Page 44 of Creep (Vulture Hollow MC #2)

Creep

The only reason I put my knife away is because I’d fucking kill Domino otherwise. And while I want to smell his blood, he’s right that a war with the Hell’s Butchers is something I don’t want to risk.

But the bastard is full of shit. I know that because Angel doesn’t drink alcohol. Ever. Whatever’s happening here, Domino needs to learn some fucking respect. A little scuffle between clubs is pretty much expected at a rally like this, and I won’t be pulling punches.

I’m glad to see the shock on his smug fucking face when he falls. He has the audacity to try grabbing Angel for balance, but my boy backs away in time.

“What was it really, you fucking liar?” I snarl, and don’t wait for a second before slamming my boot down on his crotch.

The howl of pain brings a smile to my face, but he still has enough lucidity to grab my leg, and when he twists, the world whirrs around me until I slam into the dirt, protecting the side of my head at the very last moment.

The grass smells of beer that must have been spilled here earlier, but when Domino’s towering form crawls up my body, I slam my elbow into his face.

A crack. Did I get the bastard’s nose? I don’t get to see, because he punches me in the stomach, and I tense my whole body to form a barrier of muscle and protect my organs.

“I’m going to break your legs, you fucking creep!”

The warning is a distraction, because his next punch is aimed at my face.

I cover it with my arm, but the sheer force in Domino’s fist means a world of pain both in my arm and head.

I’m dizzy, and I writhe like an eel under him, but the fucker is heavy.

Still, I need him off me or he’ll pulverize me, so I slam my knuckles into his side in a series of ferocious punches.

“Help! Get your hands off him!” Angel yells, and next thing I see is his face behind Domino’s as he climbs the brute like a bloodthirsty gremlin.

The slender arms wrap around Domino’s thick neck, and he pulls, showing so many teeth they gleam in the sparse light coming from beyond the narrow passage between trucks.

A low gurgle leaves Domino’s throat, and he uncovers his flank, reaching to the limbs around his neck.

I jab at the vulnerable flesh, then punch Domino’s jaw from below, shutting his ugly muzzle with a sharp clack .

He manages to toss Angel off him, and I see red when my boy rolls over the empty can lying in the grass.

“The fuck’s going on?” someone yells. Road’s voice? Blood pumps in my veins like oil set on fire. I can’t remember when I was last this filled with wrath.

I scramble from under Domino, grabbing the neckline of his T-shirt, and it rips.

“You’re gonna pay for this you fucking fag!” Domino yells as his punch manages to reach my ear, but I just laugh, because Road is in fact the one who arrived to deal with this clusterfuck first, and when homophobia rears its ugly head, he’s giddy to cut it off.

My ear is still ringing, so I don’t hear what Road is yelling, but he’s on Domino like a dog that’s found its favorite chew toy. Boot on chest, he has the bastard ready for butchering.

“I’m real fucking sensitive to that word, so if you throw it in my face, you might end up with no teeth.”

Prophet appears at the mouth of the passage, then more bodies pour in, crowding the space.

Angel’s still prone on the ground, panting, and I reach for him when someone’s boot stomps uncomfortably close to his head.

I pull him away in time, because a heartbeat later, an exchange of punches and kicks turns the narrow space into a war zone.

My heart quivers when I see the red sheen of blood on his lips and chin, but then guys from both clubs are pouring in, some trading insults, others attempting to cool everyone’s tempers.

The big blue eyes focus on me in the dark, and Angel gently reaches to my face. “Oh no… your nose.”

I am aware of the pain in my face, but I’m disassociated from it in favor of making sure no one dares pull Angel into the mayhem.

“Just go back to our bonfire, baby,” I say and urge him back behind the line of our guys, but Prophet stops me.

“The fuck’s happened here? Jesus Christ, Creep. Go put some ice on your face, that’s an order. I’ll handle the Butchers.”

I hesitate but nod when Angel grabs my hand and pulls. “Thanks,” I mumble and we walk off.

His warm form is tucked under my arm, and he’s pushing at me as if he believes I need his support to keep walking, which is…

kinda cute. The area around our bonfire is weirdly empty, and since I can’t see a single guy, I’m assuming the non-members who came with us to the rally have either joined the fight or are watching it from the sidelines.

It’s only women here, and they give a collective gasp at the sight of us.

