Page 12 of Property of Brute & Axl
“Thank you both.” They bow slightly and take off, leaving the three of us alone.
I sit against the wall, uncomfortable with giving my back to random, unfamiliar men. Brute and Axl angle their chairs to keep me and the entire room in their sight. I don’t think it’s a trust issue, however. It seems more security-like.
“Eat.” Axl pushes a plate filled with fragrant food towards me, but I reach for the glass of water first. My throat is parched and feels like it’s getting drier by the moment.
“Are you not eating?” They also have plates, and more men are heading towards the kitchen to grab food, too.
“Once everyone is settled, we will.”
These men’s dynamics are confusing and intriguing. I’ve never witnessed anything like it and want to know more. I have so many questions but doubt they’ll all be answered, so I start simple. “Are your birth names really Brute and Axl?”
They both turn to stare at me as I grab my fork, attempting to make this interaction feel as normal as possible when nothing is normal at all.
“No,” Brute says, a bite in his tone. “My name is Jack Williams.”
So common. “Why do they call you Brute?”
Axl snorts and waves a hand at Brute’s fists. “You see the size of those things?” He laughs; Brute doesn’t.
They are rather large hands, and I can imagine they’d do a lot of damage to someone; thankfully, they’ve been nothing but kind and protective towards me.
“I beat a kid half to death in high school,” he explains, startling me with the revelation.
“Oh.” I’m still fighting with slicing up a piece of lasagna with the side of my fork when he grabs my utensils and cuts the entire thing. “Thanks.” I finally get a bite in my mouth and nearly gag. Too. Much. Garlic. Dear god.
“They’re not the greatest cooks.” Axl winces and hands me my water glass.
“Hey, assholes, what’d you do to the food?” one of the other members shouts.
Olympus appears frozen in place as Neo narrows his eyes. “Uh, cooked it?”
Someone picks up a piece and tosses it in Neo’s face, making the men laugh and grumble something about ordering pizza.
“They have some things to learn,” another guy rumbles as he collects our plates, offering a reassuring smile in place of the scowl he had moments before.
“Who is that?” Quietly inquiring is easier than having to interact with them when they all intimidate me.
“That’s Easy. He’s an enforcer for the club. Keeps everyone safe,” Axl explains, then starts pointing out other members. Honestly, I forget almost everyone he mentions until he stops on a man called Viking. Seeing him covered in blood is what terrified me into fainting.
He appears normal now, aside from the scar on his face—from the temple, down his cheek, traveling along his jaw to his throat, and disappearing into the collar of his shirt and vest. What a gruesome way for someone to hurt him.
“What does he do for the club?” I’m transfixed by the ice in his piercing blue eyes. They’re…dead but calculating.
“He’s our VP,” Brute answers, turning my head when I don’t look at him. “He’s in charge when I’m not here.” The subtle warning is not missed. If I’m ever here when they’re not, listen to Viking.
Licking my suddenly dry lips, Brute’s gaze tracks the movement, and an electric current sizzles between us as he turns his body towards me, trapping me between his legs. When he leans forward, I hold my breath, whimpering when our lips touch, and my eyes close, losing myself in the way we connect. How he opens his mouth, and I follow suit. He flicks his tongue across my teeth, giving me time to retreat before his hands land on my thighs, gripping me and trapping me in his hold.
Ignoring the searing pain in my ribs by leaning forward, I mimic Brute’s actions as he deepens the kiss, pulling my tongue into his mouth. My casted hand grips the edge of his vest, and my body vibrates with pleasure as he nips my tongue, sucking it into his mouth when I move to pull back.
He doesn’t stop until my head is tugged back by a hand on my jaw and turned into Axl’s mouth. He’s not as patient as Brute, going in right for the kill, sweeping his tongue into my mouth and tasting every inch of me until I moan.
Their mouths are dominant, but the touch of their hands remains gentle as they explore my bruised and tattered body. The reality of my agonizing ordeal should give me pause. I shouldn’t want this, but my body seems to know more than my mind because it immediately surrenders my trust to them.
I should be terrified by the feelings as they kindle within me, but I’m exhilarated, and for the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, I don’t dread what’s next. I anticipate and welcome it.
Chapter 8
Brute