Page 15 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER EIGHT

RIOT

I stare into my glass, watching the way the bubbles from my beer float to the surface while I think.

I brought her sushi, something I know she likes because it was on her sign, so why won’t she eat it?

I didn’t even get the chance to present her with the backpack of all her stuff.

Maybe if I had, that would’ve changed her attitude?

“You good, brother?” Dutch, an enforcer for the club, asks, obviously noticing my mood. On a good day, I’m an asshole. On a bad day, I’m insufferable, which is why my brothers ignore me. So why have I had to push away three people already?

I couldn’t stay in that cabin, though. I had to get out of there before I did or said something she wouldn’t forgive me for.

That’s curious in itself because I don’t typically care about sparing anyone’s feelings.

I can always be trusted to tell it like it is, no matter the consequences, because you’re an idiot if you get upset over facts.

Being upset doesn’t make them any less true, but I don’t want Parker to hate me, which is why I’m sitting at the bar and not finishing my conversation with her.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, you look it.” He sits on the stool next to me. “What’s going on?”

“I kidnapped a girl from the last job Killer and I went on and have her holed up in my cabin. If I let her go, she’ll likely tell the cops I killed her dad, and then Bart Banks would kill her, something I should’ve done in the first place.

But I can’t make myself do it, and I don’t know why,” I say, hoping maybe he has some advice for me.

He bellows with laughter, gaining the attention of everyone in here. There isn’t a party going on, but Sugar just got done serving dinner, so more than a few people are loitering around. I don’t laugh. Not only because this isn’t funny, but also because I just don’t laugh in general.

When he sees not even a hint of amusement on my face, he must remember I don’t joke, and his laughter dies. “Holy fuck. Dead ass?” When I look at him in confusion, he clarifies. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I said it, didn’t I?”

“Does Cy know about this?”

The room has gone quiet, so even though no one has moved closer, I know they’re still listening. Whatever. I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s done. They can’t change it, and if anyone tries to get to Parker, they’ll have to get through me first.

“No. Rigger and Killer do.”

Dutch flicks his shaggy black hair off his forehead and looks over my shoulder. “You’re okay with this, bro?”

“He’s a grown-ass man, and I’m not his babysitter,” Rigger says.

“Is she. . . okay?” Dutch asks carefully. “She’s not hurt or anything?”

I think about the marks on her throat, marks I put there. If I told him about that, he might try and take her away from me, so I hold back. “She’s fine.”

“That’s good.” He spins around on his stool so he’s facing the pool tables and leans against the bar, taking on a casual stance when I know he’s taking this conversation seriously. “So, what’s your plan for her?”

“Rigger and Killer think I need to marry her to keep her safe.”

The bottle of beer he was holding slips from his hand and falls to the polished cement floor. The glass shatters, and beer splashes all over the fucking place.

“Prospect,” he calls out, and seconds later, our newest prospect, Dillon, appears with a rag and drops to the ground. At thirty-five, he’s the oldest prospect we’ve had in a while, but he’s spent the last seventeen years in the Army, some of that as a Ranger. “Get me a new one when you’re done.”

“Sure.” Dillon wipes up the mess.

“You’re not really going to marry her, are you?” Dutch asks.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yeah, anything other than you marrying the girl you abducted.”

“That’s not helpful,” I say.

“Oh, you were being serious?”

“That’s why I asked.” I don’t usually ask anyone for their opinion since this is my life and mine is the only one that matters, but I’ve also never been this confused before.

“Do you like her?”

“I don’t know.” I can’t find the right words to explain how I feel about her, so I tell him a few facts instead. “She stands up to me even though she knows I’m in charge of her fate.”

“A challenge is always good. Are you attracted to her?”

“Her looks are appealing, but she’s a virgin.”

He chokes on his fresh beer. “She told you that?”

“She thought I was going to rape her, so yes, she told me she didn’t want that to be her first experience.”

He sighs loudly. “Fuck, brother. I’m not nearly drunk enough for this conversation.”

“I’m not a rapist.”

“Of course not, but I’d work on making her like you before tryin’ to get her nakey.”

“It doesn’t even matter when she hates me for killing her dad and wants to get away.”

“I mean, that’s valid, right?” he asks.

