Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC) (30 page)

He tightened his arms. “Yeah, I’m still here,” he rasped. “And I’d die for you, firefly.”

I held his eyes, even though it caused me physical pain to see the devotion, the truth in them. “Don’t say that,” I whispered. “Anyone can promise death. To die for someone is a split-second decision, an instant. I don’t want you to die.” The thought of a world without him turned my tongue to dust. How close to reality that had been. Because of me. “I don’t want you to die for me. I want you to live. Make a conscious decision every day. That’s so much harder. Means so much more, to brave the shit of this world and keep going. That’s it.”

He kissed my head. “Okay, I’ll live. Only if you make that same promise.”

I stared at him. “Okay, I promise.”

Or I’d try my best.

“
T
he demons are back
and stronger than ever. They are looking for a fight. Looking to win. And this time, I might just let them.”

-K.C.W

It was Sunday night, and we were at Evie and Steg’s.

And I was drowning.

The entire night, I was wrapped in the warm glow of the unlikely family. And there was a lot. In addition to Gwen, Amy, Mia, and Lily and their hubbies, there was Rosie, her friends, Lucy and Ashley, and about the whole freaking club. And me and Gabriel.

Evie and Steg had a huge fucking compound out on a plot of land. They needed it, to fit everyone.

And everyone fit. Literally and figuratively.

Except me.

Because I was embraced in the warmth at the same time as the ice settled over my insides. The dirt.

Gabriel’s arms around me were almost too much to bear. I’d come so far, but I felt like a rubber band that had snapped back into its original form.

I lasted through the whole night, somehow.

Then, like the universe was giving me a sign, Gabriel pulled me away from Gwen and Amy, who I’d been chatting with, playing my part to.

“You okay, Becky?” he asked, frowning at me.

“Peachy,” I lied, doing my best not to flinch away from the simple touch.

He didn’t seem convinced but nodded anyway. “We’ve got some club shit to do. You okay if Rosie takes you home?”

Home.

That wasn’t real.

Just another place I didn’t fit.

I couldn’t speak so I nodded.

“I shouldn’t be too late,” he promised.

I nodded again.

He frowned once more, kissed my head, and left.

And when Rosie dropped me ‘home,’ I got straight in my car and looked for something.

Nothing.

* * *

I
was staring at it
. Or it was staring at me. I wasn’t sure which. All I knew was that its presence, its fucking allure, filled up the entire room and I couldn’t actually move.

I was terrified of moving.

Because if I did, I knew exactly what I’d do.

Without hesitation.

I’d fall headfirst into the fire that I’d only just escaped.

The door opened and closed and the sound of motorcycle boots wafted into my muffled ears.

I felt him enter the room but didn’t look up.

“Hey, babe, what you starin’ at so intently? Trying to move something with the power of your mind? Waste of time. Telekinesis is something that manifests when you’re a kid. Trust me, I already looked it up on—” I’m guessing he stopped because he saw the syringe full of heroin sitting on the coffee table.

Inches away from me.

My hand twitched. Even with him a few feet away. Him. The man who promised salvation.

Salvation and damnation within my reach, and I couldn’t move because I was scared of what I would choose.

Or what would choose me.

I expected him to lose it. To transform into that man I knew lurked underneath the façade that droned on about telekinesis.

He didn’t say a word but his rage filled the room, mingling with the presence of the heroin and tasting bitter as I sucked air in.

His boots echoed as he rounded the coffee table and came to sit next to me. He didn’t touch me, just sat there, right there, resting his elbows on his knees and staring in the same direction as me.

I was jealous. His stare was a choice. Mine was not. It was like being up on stage before the true nightmare began and having that magnetic force pulling my attention to him. This wasn’t natural chemistry, nature trying to yank me closer to something that promised light. No, this was something wholly unnatural that I’d chosen and would have that seducing pull to venture back down that dark path.

The allure of nothing.

My hand twitched again.

Nothing. No pain. No memories. No nightmare. No filth. I wouldn’t feel trapped under my own tarnished skin.

