Burning Ember (34 page)

“Fuck!” Taz laughs, cups his jaw, and rubs it with his glove. His laugh comes out manic and unstable. “Damn, that one’s gonna leave a mark. Hey, maybe I can get her to kiss it better.”

Grumbling under his breath, Mav walks to the ropes. He says just loud enough for me to hear, “Try it, and Doc will be wirin’ your jaw shut.”

Taz finds his response hilarious.

I readjust the heavy bag on my shoulder and as I do, it knocks a wrench on a shelf and sends it clanging to the floor. I cringe as the noise echoes and both men turn toward me.

There’s no point in hiding anymore, so with my head down I trudge forward until I’m a few feet from the ring.

Taz leans with crossed arms on the top rope and peers down at me. “You wanna go a couple of rounds with me, little stray?” The side of his mouth lifts. “If it’s your first time, I’ll take it nice and easy on ya. Go as slow as you like. Don’t worry, it only stings for a sec.” His cunning smile tells me he’s not talking about boxing.

Rolling my eyes, I say to Mav, “I’m ready when you are.”

His eyes pierce me where I stand as they take me in. He blinks, but doesn’t say a thing. In fact, I’m beginning to doubt he heard me at all. His head is tilted down and he’s looking at me through those thick, black lashes, which make his eyes appear darker than normal. Bringing one glove up to his mouth, he bites the strings to loosen them while keeping his eyes on me.

“How about you throw a few with Mav? Or is it Luce? I’m so confused.” Taz grins and glances at Mav, then back to me.

I shake my head. “No. Pretty sure he’d hurt me.” Mav’s eyes narrow further at that comment.
Maybe because just a few hours ago he promised not to hurt you anymore.

“I’ll hold him while you get a couple good licks in,” Taz offers.

I can’t deny that hitting Mav, getting a little revenge, sounds satisfying
.
I smile a little to myself at the thought. I look up to see Mav scrutinizing my face. He lifts his hand and scrapes his thumbnail over his bottom lip. Meanwhile, his eyes run down my body and back up.

My core tightens and my nipples turn rock hard.

A wicked smile slides across his mouth and my heart quickens. “You want a piece of me, Doll?” His accent stretches his vowels and the gruffness of his voice sends a pleasant flutter through my lower abdomen.

Damn him. Even though my brain is screaming
YES
, I say, “Nope.”

Maybe it’d be better if I wait for him outside. The fresh air might help me keep dirty thoughts from running rampant through my mind.

“C’mon. Here’s your chance at a free shot. Time to let out some of that fire you keep under wraps,” says the devil’s pit bull.

“Fire?” The word has chills rising on my neck.

“That Irish temper, Doll,” Mav replies.

“Time to be real, little stray,” Taz adds.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask incredulously. “That I’m usually fake?”

They share a look, some kind of silent communication. When they look back at me, Taz smirks. “Why do you think he calls you, Doll?”

What?

A hot and heavy rock hits the bottom of my stomach. My gaze swings to Mav. “That’s why you call me Doll?” I knew it wasn’t a compliment. But I thought maybe, it was about my height.

Mav glares at Taz for a moment then his gaze swings to me. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not denying it, are you?” Grinding my teeth, I wait for his reply. His silence drives me to act. “One punch,” I say, dropping my bag to the floor. “If I hit you, you’re not going to do anything?”

The side of his mouth twitches as if to smile. “I won’t move a muscle.”

Taz helps me put on the gloves. I’m fired up and ready to lay into Mav until I turn around to face him. When I meet his eyes, I freeze as doubt circles through me.

What if this is a trick?

He steps closer. “Eye for an eye. Blood for blood. How shit works here. I owe you this, Doll. I spilt yours. Do your best to spill mine.”

Then I realize I’m forgetting one vital thing. I have no idea how to throw a punch. I mean, I get the mechanics, but I heard of people breaking their hands throwing a punch and the last thing I need is a broken hand.

Mav raises an eyebrow. “Change your mind?”

“I’ve never thrown a punch before.”

He peers over my shoulder, makes some noise in the back of his throat, then mutters, “I’ll show her.”

Taz snorts and chuckles.

