Page 12 of Creep (Vulture Hollow MC #2)

Creep

Socially awkward.

He thinks I’m socially awkward .

So what if he’s right? The fact that he sees me that way stabs me every time I replay the conversation in my head. Not only was I gullible enough to believe the lie about his heart condition, I’m also socially awkward .

So I made myself scarce, because what’s the point of torturing him with my unwanted presence?

That of course doesn’t mean I’m able to stay away. I’ve been tailing him for three days to make sure he doesn’t get in trouble. Or just because I’m an obsessed creep, I don’t even know myself at this point.

When I fall asleep, he’s under my eyelids, and the taste of him is on my tongue.

Angel. A beautiful name for a beautiful person, and I want to put my hands on him so much it hurts.

I’ve even watched him sleep deep in the night.

He tosses and turns for quite a while before slumber takes him.

When it does, he seems so peaceful, so idyllic I amused myself with trying to count the freckles on his face, but then he’d shift and I’d lose count.

I imagined myself climbing into his bed, sliding my hands under his pyjamas…

I wouldn’t actually do it, but I’ve been thinking about it a concerning number of times.

About his pink nipples, his slender, taut stomach, about what I’d find in the pyjama pants.

In our minds, we’re free, no matter how wrong or inappropriate the fantasy might be.

But while I worried he might hide from me inside the cabin, he ventured out on day one. The one gay couple in our village, Road and Clyde, brought him breakfast, and while I did crawl up to the windows, I only heard bits of conversation before they left, armed to the teeth with gossip.

Angel left his new home half an hour later and made two friends the moment he stepped into the store. It took me months to open my mouth to the owner, Brad, but here Angel was, coercing information out of him as if he were on FBI’s payroll.

By the time lunch started at the canteen, he was invited to eat at a table with my biker brothers, who were clearly intrigued by the boy I abducted to my cave .

I wasn’t able to listen in on everything, but from the bits I gathered, he didn’t tell them about what my dwelling looks like, or that I have a pet spider.

Or that I licked him. I feel humiliated enough after being so blatantly tricked by my prisoner.

I should have known better. But in the face of his pain, I was blind to the consequences.

Maybe I don’t even regret any of it. Who would I be if I hadn’t tried to help him?

Worse than a monster.

After that first lunch, Angel didn’t retreat to the safety of his house like I would have.

He mingled .

He offered to help with some dishwashing, then had a beer in what is essentially our town square.

He was the king of sunshine, and soon enough made conversation with strangers with ease I couldn’t even dream of.

He introduced himself, talked about his hairdressing skills, and how he’d soon have tools to offer his services.

By evening, he got invited to someone’s home to watch movies together with a group of women.

The next day was even more successful for Angel.

He got to try out fishing at the pier, with the equipment Roger lent him, then had Rhonda’s pie, which he described as the best he ever tasted , then proceeded to babysit two kids at the playground, because their mom had a last-moment errand to run.

As a thank you, she invited him over for a pizza dinner, and in the evening, Angel emerged from her home with nails painted pink by one of the kids and a lollypop in his mouth.

He must have not liked it, because he threw it away half-finished, and I’m ashamed to admit that yes, I plucked it out of the trash and finished it, dreaming about his lips around the piece of candy.

I’m now on day three of stalking the only boy whose taste I know, and I didn’t even get to sleep under his bed, because he must be checking there each night.

In the morning, Angel took some clothes to the laundry room, and at one point I heard him talk to an elderly man, Phil, about the weather taking a downturn.

I don’t know how he does it. He makes friends with such ease, chats to everyone, and he’s weaving himself into the tapestry of Vulture Hollow already.

He must have even talked to Brigid, because when I came over to drop off the game we never used, she suggested he was very sweet, and bright, knew a lot about crystals.

I was too upset about everyone else getting along with him so well, so I didn’t stay for tea even when she insisted, and left to sulk with a cream cheese and raisin sandwich.