There’d be nothing.

A tanned, tattooed hand settled over mine, encompassing my small pale one in its strong grip.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

If I got nothing, then that meant no Gabriel. No stupid jokes about penguin’s knees. No soulful glances. No falling asleep in his arms and feeling safer than ever. No chance of anything… more.

I stood, my decision made.

Gabriel stiffened and I bet he itched to stand too, to stop me. He stayed. I picked up the junk I’d gotten off one of my old dealers. Then I dropped it to the ground and crushed it under my combat boot.

Out of the corner of my eye, Gabriel’s entire body sagged with relief. Mine did not.

He stood, slowly coming to stand in front of me, his face etched in stone. “Why?” he asked. There was no judgment in his voice, not an ounce.

“Tonight,” I replied, my voice thick. “Everyone was just so… right. They fit.”

Gabriel’s eyes flared. “You fit too.” It was almost a growl.

I shook my head, stepping back as my emotions whirled in my stomach.

“I’m never going to be this old lady version of Mary Sue all your brothers seem to have,” I said, pacing the room before stopping in front of him. “Birds don’t help me dress in the morning, and I don’t wake up looking like a supermodel. I wake up looking like a ‘before’ picture on
Extreme Makeover
, or a swamp creature, depending on the hair situation. I don’t have a fancy designer wardrobe or some strange superpower to wear white while rearing sticky-handed toddlers. I don’t like toddlers. Or kids.” I started pacing again. “I don’t smile at people for no reason. I don’t like
people
. I’m pissed off at the world most of the time, and I just can’t find it in me to make the effort with people I don’t think are worth my time. A lot of people think I’m a bitch.” I gave his amused face a meaningful look. “
A lot
. When I get PMS, I’ll either cry at an insurance commercial or seriously consider murder over someone if I don’t like the way they breathe. There’s no in-between.” Lucky grinned at that and I ignored it. I had to. “I’m not funny or quirky or….” I searched for the word and somehow, something in me broke. “
Clean
,” I said finally. “It’s ironic really, that that’s the name for being sober. Clean.” It even tasted bitter on my tongue. I laughed a humorless laugh. “It’s a sick joke. I’m not clean. I’m so covered in filth, in dirt, that the word shouldn’t be used in a sentence next to my name. I’m broken. Used. Tarnished,” I listed in a detached tone. “I’m so fucked-up even your most ruthless brother looks well-adjusted next to me.” I laughed again. “I’m too dirty for even the outlaws.”

My laughter stopped and I gazed up at Lucky’s tight form. The amused look was wiped from his face and it was taut. His fists were balled at his sides. I took it in, then continued.

“You deserve Mary Sue,” I whispered, my voice finally cracking. “You deserve someone who wasn’t broken the moment she was brought into the world. Someone who wasn’t born dirty. Someone who had their innocence stolen before she knew to protect it. Someone who didn’t get corrupted, defiled before she even knew what was happening.” I sucked in a breath. “Someone who didn’t take her clothes off for filthy men. Who didn’t shoot filth into her veins as if the dirt covering her soul wasn’t thick enough before that. Someone who wasn’t….” My mind ventured somewhere even I wasn’t strong enough to go. I took a deep breath. “Someone who wasn’t
raped.
Repeatedly. Raped and was too high to even care,” I spat out the words, like maybe if I said them, they’d stop torturing my soul, bouncing in my head, taunting me. Lucky’s body flinched each time I said that ugly word, as if it were a bullet piercing his skin. “Do you know what I was thinking about while they were doing
that
?” I asked, trying to ignore the way rage had seeped into the air and seemed to thicken it, turning it into something to swallow and not breathe. Something bitter. I’d had experience with bitter—it was my life—so I sucked in a breath. “
Nothing
. Nothing except my next hit. Except the next time I could chase away the filth and fill it with the void.”