Mav steps into my personal space. First, he straights my wrist. “Keep this straight and strong.” I do what he says. “Good. But it takes more than your fist and your arm to throw a punch.” Taking my fist, he guides it in slow motion to his damaged yet beautiful face. “See, that’s weak. But use your whole body . . .” He puts a hand on my stomach. “Tighten these muscles here.”

He doesn’t have to tell me. My muscles automatically contract as I fight not to show how much his touch affects me. His hand even over my shirt sends sparks of electricity firing through my nerve endings.

“Good.” Grabbing my hips, he twists my body forward. “Now put those together.” We do it together in slow motion. Three, four, and then five times, me pushing my fist out and him twisting my hips.

“Perfect, Doll.”

Perfect Doll.

Irritation pings through me at the nickname and its meaning. However, it’s quickly drowned out by the flames fanning out from his hands on me; the intoxicating scent of him that’s overwhelming my senses. This time, his scent isn’t cloaked by tobacco. It’s all him. His scent. His sweat. All Mav.

My gaze is drawn to the vein in his neck. It’s pulsing wildly, making me wonder if his heart is beating as erratically as mine is. My gaze ventures down again, this time to the tattoo sitting at eye level in front of me. It’s in the center of his delicious pec covered by golden skin. I read and reread the bible verse inked in small, cursive letters. I try and fail to understand the meaning of it. But it’s about darkness, light, and death. All the things I see when I look at him.

His hand cups the back of my neck. He squeezes once and puts his thumb under my chin so he can lift my face to meet his. His tongue comes out and sweeps against the cut on his lip, and my eyes follow. I’m drawn back to the kiss we shared and I remember in vivid detail the way his mouth felt against mine, demanding and hungry, soft and yet savage. Like he’s been famished for half a decade and I’m the only sustenance he needs to survive.

His breath washes over my cheek, sending a tremor of need down my body. “If you’re gonna hit me, Doll. You better do it now.” The huskiness of his voice has my eyes flying up to his.

“Why?”

“Because you’re lookin’ at me like I got somethin’ you need. I can’t fuckin’ stand here and not give it to you. Not when I want nothin’ more than another taste of your sweet mouth.”

His eyes dart behind me and back to my face. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck’all who sees me takin’ it, but you probably do. So hit me. Or I’ll be tastin’ you again, Doll. And I’m not likely to stop anytime soon.”

Birds take flight, going all different directions inside my belly. I stare up at him. Was that a threat or a promise?

His dark and intense gaze tells me it’s both. He backs up a step. “C’mon . . . Make this right between us. Hit me. Give it all you got.”

I mentally shake myself from the lust-filled daze he has me under. Yes, I want him, but I also want to give him back a small slice of the pain he’s thrown at me.

“Okay.” I firmly plant my feet on the mat. I practice my punch one more time slowly. After taking a deep breath, I prepare to launch my fist at his face. But I’m hesitant. He’s already bruised and beyond handsome, and hitting him feels wrong.

“Think of it as payback for me being a dick,” he says.

Nodding, I dig through my arsenal of bitter memories of what he’s put me through since arriving here. The insults. The death stares. The disgusting jobs I’ve had to do around the club. Him siccing Taz on me.

My anger builds.

Attacking me last night was the last straw and either I do this or I need to leave. Staying will only tell him and every other biker here, I’ll put up with the mistreatment I’ve been given. And I won’t. Not again. Not anymore.

I pull in a deep breath and launch my fist toward his face. The damn glove barely grazes his jaw.

I internally growl with frustration.
Dammit!
I get my one chance for some payback and I screw it up.
Ugh . . . Em.

“It’s all right. Try again,” he encourages.

I bite my lip.

“C’mon. Again.” His tone changes. Hardens.

Waving me forward, he grates out, “Get angry. Curse. Shout. Whatever. Just show me the part of you that’s not a fuckin’ mouse all the time.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he throws back.

Taz squeaks like a mouse behind me. I spin for a second and shoot him a dirty look, before rotating back to Mav.

Mav’s darkness is back. It’s hovering around him. He’s angry and I’m confused. Am I not the one being taunted and offended? Shouldn’t I be the one that’s pissed off?

“You do what we say when we say it. You’ve let me and some of the other brothers treat you like shit. You clean up after messy fuckin’ bikers and the whores that visit the club. You like that job?”

His words sting. Of course, I don’t like that job.