Luce, Yeti’s little sister, shoots up from her camping chair and nudges us to the bench, as if she suspects we might not find our way without help. We probably look like shit.

“What happened?” she asks as Gilly approaches with a bottle of water and some paper towels.

It’s only now that I can give any thought to the coppery flavor on my tongue or the sticky sensation on my face, but Angel still takes precedence, and I cup his face.

His lip is split, and the side of his face is reddened from the slap he’d gotten from Domino, but he appears whole.

He’s avoiding my eyes when he speaks. “This guy just dragged me between the trucks and Creep came to help me.”

“Domino,” is all I need to say for both women to groan.

“Oh my God! That fuck has some serious anger management issues,” Luce says and pulls me toward a bucket of ice as Gilly hands Angel the bottle and towels.

“And he’s out of his mind on coke half the time,” she adds with a sneer.

Luce hands me some ice wrapped in a plastic bag, but then her eyes go wide. “Wait. Is Yeti still there?”

When I nod, she runs off without another word. Some of the other girls follow, and those who stay keep to themselves, whispering as Angel dabs the wet paper towel on my skin. He’s still avoiding my eyes, as if there’s something shameful about what happened.

“I’m so sorry. I should have stayed close to you,” he mutters, and when he takes away the towel, I see it’s stained with my blood.

“No. He should have known you’re mine and kept his hands to himself.

How fucking dare he?” I’m angry with myself.

I shouldn’t have waited so long to claim him, but the fear of rejection kept me chained.

“Are you okay? Show me?” I pull him into my lap even though I’m anxious about holding him like this.

That fucking thing about two wolves inside you must be true, because one of mine wants to run away and sit in the darkness, while the other wants to devour Domino whole as Angel watches.

“I’m fine,” he says, turning his face away. “It was just a slap. You were there right away so—” Angel finally looks at me. Fuck, he’s so beautiful, and not just because of how pretty his face is. There’s a sweetness in his eyes, pure honey that draws me in each time.

“I don’t want you to feel stalked,” even if I kinda was doing that.

I couldn’t stay away. If I’m not on club business, I want to be with him all the time.

I never felt like this before and it’s driving me insane.

“I was done with stuff for Prophet, so I looked for you. I… I just really wanted this night to be great, and it’s already a failure.

” My shoulders sag. He needs to see that life at my side will be fun and exciting, but all he was met with tonight is violence.

Angel sighs, and I shrink, ashamed that I’ve dragged him here, but then his lips are on mine, and our foreheads meet a moment later. It’s like quenching my thirst with the cool water from a spring.

“It’s not your fault. And we’re not going to let him mess up this evening for us, right? We can still have a lot of fun together.” And like the angel he is, he holds the ice against my cheek.

“You’re happy to stay? Are you sure? There’s still so much to see, and food.

So much food. Hot dogs, burgers, waffles, fried chicken, barbeque, or sweets, there’s even ice cream at the funfair.

” I’m pretty sure I’m babbling, which isn’t like me, but that’s what he does to me.

He opens me up in ways even my close friends couldn’t, and I want to let him.

“I’d like to see the funfair,” Angel admits, but then his gaze darts past me, and men in leather settle back around the bonfire.

“You two good?” Clyde asks, rubbing his chin and moving his jaw in different directions. Road soon joins him and hands over a crude ice pack made of his own T-shirt.

“I’m sorry about causing such a mess,” Angel mutters.

Road squints at us. “Oh no, Domino had it coming. You should be proud of your man’s restraint, or we could have had a war on our hands.

I know you, Creep,” he focuses on me. “You could have bled him out like the pig he is, but you think about the consequences for the club. Good man.” Road pats my shoulder and hands me a beer.

“Now you’re talking,” Yeti grumbles, taking a seat next to Luce. His thick brow hangs low over his eyes as he shakes his head. “Don’t remember you being so reasonable last time.”

Road tosses a sugar packet his way, and the little paper square hits Yeti in the middle of the forehead. “Just fucking drop it!”

I put the cold beer against my other cheek, but even in these circumstances Angel sitting in my lap is a bit too much in public. If he stays there any longer, I might need an ice pack on my dick.

“Funfair?” I ask as my buddies argue in the background, and he offers me a smile so bright even the pain in my nose nor the cut in his lip can spoil the moment. His fingers dance down my forearm and wrist, then tickle the middle of my palm, and he presses the softest of kisses to my cheek.