Angel is a butterfly released from my cage, and so of course he’s thriving in the sun, and the small golden hoops in his earlobes only add to his glow.

All I can do is watch him, my sole consolation—the rainbow-patterned shoelace I stole from one of his sneakers.

It’s now wrapped around my left wrist, and while it never sat against his skin, it gives me pleasure to see its match still woven into Angel’s shoe.

It’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to him again, but while I try not to fool myself into thinking he’ll ever want to speak to me, now that he has access to so many other people, the separation is putting me on-edge.

Oh, how I crave to nuzzle his cheekbone and smell amber. His scent is warm, cozy, with a hint of caramel. I want him to smile at me, watch me, ask me questions he truly wants to know the answers to.

If he acknowledged my presence one more time, maybe I could be happy for a while. Instead I stalk him like he’s a doe and I’m a mountain lion too inept to ever pounce.

A socially awkward predator.

I hate myself so much.

Just because I’m capable of killing and threatening people, and I make a good addition to the Vulture Hollow MC, doesn’t mean I can handle other matters well.

I almost wish I never met him, so I wouldn’t be so torn apart over being ignored.

Which is ironic, since I’m the one who avoids him, not the other way around.

I lost him for a moment, as even my stealth skills have limitations, but when I hear his voice, I’m back on track. He’s so… friendly. He was nice to me even after I captured him. Even when I slept under his bed like a freak.

“They’re so cute. I never saw anyone handle birds like that,” Angel says as I slide between the branches of a huckleberry bush to peek onto the yard where we keep all our chickens.

“Don’t you worry, it won’t bite,” Rooster says, and I can imagine his wide smile even before I spot his big mohawk.

It’s dyed red, as if it being naturally ginger wasn’t enough for him.

The youngest member of our motorcycle club is reckless, a bit silly, and maybe too nice of a person to sell drugs and scare old ladies with his appearance alone.

But he’s Harvey’s son, a legacy member, so it’s none of my business to question his place.

The worst thing though? He flirts with everyone, hoping something sticks.

And when Angel smiles before stroking the chicken in Rooster’s arms, my insides simmer. The fuck does that red-haired kid think he’s doing?

“Her name’s Cabbage, because that’s her favorite food.

Are you vegetarian?” Rooster is taller than Angel, especially with the mohawk, and while he’s on the slim side, the lean muscles of his arms are exposed by the white shirt with no sleeves.

The top is already stained, and he’s wearing it with cowboy boots, but Angel doesn’t seem to mind and stands even closer as he pets the chicken.

“Mostly plant-based, but I do eat meat when it makes sense. I hope I won’t find Cabbage on my plate anytime soon?”

Rooster steps back and places the bird on the ground. “No way. She’s my partner. Look!”

I can’t fucking believe it. He’s trying to woo my Angel the same way he does with girls! I don’t get to even think any of this through, and Rooster is already in a handstand. One whistle later, Cabbage the Chicken leaps up, flapping her wings to perch on the sole of his foot.

And, predictably, Angel loves it.

“That’s one well-trained chicken!” He doesn’t just smile.

He laughs with such glee, sunshine can’t compete with the brightness of his voice.

His eyes wrinkling, lips stretched widely, he’s the picture of joy when he claps at Rooster’s efforts, and I swear his gaze darts to the bastard's stomach when Rooster’s top pools down at his armpits.

Just like when I first licked him, I don’t think and act on instinct.

“I trained her with real juicy worms,” Rooster says, voice strained with effort, but by the time he finishes his sentence, I’m already there.

I push him over as Cabbage flops away with a cluck. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask, physically aware of Angel’s presence. His gaze burns with disapproval, but I can’t stand by and do nothing when Rooster’s trying to coerce him into his grasp.

“What—have you been here this whole time?” Angel chokes out, his wide eyes bluer than the cloud-painted sky above.

Rooster scowls at me, picking himself up from the ground “What the fuck, man?”