“Her dad was a trafficker. He bought women and kids and then charged admission for his friends to fuck and abuse them.”

“Goddamn.” He looks around. “Do you know where Bones is? I’m gonna need a joint after this.”

“He’s outside. Lucky and Tinleigh got a puppy.”

“No shit?”

“I’d imagine there will be a lot of shit in their future.”

“Right.” He picks at the label of his bottle of beer.

“I don’t know what to tell you, but you’re in deep, so just don’t make any rash decisions.

Make sure she knows what’s going on and all her options.

Let her choose, and then she can suffer the consequences of her own actions.

If she told the cops you killed her dad, would they find any proof? ”

I look at him like he’s an idiot. “No, I’m not stupid. I don’t leave evidence behind.”

“Okay then. If she thinks she’s better off without you, let her go.” He hops off the stool. “I’m gonna go get high and play with the puppy.”

I push my beer to the side and follow him out. Instead of going left, where a group has gathered around a Rottweiler puppy Tinleigh named Beef, I go right, toward my cabin.

I’m on my porch when my front door opens, which shouldn’t happen because I’m the only one with the code for the lock. In a split second, I’m next to the door, ready with my knife in my hand.

A figure steps outside, and I have them in a chokehold, the tip of my blade pressed against their throat before they’ve even fully passed the threshold.

They kick back, but they’re short, so instead of my crotch, where I’m sure the kick was aimed, they hit my shin.

Still painful, since they’re wearing heavy boots, but not enough to get me to release.

It registers first that I have a woman in my hold and second that I recognize her spicy scent because it gives me a headache whenever we’re in confined spaces. I release her with a shove. “What the fuck are you doing in my cabin?”

Killer sputters, taking in huge lungfuls of air. “You asshole!”

“I’ll ask again, why the fuck were you in my cabin?” I step menacingly toward her, expecting her to cower like anyone else would, but this is Myla, and she cowers to no one. Instead, her eyes narrow with murderous intent.

“I was checking on her.”

“She’s fine,” I say dismissively. “How did you get inside?”

“I know your code.”

“The fuck?”

“I’ve seen you lock up a million times.”

“That’s just fucking great. Did you tell her?”

“The code? No. I didn’t even uncuff her, even if that’s an asshole move.”

I’m not sure I believe her. Either way, I’ll have to reprogram my locks before I leave next time. “Get the hell outta here before I break Judge’s heart and kill his ol’ lady.”

“I’m no one’s ol’ lady, and you’re a prick.” She throws her middle finger in the air as she walks away.

I shake my head and walk inside to a quiet house.

I’m surprised Killer was telling the truth and didn’t let Parker go or steal her to make sure she was being treated well.

After what she’s been put through over the years, she’s got enough feminine rage to castrate a man just by looking at him.

At least, that’s what she says, though it’s not physically possible, so I think it’s her way of telling men not to mess with her.

Either way, I find Parker right where I left her and take that as a good sign. Killer must trust me.

My chest squeezes at the sight of my little thorn lying there, helpless. I wonder if I’ve ever really thought a woman was beautiful before because I don’t ever remember feeling this overpowered by someone’s appearance the way I am with Parker.

Even with a scowl on her pretty face that tells me she’s mad, I still find her stunning. Not that I blame her for being pissed; I wouldn’t be happy either if someone had me cuffed to the bed against my will.

“You hungry yet?” I ask, pulling my heavy silver rings off my fingers and placing them on my dresser.

“No.”

“What about the bathroom?”

“I’d like to shower before bed.”

“Yeah, okay.” I unlock the cuff around her wrist. She sits up, rubbing at the tender flesh. Her hands are so small and delicate, I wonder how it’d feel to hold one in my own. I’ve never held hands with a woman, never even wanted to, but I think I’d like to with Parker.

There are a lot of things I want to do with her that I’ve never done before.

Of course, I also want to shove my cock down her throat and pound her pussy raw after making her come so many times she sobs for me to stop, but I also want to sit by her on the couch or take a shower with her and wash her hair, little things like that.

It’s too bad none of that will ever happen. The only way she’ll stay with me is if I keep her locked up. Women like her don’t choose men like me.

“I don’t have any clean clothes.”

“Hold on,” I say, finally able to give her the backpack. A couple seconds later, I hand it over, hoping I didn’t fuck up again. I did break into her house, after all.

