MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories) (133 page)

I awoke to a very bright light shining in front of my closed eyelids. I opened my eyes, but it disappeared. I looked down at myself, realizing I was still in my day clothes and wondered why. Then I remembered. Tears started to trickle down my face instantly. I sniffed, rubbing them away with the back of my hand. It stung from wiping them away so much earlier, so I just let them fall. I let out a whimper.

“Why are you crying?” a mysterious voice asked, quizzically.

I gasped, nearly jumping out of my skin. I sat up, looking wildly around my dark room, seeing no one. My mouth hung open. Had I imagined the sound? Then I heard a chuckle. The voice belonged to a boy—young, like Greer, from what it sounded. I stood up, starting to search the room. “Who-who’s there?” I asked, not sure where to direct my question.

A pause and no answer. I relaxed, deciding that the trauma from today had just rendered me temporarily mad. “You answer my question first,” the voice replied, teasingly. I screamed and ran toward the door, tripping over something in the dark and falling to the floor. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my head on my bruised knees. That question was very loaded. I let out a sob. “N-no, I’m not all right.”  I felt something land on my hand. I looked up to see my handkerchief. He must have put it there. “Th-thank you.” I picked up the handkerchief and dabbed my eyes with it.             

“You’re welcome,” he murmured soothingly. He had a nice voice. It was actually helping to calm me down.

We sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a few minutes. I sat up and walked back over to my bed. I pulled back the covers and tucked myself back in, still sitting up. “You shouldn’t be in here, it’s not proper to visit a young lady at night unchaperoned. Besides, if Morna catches you, she’ll have your head.”

He chuckled again. “Thank you for your concern, but I won’t be caught,” he replied, cockily.

“Where are you?” I wasn’t sure why I was peppering him with questions when he should have been leaving.

“I told you—you have to answer my question first.”

I frowned, not wanting to talk about my father. “I guess I’ll never know, then.”

“Please tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” I recited.

“That’s ridiculous,” he countered. “Everyone you’ve ever met was once a stranger. Besides, I’m not a stranger.”

“You’re not?” I furrowed my brows, trying to place the voice to a face.

“We’ve met before,” he explained, dismissively.

“I think I would remember such a rude, nosy, arrogant boy like you!”

He barked a laugh. “Well, you don’t, but I remember you.”

“Then who are you?”

He paused, and I briefly thought he left. “A friend,” he said eventually.

“A friend?” I’d never had a friend before. I just had my family and Morna.

“Yes, if that’s what you wish.”

“Okay,” I replied, uncertain.

“And friends tell each other things . . . like why they’re upset.”

I looked down at my hands in the dark, the moonlight illuminating them through my window. “My father died today.”

The silence hung between us awkwardly. He hadn’t expected me to say that. “I’m sorry.” It sounded like he was apologizing for more than just what I was going through.

“It’s okay, I mean it’s not, it’s—”

“—devastating,” he finished for me.

“Yes and unreal.”

“My parents are dead, too.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. It was my turn to feel awkward. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. They’ve been dead for a very long time. I barely remember them.”

“That’s terrible.” I wanted to rub his back like Morna did to comfort me, but when I reached my hand out, it touched nothing but darkness. “Are you a ghost?”

“No.”

“Oh,” for some reason, I was disappointed.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

“Please don’t be sad.”

“I don’t think I know how to stop.”

“I can help you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but I can try.”

We talked for hours. He made me laugh and forget about my troubles. The first rays of sunlight started to stream through the window.

“I have to go.”

I felt a twinge of panic and disappointment. “Will I see you again?” Now that I had a friend, I didn’t want to go back to not having one. It was nice to talk to someone that wasn’t an authority figure.

“If you wish.”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll be back . . . Turn around.”

I did as I was told and closed my eyes. I heard the window creek and slam shut. I turned around quickly. The window was shut and the room was silent. Nothing was different, but for some reason, I felt a little bit better. I didn’t know who he was, but it was if my father sent him to comfort me.

  “Please tell me.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingertips brushing softly against me.

I exhaled shakily, trying to muster up the strength to utter the words. For some reason, saying them out loud was hard. It was as if saying it to someone, especially him, would make it more real, permanent. “I’m getting married . . .” I released it into the air on an exhale, hoping it would continue to travel in front of me and wouldn’t reach behind me.    

I heard his sharp intake of breath and then nothing. Tension permeated the room, and I wanted to take it back. His arms were rigid against me.  “When?”

                     “A month.” He sighed and let go of me, I felt him roll over and stand up. I felt cold without him and wrapped my arms around myself. “Are you still here?”

                     “Yes.”

                     “I’m sorry.”

                     “For what?” his voice was incredulous.

                     “I don’t know . . .” It felt like the right thing to say. He seemed upset. I scooted back in the bed where he had been lying only moments ago, which was still warm from his body heat. He was always so warm. My bedding smelled like him, like heather. “I don’t want to marry him . . .”

                     “You don’t?” He seemed surprised, almost happy.

                     “No, of course not!” I flushed at my own words as if he could read my mind for the reasons why. The reason was perfectly clear, besides the fact that I loathed Colin, there was the fact that my heart belonged to someone else and had since I was thirteen years old. Unfortunately, I didn’t know who, or what, he was. I didn’t even know his name or what he looked like . . . I just knew him as the voice in my head and later, the strong arms that held me.