I look between them in frustration, unsure whom to answer first, but I’m pissed off with Rooster, so I go with that. “‘ Pet the chicken ’? Really? Why don’t you just go all out and ask him to stroke your cock, huh?”

Angel’s mouth drops, and the shade of Rooster’s face soon rivals his hair. “I’m not even gay, man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh really? I’ve seen the way he watches guys when he thinks no one sees him, and I don’t trust him one—

“What the hell?” Angel shoves at my chest, his pretty pink mouth twisted into a scowl that shows all of his nice teeth.

“You were gone for three days! No hello, no how are you doing? You couldn’t even knock when you left cleaning supplies on my doorstep, and now you’re angry I’m talking to someone else? ”

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I sizzle under Angel’s scrutiny when Rooster smirks and pulls out a cigarette. “Yeah, Creep, you’ve not pissed on his leg, so I don’t get—”

I push his chest in frustration. “ You , shut up!” I turn toward Angel but still can’t make myself meet his eyes.

“Is this… the shoelace I lost?” he asks, and I hurriedly hide my left hand behind my back. “I was… hmm…”

I watch his feet as he steps closer, the missing shoelace replaced with a basic white one.

“You just left me on my own. I don’t know anyone here, and you disappeared.

I counted on you, and you weren’t there!

” Another push. “I waited. Even got the tea you like from Brigid, so I’d have it on hand when you finally show up.

But you never did, until now! How dare you chastise him when he’s just keeping me company? ”

He… counted on me? I was pretty sure he preferred to be left alone, so he could make friends with nice people.

Rooster watches me inquisitively and grabs Cabbage as if she’s a chicken-shaped shield. Bastard.

“Just… not him ,” I point to Rooster, painfully aware I’m not making sense.

Rooster frowns. “Why not?”

“ Yes , why not?” Angel repeats, getting right into my personal space. “Why not if you weren’t there? I even cleaned under the bed, because I figured you might crawl in there, and now you’re having a jealous fit? And we didn’t even talk about the licking !”

Rooster whistles. “Oh, wow. Now we’re getting to the good stuff. What ‘licking’?”

I am boiling alive. “None of your business! Fuck off, Rooster, or I promise you, I’m gonna make your life such hell you’ll be begging to end up on a plate next to Cabbage!”

He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to sass me, but then just raises his hand in defeat and walks off. “I’ll see you around, Angel!” he yells without looking back.

Angel grabs the hem of my shirt and tugs me closer. “Nothing to say to me ? Have you decided what you actually want?”

Voice dies in my throat. I’ve learned to deal with guys who piss me off all the way back in juvie. I needed to if I wanted to survive. But Angel? A pretty boy I want to wrap myself around? I’m so out of my depth.

“I didn’t want to bother you after what I did,” I mumble, hypnotized by the blue of his eyes.

Angel sighs and places his hands on his hips as he takes me in.

“You abducted me. Yes, you did that! I was scared for my life, but then you just deserted me as if I was a broken toy. Do you know how that felt?” Is he…

about to cry? But before I can decide, Angel rubs his face and goes on, “I thought you wanted me, but then you just disappeared, and now you’re acting as if you have the right to me and my time?

And you know what? I don’t belong to you.

Actually, I don’t want to even look at you right now! ”

I step back as if he’s hit me. I would have preferred that, because at least he would have touched me then. “Hm… how about I come over next week?” Is that a decent amount of time to wash away some of this pain between us? Or am I misinterpreting ‘right now’ when he means he never wants to see me?

“Are you shitting me?” Angel snaps. “Should I prepare lunch and cover the table with my new embroidered cloth, too?”

Fuck. Wrong again. If I danced with the chicken instead, would he have smiled at me? “I’m sorry about the licking,” I say, trying to somehow put a lid on this situation, because I worry that’s what he’s really angry about.

But Angel turns on his heel and walks off, his thin cardigan flopping behind him like a cape.

He hates me.

He never wants to see me again.