doesn’t scare her off. She meets my stare defiantly as I go to pass the joint over to Ace, intercepting it by snapping out a hand, taking it between her own fingers, and raising it to her lips.

“Since when do you smoke?” I growl, eyes dropping to track the way her full lips curve around the trunk.

She sucks in a shallow drag before handing it off to Ace, turning her head to blow the smoke right in my fucking face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, boys,” she purrs, her ponytail smacking me in the face as she pivots on a heel and steps down off the curb.

My hands curl into fists at my sides as I push away from the wall, ready to go the fuck off, but then River walks right up to that vintage Indian and plucks the helmet off the back, my brain short-circuiting. It feels like time moves in slow motion as I turn to meet Ace’s eyes. We exchange a look, and my stomach bottoms out.

Since when do we keep secrets from one another?

Ace is the one person I trust implicitly. He’s always watching– while I bask in the spotlight, he thrives in the shadows– so there’s no way in hell he didn’t know that bike belongs to her. The realization that he chose to conceal it only highlights my own unease over not telling him about what happened in the locker room last night, and suddenly, it feels as though everything I thought I knew is slowly starting to crumble down around me.

Ace and I are a rock-solid team, but River Jacobsen is the wrecking ball that threatens to demolish it all.

“Do you even know how to ride that thing?” I sneer, aiming my anger in her direction as she swings a leg over the motorcycle and settles onto the seat.

“Duh,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes as she plonks the helmet onto her head.

I stride toward her, jaw locked and shoulders bunched tight. “Where’d you get it?”

“Family heirloom,” she replies flippantly.

“Does it even run?”

She glances over at my crotch rocket with a smirk. “A lot better than yours, I’ll bet. How many times have you sloughed off maintenance and blown up the engine?”

The vein in my neck throbs as I clench my jaw tighter, hating the way this girl has always been able to call me on my shit. “Care to test that theory?” I challenge, my voice a low growl. “C’mon, I’ll race ya.”

River rolls her eyes, dismissing me with a wave as she turns at the waist and starts up her bike.

“Dare you!” I call out over the roar of the engine, and I know she hears me because her spine goes rigid.

“C’mon, Seb, we just toked,” Ace sighs, knowing full well that with how wound up I am, this’ll only end badly.

“I had one hit, you know as well as I do that a single hit doesn’t do fuck all to shifters,” I growl back at him, my eyes still on River’s back. “Well?” I call out to her.

She slowly turns to look back at me over her shoulder, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Fine.”

“Fuck,” Ace mutters under his breath, but there’s nothing he can do to stop this from happening now. I’ve never backed down from a challenge in my fucking life, and I can’t wait for River to eat her words when I wipe the floor with her.

A heady spike of adrenaline spears through me, excitement pulsing through my veins as I jog over to my bike and throw a leg over the seat. By the time I’ve pulled my helmet on and started it up, River’s already backing out of the parking spot, no doubt trying to give herself a head start. She’ll need it. My Kawasaki tops out at speeds she probably can’t even fathom, and I’ve only blown the engine once by trying to exceed it, thank you very much .

River peels out of the parking lot, and my wolf pushes forward the moment I shove off after her. Speeding through the forest on a motorcycle is a lot like shifting to my animal form– the rush I get is similar, and it seems to satisfy my wolf in the same way a run does. Maybe even more. He’s coiled with just as much anticipation as I am when I pull in the clutch and release the throttle, gaining speed on River as she pulls onto the main street, then predictably veers onto the road that leads up to Pine Mountain.

I’ve driven it before. River used to talk it up, boasting about motorcycle rides she took with her dad, so as soon as I got my own bike, Pine Mountain was one of my first destinations. The road up is narrow and winding, but I’ve driven it enough times that I’m familiar with the blueprint. I know when to accelerate, when to ready myself to lean into the curves. The steep drop-offs don’t make me nervous; they excite me.

I didn’t fully anticipate how well River would know this road, though. She flies around the turns ahead of me, handling her bike effortlessly. Based on the specs of our motorcycles alone, she shouldn’t even be a contender in this race, but she manages to keep ahead of me despite my best efforts.

