Page 9 of Slayin Villain (Royal Bastards MC: Nashville, TN #11)

Villain

Rachel wasn’t answering my calls.

Not texts. Not smoke signals. Not even a goddamn door knock.

She was ghosting me, and not in the cute, bratty way that usually ended with her in my lap, pouting until I made her moan. No, this time it felt permanent. Hollow. Final.

And I didn’t like it. Not one goddamn bit.

I banged on her apartment door again. Louder. My fist thudding like a warning shot. She lived in a small place over by the East side, a trailer park, tucked behind a shuttered laundromat. No cameras. Just a porch light that flickered when you walked under it.

"Rachel," I called. “Open the fuckin’ door.”

Nothing.

I could smell her perfume. That soft, sweet vanilla thing she wore that always got stuck to my cut. I could feel her behind that door. She was home.

“Come on, Red,” I said softer, leaning close to the wood. “I ain’t here to fight. Just talk.”

Still nothing.

I backed up and dragged fingers through my hair.

Fine.

She wanted space?

She could have it.

But she was mine.

And I don’t lose what’s mine without a goddamn war.

Back at Royal Road, the party was still alive, barely. A few girls slumped on couches. Thorn passed out with his boots still on. I walked through the front like I didn’t want to rip something apart.

And I knew exactly where to go.

Back out. Clear across Nashville.

Of course, I knew where she lived. Ember opened the door in nothing but a black tank top and boyshorts.

“Wasn’t expecting you,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly, though she stepped aside.

“You never are.”

I walked in, dropped my cut over the chair, and sat on the edge of her bed like I belonged there. Because maybe, in some fucked-up way, I did.

She shut the door, then paused, just a flicker of panic in her face as she looked toward her nightstand. She moved quick, slid the drawer shut with her hip like it hadn’t been open, like there was nothing in it that could burn the world down.

I filed it away. Not much could get past me. Didn’t say a damn thing.

Not yet.

She crossed her arms. “Bad night?”

“Worse.”

“Rachel?”

“Won’t even talk to me.”

Ember sat down beside me, legs tucked under her. “Maybe she’s done playing second.”

My head snapped toward her. “She’s not second.”

Her lips twisted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I didn’t answer. Just stared ahead. At the wall. At the cracks in the paint. At anything but her hot, wet mouth.

Ember was quiet for a beat. Then she said, soft, “Why’d you really come here?”

I looked at her then, really looked. Ember was wild and wrecked and beautiful. But there was something else now. Something softer hiding under the smart mouth and sharp edges.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Needed to get out of my own head. Needed to stop thinking about Rachel.”

“You’re heartbroken?”

“How’d you know?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Rome,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to think…” I started, talking about Rome, but I meant about Rachel.

She leaned in. “I can help with that.”

She kissed me, slow. No show this time. No audience. Just her lips, warm and trembling, brushing mine like she meant it. Like she needed it too.

I pulled her into my lap, hands sliding up under her tank to find her hard nipples. Her skin was soft. Warm. Familiar now.

“You sure?” I asked, voice rough.

“Villain,” she whispered, straddling me. “I stopped being unsure the second you showed up the first time.”

I kissed her hard. Deep. And then we were moving. Tangled. Shirt pulled over her head. Her legs wrapped around me. Heat blooming between us like wildfire.

She moaned my name when I sank my dick into her, slow and deep, her nails dragging down my back like she needed to mark me.

Rachel would see it. If she came back. She’d be livid. And something about that spurred me on.

We moved together like it meant something.

Maybe it did.

She held me tighter. I kissed her slower. Her eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot all about Rachel. Forgot about the patch-over. Forgot about the weight of every lie I was carrying.

It was just Ember and me and the blaze we couldn’t put out.

When we both came, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t angry. It was something else entirely.

Something I refused to name.

But I did register, I’d been coming in her, not thinking. I realized that it was stupid of me, too. Because Ember wasn’t a club girl who was fucking all my brothers, a sweetbutt who’d be careful.

Afterward, I laid beside her, chest heaving, trying to catch my breath.

She curled into me without a word. No smirk. No smugness. Just soft, steady breaths and fingers tracing circles on my ribs.

I should’ve left. Should’ve pulled away.

Instead, I said, “I fucked up.”

She looked up. “With Rachel?”

I nodded.

“She loves you.”

I didn’t answer.

“You love her?”

Silence.

Then I whispered, “I don’t know how to love anyone right.”

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t have to.

Later, after she fell asleep, I got up and grabbed my cut.

I passed the nightstand on the way out.

Paused.

Opened the drawer she’d shut in a panic.

And there it was.

A pregnancy test.

Positive.

I stared at it for a long time.

My chest didn’t tighten. It detonated.