“Stop,” he growled. His head jerked up and I flinched when I saw wetness in his eyes. “You need to stop fucking talking,” he commanded. I never thought pain could manifest in one word. Encompass it. Until that moment. I never thought I’d feel fear either, not until that moment. Terror choked me as I belatedly realized what I’d done. Laid my broken, used, ugly soul right at his beautiful feet. I’d done it. Presented him with the true me. Now he would rear away in disgust. I felt physically sick at the thought of losing him. I welcomed the loss of my left arm before that.

He came forward, yanking me to his body. “None of that is true,” he growled. “None of it. That shit that happened to you, it’s the stuff of fuckin’ nightmares. I can’t take it away, but I can show you, tell you every single day how beautiful, how clean you are. Always have been.” He paused. “And you were, even when I first saw you, strugglin’ with demons I couldn’t see, you were breathtaking. You were like autumn. I was so caught up in your beauty, the fuckin’ colors.” He touched my cropped hair. “I was so fixated on that shit that I didn’t see that you were withering away. Thank fuck you made it through to summer, baby.”

I flinched at his words. “Is this summer?” I asked in a flat voice. “Despite everything I was before, despite how broken and totally fucked-up I was, I was always
alive
. I always had some sort of spark, even at the depth of my addiction. Even lying in that hospital bed after I’d almost killed myself, I had fight left. Not a lot but enough. Something. Now I don’t feel it, the fight, the zest. I just feel tired. So fucking tired of fighting. Of everything. I’m not going to swallow a bottle of painkillers or anything, but I just can’t fight anymore. Even if I could, there’s nothing to fight. Just darkness. You can’t punch a shadow. So I don’t know what I am, because I’m not living. And in the absence of life, there’s death. Not the six-feet-under kind, but something different, something worse.”

He clutched my face, pulling our foreheads together. “No, babe, in the absence of life, there’s fuckin’
love
,” he rasped. “The love I got for you, it’s gonna burn well after I’m in the ground, till the world turns to dust,” he promised. “You feel like you’ve lost your fight for now? I say for now ’cause I know this shit is temporary. That you’re gonna come back to me, light up my world again. Find your zest. But for now, you don’t want to fight? I’ve got enough fight for the both of us. I’ll fight for you, firefly. I’ll never be too tired, too old, or too fuckin’ anything for that. I’ll fight for you till my last breath. Or until you’re ready to fight for yourself again.”

I should have said no to that. To someone fighting my battles when he had his own to focus on. But I was weak in that moment, having fought the hardest one, crushing the syringe under my feet.

“Okay,” I whispered.

His body sagged and his arms tightened around me.

“I need you to come somewhere tomorrow,” I said to his chest.

“Anywhere.”

He was right on that. And since he’d already ridden to hell with me, group sessions should be a breeze.

* * *

I
stood
at the front of the room, the weight of the attention on me almost too much to bear. It wasn’t that I wasn’t used to people looking at me. I fricking danced on a stage naked for a living. I was used to it. But I’d never been naked, really naked, in front of anyone but Gabriel. Even then I had a film over my true self so he didn’t see the raw fucking mess I was when I was stripped to the core.

I didn’t even let myself inspect that.

But there I was, in a room full of strangers, except Gage and Gabriel, stripped, to the core.

Nothing had ever been so fucking terrifying in my life.

I swallowed, finding the strength from the man who I’d refused to let give it to me, until now. My gaze touched on Gage. His face was impassive but he gave me a small nod. I nodded back.

“Nat introduced me to it all,” I said, not knowing where to start, but the beginning seemed best. Not the real, ugly beginning—I wasn’t ready for that—but one of the beginnings. “The drug scene,” I continued, scanning the room but not really seeing anyone. Instead I saw the back room of the club and Nat grinning while handing me a little white pill. “She did it in a way that made it seem like nothing, no big deal, no worries. Like the opinion I’d had on drugs my entire adult life had been misplaced and they weren’t as serious as I’d built them up in my head. Like I was only now just getting in on the secret that everyone but me knew. Drugs were okay.” That night, that first night, I got it. This was how people got through life. I’d been stupidly naive in thinking anyone could get through it sober.