Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Elodie

L anding on my cheek didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Probably because I already have too much damage to my face. Maybe because my body and brain are working together to protect me from the shit show around me. Who knows?

“Look over my offer. I will send your lawyer the information.” Father is dismissive, his tone no longer interested as I stay exactly where he left me. Boots come closer and closer, and something in my gut tells me that this isn’t going to be amazing.

My hair is suddenly tangled at the root, my head jerked back as I gaze into his eyes. More emotions I can’t read are being cast from him to me, but they mean nothing when I have no idea what he is trying to say. Stomach dropping, he hauls me to my feet and doesn’t give me much time to recover before dragging me behind him and the other guy. Thankfully, the second we step out of Father’s office, the grip on my hair is released and his fingers tangle into mine. Side-eyeing both men, neither one reassures me as we take the stairs. Keeping up with them is hard, the muscles in my body screaming in agony and exhaustion. Sleep hasn’t come easy, and the lack of food I have had in the past month shows.

Elton sends me a terrified look. I send back a look that hopefully is reassuring. Having not really been around people with emotions, I don’t know what to think besides he is scared for my well-being and what will happen next.

He is not the only one.

“Shit,” he curses, and I grimace, waiting for Father to strike. However, he doesn’t because we are leaving and Henley is a man. Men can curse and lay with other women. Women do not have the luxury. I used to think it wasn’t a double standard, that it was normal. Ever since I started writing Wini, I have realized that’s not the case. It’s also the standard that forced me to go through my own personal hell this past month. We stop at the bottom of the stairs outside, my ears ringing and body tingling, Henley and his buddy sling themselves over their bikes. Narrowing my eyes, I wait for someone to hint at me what I’m supposed to be doing.

When nothing happens, Henley takes me in with a sigh. “I forgot you aren’t dressed for the ride.” His buddy shakes his head, kicking something that scrapes on the ground and the rumble of his motorcycle starts up. Neither one of them has those cruiser-style ones I used to see as a kid. They have the ones that go fast, very fast. “We will have to make due.” Pulling at one wrist, the leather jacket comes off his body. The female on the logo is one that looks slightly familiar, like a classy pinup. He dangles it between us, and he better be glad I can take a hint. Slipping my arms through the sleeves, the jacket is already warm from his body heat. My first instinct is to curl into the material and inhale. My survival instincts force my leg muscles to flex and bend as I hoist myself onto the back of his motorcycle. My knee almost gives in, but his firm grip on my hand keeps my forward momentum.

“Wrap your arms around my waist,” he calls over his shoulder. Furrowing my brows, I hesitate to do that. Something about that seems far too intimate. We had sex, I know that, but this is more than just one night. This is touching…caressing. I’m not given the chance to think about it more as we’re jerked forward. Barely able to scramble onto my hold, I grip him tightly as he and the other guy peel out of Father’s driveway. A sharp squeal breaks from my lips as my hair whips behind me, my heart slamming against my bones in alertness.

Darkness coats us as we drive down back roads. The longer I sit here, the wind carrying my hair behind me, the more free I feel. I have no idea what is in store for me once we arrive, but releasing one hand from its tight grip around him, I raise it into the air slowly. Not caring who is around or behind up, my arm moves languidly as I make waves as we zoom.

His buddy catches me, his arm coming off the bike and mimicking the motion with a smile as bright as mine to match. If anything, I needed some sort of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. The lead weight I felt at my father’s home is dissipating with each mile we go, and I know that I’m safe. Self-doubt will always touch my mind, and always be part of who I am, but I can grow to love the flaws that Father ingrained in me, I know it.

With a loud whoop , I gently let my other hand fall away from Henley’s, both of my arms now sky high. An arm lands on my thigh, startling me. Henley peers back at me with a smirk of his own before turning toward the road and keeping us steady. His hand smooths over my knee as he drives, the butterflies in my stomach swarming with nerves, a pulse that I’m embarrassed to admit also starts to beat.

It’s the dead of the night, neither man can see my deepened blush, but I know it’s there. Blushing or not, this is a feeling I never felt before, and truly believe I might do anything to feel this way again. I also know that my hair is going to be a nappy mess, though that’s a problem for future me. Present me is having the time of her life.

After what feels like hours of riding, Henley and his buddy turn onto a dirt road, crawling to a slower pace. Both men bring their feet to the ground and do a walk-waddle thing as they park their bikes, the roaring of the engines suddenly silent.

Crickets chirp in the distance as we sit in the dead of the night. None of us got off the bikes, all of us staring at the movement inside the house. Laughter bellows outside, the thumping music echoing through the silent night air.

After minutes of staring, Henley’s buddy is the first one to get off his bike. Henley brings his hand up and waits. Laying my palm in his gloved one, his buddy comes over to help me get off without face-planting into the gravel. A bubbled growl emanates from Henley, and when I turn to look at him, he is back to the stoic face.

Did I just imagine him growling?

No, I don’t think I conjured that in my brain.

Henley kicks himself off his bike and reaches me in three long strides. Hand landing on my back, his obsidian eyes bore into my hazel eyes. The darkness within them captures me quietly, the vines from under the waters grasping my affections and threatening to drown me. Gasping, my own hands fly to his chest, my fingers digging into the harsh leather and yanking him closer to me. His inhale matches mine as electricity buzzes between us.

“Shit, I think my hair is standing,” his buddy says from next to us. Snapping us both out of our stupors, I attempt to take a step away and create distance, but Henley doesn’t allow it. His hand is still firmly planted on my back, and he guides us toward the booming house.

“This is called a clubhouse,” he mutters as his buddy opens the door for us. I murmur a small thanks before letting Henley lead the way. Several men greet Henley and his buddy, who I find out is the president and is named Hael. They also inquire about me, who they have dubbed as “T-shirt Princess.” It reminds me of the letter that Wini sent me, and the gears in my head are suddenly shifting.

Holy Toledo, Henley is t-shirt guy.

Suppressing the giggle is useless as I remember her letter about him. Unfortunately, my father used those letters and everything in my stockpile as a fire starter. I also don’t think he even realized that Henley was in the mix. Speaking of the male, he glances down at me for a moment, his black eyes sparkling in the midst of the dim lighting.

An ember spits to life in my lower stomach, each heavy exhale of his seems to push oxygen into it and spark it back to life. Shifting on my feet, I clench my thighs together for a small reprieve. He catches the movement, nostrils flaring. He turns to face me fully, his hand dragging from my lower back to the top of my butt. His other hand lands on my waist, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin as he bores into me.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, leaning down and landing his lips right onto mine. He sweeps his tongue against my lower lip, and I immediately grant him entrance. Mine meets his, each sweep of his tongue against mine, each clash on his lips, his teeth gnawing into my lower lip…

“Teach me a lesson, then,” I retort softly and pull away just enough to see his reaction. With a deep, timber growl, he bends down and lifts. “What-put me down!” I shriek as he tosses me over his shoulder. The pain in my stomach from the move is complete agony, vomit threatens to come up my throat and down his back, but I’m able to breathe through it. Men and their significant others laugh at my predicament, not realizing that I’m on the verge of barfing up what little lunch I actually had while smiling and cheering for us as Henley takes off to a set of stairs. Landing my hands flat on his back, his own hand lands harshly on my bottom, a resounding smack breaking through the laughing couples below.

He rounds a corner, barely slowing down. “You will learn to be a good girl one of these days. Maybe I need to remind you of the contract you signed.”