With all the sarcasm I can manage, I say, “Yeah, Mav. This is exactly what I dreamed of. I worked my
ass
off to get out of the hellhole I grew up in, because I wanted to come here and scrub cum off the floors. Clean up after
bikers
who are too drunk half the time to piss in the toilet.”

“Then why do you do it?”

Such a simple question. With no simple answer.

I shake my head.

“Why,
Doll
?” He sneers the name like he did that first day. It grates on my every nerve.

“Because I don’t have the luxury of picking and choosing what I do with my life right now. Unlike you, I’m trying to make the best of my situation. You’re not the only one trying to recover from a bad relationship. And at least I’m not sitting around sulking about it.”

Holy Hell. Did I just say that to him?

“Make the best of it? You mean, accept the shitty options you’ve been given.”

“What are you saying?”

“In a few days, you know what you’re gonna be? Our little slut. Is that what you want? To be a clubpiece? To be used and fucked and degraded and—”

“No!”

“But you’re going to, right? ‘Cause you need the money.”

I shake my head, trying to deny what we both know is true. “I told you I’d leave. You’re the one making me stay!”

“And go where? Go whore for someone else?” he growls. “Not fuckin’ happening.”

White-hot rage crawls up my neck like a live wire being hit with a jolt of electricity. I snarl. Yes, snarl. The sound comes from some place deep inside me. My fist feels like a slingshot as I hurl it through the air toward his face. I swear my bones crunch together as they connect with his solid jaw. Upon impact, his chin snaps to the side. But I keep going as I pound on his chest with both fists. “How dare you fucking judge me!”

He staggers back two steps.

“Like your life’s so perfect. You’re an asshole to everyone around you because you can’t cope with a break up. It’s been five . . . FIVE damn years, Mav. Get the fuck over her already.”

He tosses my hands off him like I’m nothing but a mosquito. “What are you doin’ here?” he snarls back.

“God, you’re a jerk. I can’t believe . . .”
I kissed you.

Moving forward, crowding into my personal space, he rasps, “What the fuck is a girl like you doing in a place like this, huh?” His chest bumps mine. “Why are you here, Doll?”

I bite my lip and shake my head.

“Why?” he shouts in my face and his voice echoes off the walls.

Throwing my arms wide, I yell, “Because it’s my only option. Out there, I have nothing, no one, and nowhere to go. Is that what you want to hear? Yes, I’m a stray. I’m homeless. Penniless. No, I don’t want to sleep with a clubhouse full of bikers or a bunch of scummy men I don’t know. But I’ll do what I need to do to survive! I have no other option.”

“Why can’t you go home?”

I wince and look away so I don’t have to feel his piercing eyes. “I just can’t.”

“Why?” When I move to leave, he grabs my arms and shakes me. “Why the fuck can’t you go home?”

I fight his hold but he keeps asking the same question over and over.
Why? Why? Why?
He won’t let me go and the more I fight him, the stronger his hold on me becomes. I’m so enraged that the words rush unguarded past my lips. “He’ll find me!”

“Who?” He leans down and peers into my face. “Who’ll find you?”

Horrified at the knowledge that I’ve said so much, I look anywhere but at him. But Mav grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes.

“Don’t clam up now, Doll. Come on. Tell me. Who’ll find you? Who are you runnin’ from?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I do, the last month with Warner flashes like a horror movie through my mind. Helplessness and fear ripple down my spine. A whimper escapes me and bile rises in my throat.

“Doll, tell me.” When I’m still silent he asks, “Your ex?”

I’m no longer in control of my body, because I nod without wanting to do so.

His tone drops low. “What’d he do to you?”

The iron box in my mind springs open and there’s no shutting it now. Mav wants to know everything. Fine. I tell him. I laugh bitterly, open my eyes, and meet his gaze. “You should ask what didn’t he do. What didn’t he take from me. Because the answer is my life, Mav. That’s the one thing I had left to lose and I wasn’t ready to part with it just yet.”

Mav’s face hardens. He gets my meaning because the muscle in his jaw begins to tick and his eyes swirl with emotion. Sadness. Regret. Fury. Pity.

I don’t want his fucking pity. Seeing his face riddled with it makes bubbling lava burn in my veins.

I force his hand away from my chin, and push him back. “What? Is the truth too ugly for you? Or are you just sorry that your friend won’t have the pleasure of taking my virginity?”

“Doll—”