I can’t let her win.

The final curve before the peak is the riskiest, the road clinging to a cliffside so narrow that it’s unfathomable to try to pass her on it. So naturally, that’s exactly what I do. She yells out to me as I hit the throttle, my tires gripping the pavement as I swing out in an effort to skirt around her. The last thing I see before she hits the brakes and eats my dust is the panicked look in her hazel eyes, and less than a minute later, the road bottoms out at the crest of Pine Mountain and I’m basking in my victory.

River pulls in right behind me, skidding to a stop as I remove my helmet and ease off the seat of my bike, a shit-eating grin plastered across my face. She hops off her own motorcycle, and a laugh tumbles from my chest as she yanks her helmet off and stomps in my direction.

“What the fuck, Seb?!” she snarls, hurling the helmet toward me.

I dodge out of the way, still laughing while I bask in the taste of sweet, sweet victory. “What? Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Sore loser?” she repeats, huffing and puffing as she closes the distance between us. “You could’ve fucking killed us, you maniac!” She slaps her palms against my chest, shoving me back a step.

“Calm down,” I laugh, stumbling as she comes at me again and shoves me even harder.

“What the hell is your damage? Do you have a fucking death wish?!”

“Maybe,” I smirk.

She winds up to shove me again, but I snatch her wrists before she gets a chance, knocking her off balance and sending her tumbling into me. She jerks her chin up as our chests collide, meeting my eyes, and fuck, I must actually have a death wish, because what I do next is suicide.

I dive down, closing the distance between our mouths and slamming my lips against hers. Sparks explode between us on impact, the taste of her strawberry chapstick gliding over my tongue as I tease the seam of those sinfully pouty lips, groaning at the sensation of pure ecstasy coursing through my veins. It’s a stolen kiss, but for a second, I swear she lets me play the thief. Her head tilts, her lips part, and then she’s twisting her wrists out of my grip, shoving me away with a feral snarl.

“What the fuck?” she chokes, dark lashes fluttering as she blinks at me in bewilderment.

I’m not thinking straight– not thinking at all – but one taste isn’t enough. I retake the distance she put between us in a single stride, sweeping an arm around her waist, pulling her in, and kissing her again.

This time, I know she lets me. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, not pushing me away, but pulling me closer. Her lips part in invitation, and I plunge my tongue into her mouth, tasting every corner of it. Her head tilts to allow me to deepen the kiss, and I take full advantage, my entire body thrumming with carnal excitement that I feel all the way down to the tips of my toes.

River fucking Jacobsen.

The girl I always, always wanted, but could never have.

She’s not gentle or demure or anything like I fucking expected. She meets my blaze with an inferno of her own, so much heat burning between us that it’s a wonder we both don’t catch fire. Then, as quickly as it started, she shoves me off again, blinking in bewilderment as she wipes saliva from the corner of her mouth with a thumb.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she pants, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed.

Reality comes crashing down on me with the force of a tidal wave.

What the fuck have I done?

“ My problem?” I scoff, lifting my chin arrogantly. “You’re the one who came at me.”

Her mouth falls open at my audacity. “Not so you could shove your tongue down my throat!” she shouts, practically vibrating with anger.

I roll my eyes, making a scoffing sound in my throat. “What’s wrong, Riv?” I ask, wetting my lips with my tongue as I arch a brow. “I thought you weren’t a prude anymore?”

She snaps her mouth shut, something painfully familiar flashing in her eyes. I wish I could say I’ve never seen that look before, but the fact that I have is just proof that I never learn my fucking lesson; that I’m the worst kind of asshole there is.

Goddamnit.

River sucks in a sharp breath, whipping around and stomping over to where her helmet’s resting on the ground. She stoops to scoop it up, and she doesn’t say a word as she yanks it down over her head and returns to her bike, mounting it. I don’t say anything either. I should , but I don’t.

Because my mouth always moves faster than my brain, and I’ve already fucked up epically enough.

Because I have no idea how I’m gonna come back from this.

But mostly, because there’s nothing left to say.