Page 91 of Caution to the Wind

I was in Entrance to pay penance for the ways I’d done the Axelsens wrong eight years ago. Staying in this ridiculously awful place was only appropriate.

Besides, it offered a quick getaway on the highway and an easy trip down to Vancouver if I was called home for some reason.

After Axe-Man practically banned me from frequenting any reputable place in town and the whole headless raccoon debacle, I’d popped in to give Cleo her sandwich and a kiss, leaving that huge, silent bear of a brother, Kodiak, to take her to her rehab appointments at the hospital so I could see to some shit back in Vancouver, including a visit with Old Dragon.

It was late when I finally dragged myself back to the motel, the wind drawing cold claw marks across my face and through my hair as I slumped up the steps to the second story. I was exhausted in a way I hadn’t been able to shake since Cleo called me from the hospital. It was the weight of guilt, I knew. That I hadn’t been with her, not only to save her that day from the psychopathic killer but that I hadn’t been there before that to lead her down a different, less desperate path. Maybe it was egotistical to think I could have made that difference…she had the best dad in the world, Lin, a new best friend who wore pink unironically, and an entire motorcycle club taking her back. What difference would I have made, really?

What difference did I ever make, other than to ruin nearly everything I touched despite my best intentions?

Daiyu used to say I didn’t know how to do anything gently. My love was violent. I threw my heart against unsuspecting acquaintances, trampled on it myself before they could pick it up off the ground, and when I stuck it back in my chest, torn, dirty, beating a little less madly than before, I didn’t even bother to wipe it off. It was a reckless, dangerous kind of love that hurt those I tried to care for as much as it hurt me.

It seemed like so many Chinese folklore tales Old Dragon had grown up telling me, the tragedy of the Butterfly Lovers and the Legend of the White Snake, like even Madame Cheung had told me in the red tent that night at the carnival, I was doomed to love and live alone. It didn’t seem to matter if the love I had to give was platonic or romantic. I clearly wasn’t a good influence.

I was brooding on this when I opened the door to my room, so I wasn’t paying attention like I normally would have.

Which was why, when a large figure moved in my periphery, I reacted the way I’d been trained to my whole life.

With violence.

It was dark in the room. The intruder hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights to better surprise me, but I could tell at a glance that he was huge, at least double my size. When he reached for me, I grabbed his arm and spun into his body, curling my spine slightly as I tucked up against him. Position secured, I leveraged his momentum to toss his weight up and over my back. He went crashing onto the closest bed, his legs thwacking into the wall, a booted foot going straight through the plaster wall.

But he had hold of my arm still, a fierce grasp I couldn’t disengage from. When I tried to wrench away, he took advantage of my lack of balance to tug me closer, rolling onto his shoulders to wrap strong thighs around my torso and throw me over his prone form on to the bed between his legs. I landed badly, my shoulder cracking against the pink-painted wood headboard.

Instantly, I tried to get to my feet, but he moved fast for such a big man, twisting onto his front to pin me to the bed with his thighs, two rough palms shackling my wrists.

I was about to headbutt him when he finally spoke. “Is this the way you greet everyone that comes knockin’ nowadays?”

“Henning?” I gasped, because the man above me was big enough, but his hair was dark and short.

He made a chuffing noise like an irritated bear, transferring one of my wrists into his other hand so they were both pinned in one palm before he reached to flick on the horrible frilly pink lamp beside us.

The rosy light illuminated his craggy face, and a black toque embroidered with The Fallen MC patch pulled down low over his forehead.

“Ah,” I said. “If you want an apology, you’ll be waiting a while. I’m not sure what kind of girls you hang out with these days, but theusualkind of girl will do exactly what I just did when she finds an enormous slab of strange man meat in her room uninvited.”

“Nothin’ about you is or ever has been usual,” he countered.

He was so close, his body pressed all along mine. Thick thighs as unforgiving as steel bracketing my hips, a huge hand easily clasping my wrists, the other braced in the pillow beside my head. It was meant to be a threatening position, but now that I knew it washim, it was dangerously sexy. A few inches south and he could rock his cock against my groin, zipper to zipper, the friction delicious. A few inches north and he’d be sitting on my chest in perfect position to feed his cock into my greedy––now drooling––mouth.

When I wrenched my gaze from his groin back up to his face, his bright eyes were locked on my mouth. I held my breath as he slowly raised his hand from the flat pillow and unhooked my lower lip from my teeth. The pad of his thumb came away with a streak of blood, and we both watched, transfixed, as he started to bring it to his mouth as if to lick it away.

Unbidden, a little breathy groan escaped my lips, and just like that, the moment was punctured.

Axe-Man practically leapt off me, moving to the other side of the room to lean mock-casually against the dresser holding the TV. He crossed his arms and stared at me as if I’d invited him over myself, and he hadn’t just shown up like a total creeper in my room.

“You’re being very creepy,” I informed him, in case he was unaware.

For a second, his frown faded into blank shock, and then his lips twitched.

Just for a second.

But it was basically a smile.

Or as close to one as I’d gotten in eight years, and I’d probably ever get again.

It was almost absurd how victorious I felt seeing that like I’d won gold at the Olympics or a Nobel Peace Prize.

And honestly, given the hostility between us, I thought I might’ve deserved one.