“What’s this?” She unzips the canvas bag and peers inside. “Where did you get these?”

“I went to your apartment. If I didn’t get the right shit, I can go back.”

“You broke into my apartment? What about my roommates? Did you hurt them?”

“What? No. Why would I—” The rest of the sentence lies on my tongue as it hits me that she thinks I’d kill her friends just to make sure she has clean underwear. “They weren’t home.”

“Oh.” She pulls each item out of the backpack and lays it flat on the bed. “It’ll be nice to wear clothes that fit.”

“That’s valid.”

She fishes out a pair of panties, and her cheeks turn pink. “You went through my underwear drawer?”

“You owned a lot of underthings, so I assumed you wore them.”

She tucks them back in the bag and pulls out something else I wasn’t sure if she’d want. On a whim, I grabbed the small teddy bear on her bed. When she sees it and immediately hugs it to her chest, I feel proud I did something right.

“My mom gave this to me before she died. Thank you for bringing it to me.”

“It was on your bed, and people typically keep important things close.”

“It is important.” She sets it down on her pillow and picks out a pair of pajamas. There were a fuck ton of matching little boxer shorts and T-shirts, so I guessed that’s what she likes to sleep in.

“You can put your stuff in one of the drawers.” I open an empty one I don’t use since I only have the necessary clothing.

“Okay.” She reaches into the backpack, and I see the flash of black she fists and tucks between her pajamas, as if I weren’t the one who picked out the underthings she’s trying to hide. It’s cute.

“Shower’s all yours.”

I wait until the bathroom door is closed to breathe out a sigh and adjust the erection bulging in my pants.

The last time I remember my body reacting like this was when I was thirteen and saw an underwear catalog for the first time.

But things changed after. . . well, after .

Nothing about me stayed the same once I left the trailer park for good. Not until Parker.

Dropping my pants, I step out of them and strip off my shirt. The situation between my legs needs to be dealt with before Parker comes back. I find a bottle of lotion and some tissues in my nightstand. The water turns on in the bathroom, so I lie down and free my cock from my boxer briefs.

With a palmful of lotion, I stroke my hard dick, circling over my pierced glans and groaning at how good it feels.

What would Parker think if she saw what I’ve done to myself?

Four curved barbels, symmetrically placed, pass through the head.

Aptly named the king’s crown, it’s one of the more painful genital piercings, but that’s what I was after at the time.

Now, it brings back any sensitivity loss from circumcision and feels good for my partner too.

While my right hand jerks me off, my left rubs up and down my chest, stopping to tug on the silver hoop running through my left nipple before doing the same to the right, yet another form of punishment that ended up giving me pleasure.

My cock thickens as I stroke, and I try to imagine what it would be like to fuck Parker.

There are only certain times and areas of my body where I don’t mind being touched, so I’d want her completely naked with her wrists and ankles cuffed to the bed.

I like the idea of her looking at my body.

I’ve been told I have a big cock, and it would get me hard to see Parker admire it.

I’d start by getting my hands on her breasts. I love tits more than any other body part on a woman. They’re so warm and soft, yet so reactive. When I can visibly see a body respond to what I’m doing, it stops me from wondering if I’m doing something right.

Parker’s tits are huge, just begging for me to bury my face in them.

I’d suck and bite on her nipples, paying attention to her sounds and the way her body squirms so I can learn what she likes.

Since I’ve convinced myself she’s perfect for me, I know she’d get off on my teeth leaving their mark all over them and cream herself if I hollowed my cheeks and took long pulls from her nipples.

I’m so gone to the pleasure, running through as many fantasies as I can, that I lose track of time. It’s not uncommon for me. I often lose hours of my day just letting my mind wander, but I usually don’t have my cock out and a young woman living with me to witness it.

“Oh,” she whispers, and my eyes pop open to find her standing just inside the room. My fist freezes mid-shaft as I wait for her reaction, but Parker doesn’t move a muscle. I’m not even sure she blinks.

I don’t know her well enough to understand the look on her face. Her eyes are wide and her breaths are shaky, which could mean she’s shocked, maybe even scandalized. But then her brows rise, and she pushes her glasses higher on her nose.

Is that. . . interest?