                     I felt him sit down again on the edge of my bed, but he abruptly stood back up. I heard him pacing my room, hurriedly, like he was conflicted about something. He sighed, letting all of his breath escape in a big, frustrated burst. “Do you want to come with me?” he asked quietly.

                     I furrowed my brows, which I realized he couldn’t see. Go with him? The thought had never crossed my mind—neither had the thought of getting out of this marriage. As soon as Greer had told me the news, I had accepted my fate as sealed. The deal was done, the dowry already negotiated. This marriage would save my family, I had duties to uphold. Besides, I didn’t know where going with him would take me. “I can’t . . .” I replied, shakily.

                     “That’s not what I asked.”

                     “I know, but . . .”

                     “But what?” he growled. His tone startled me, he had never snapped at me like that. I supposed it was his way of lashing out from being rejected.

                     “But . . . I’ve never even seen your face . . .” He didn’t say anything, and I thought that was the end of this discussion. I didn’t believe he’d actually reveal himself to me—not after all this time.

                     “I’ll show you,” his voice was barely audible, but it made my heart lurch in anticipation. I was nervous. What if I didn’t want to know? What if he was a monster? I closed my eyes.

                     I could feel him standing in front of me, but I didn’t open my eyes to look at him. He reached down and grabbed my hands, swiftly pulling me into a sitting position and then he made me stand. He cupped my face in his hands and rested his forehead against mine. For the first time, I felt his breath against my face. It was intoxicating.  “Open your eyes,” he commanded.

                     I paused, holding onto the last few seconds of blissful ignorance and also afraid that if I looked, he would still disappear like before. Tentatively, I opened my eyes, looking up at him through my lashes and gasped.

He took a step back into a stream of moonlight so I could see him better. He was unbelievably handsome, even in the shadows of my room. He was tall with what seemed like green eyes. His hair was unruly and dark, but short and wavy. His jaw was chiseled and he had high cheekbones. I looked down at his arms, the ones that had held onto me so many nights while I talked to my imaginary friend. They looked as strong as they felt wrapped around me. He wasn’t imaginary anymore. He was real, tangible, and I tried to soak up as much of him as I could.

                     It was my turn to walk toward him. I reached up to him and traced the outline of his face—brow to temple, cheekbones, jawline.  I rested my thumb in the small cleft of his chin. He reached up to grab my hand from his face and my other one at my side. He laced his fingers with mine and held them between us. “There,” he said, finality in his tone. “Now you’ve seen me.”

                     He was staring at me with such intensity, his eyes dilated and hooded. I broke eye contact with him, looking down to evade the power of the moment. “Now I’ve seen you,” I said softly.

                     He let go of my hands and tilted my chin up, so I was looking at him again. He slowly leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips, cupping my head between his hands. I was surprised. He had never kissed me before—not a real kiss. It was everything I didn’t know I was missing. He pulled me close to him, and I braced my hands against his chest clad in a leather vest over a green tunic and white undershirt.

He removed lips from mine and let out a low hum. “Do you want to come with me?” he murmured. My eyes searched his, darting back and forth. He looked at me expectantly, his question fizzing between us. I parted my mouth, trying to formulate the words. He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. I nodded. “Isla, I need you to say the words,” he said sternly, urgency apparent in his voice.

“Yes,” I breathed, barely audible. He smiled a bright, boyish smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle. He kissed me again, this time with more force as if to knock all of my doubts out of my mind. I grasped the fabric of his shirt in my fists. Gone were the worries from before—my family duties, my impending marriage, not knowing where I’d be going with him, what he was, or what his name was . . . well that still mattered. I pulled away from him. “What’s your name?”

CHAPTER 3

FINN

I CHUCKLED AT HER SIMPLE QUESTION. IT SEEMED SO absurd that after all this time, all that we knew about each other, that she didn’t know the most basic things about me. Though, that wasn’t her fault. I had purposely kept these things from her. I had just thrown all my careful secrecy out the window. I was acting impulsively tonight.

                     “Finn,” I replied simply.

                     “Finn . . .” she said my name slowly, stretching out the single syllable like she was trying it out. She smiled her big, genuine grin that she reserved for things she really enjoyed. “I like that name.”

                     I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Now that I didn’t have to keep myself from her, I couldn’t keep my hands or lips off her. “Good, we have to go,” I broke away from her, grabbing her hand to pull her toward her window.

                     Her feet didn’t move and she held back. “What, now?” she asked, surprised at how fast I was moving.

                     I nodded. We had to do this now before I changed my mind, before she changed her mind, before reason reared its ugly, practical head. Before I remembered all the reasons this was a terrible, ill-conceived idea. “Yes, now.” I pulled her arm roughly, and she lurched forward.

                     “Wait.” My feet stopped and so did my heart. She had consented to be with me, something I had dreamed of for the five years since I met her but would never let myself actually consider a possibility. I was fully devoted to her, but only in the roles that she would allow me to fill. She had allowed me to enter this new role, undefined as it was. I was settling for rescuer for the time being. Had she changed her mind? “I need to put on my slippers.”

                     I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Of course.” I thought of something just then. “I’ll be right back.” Before she could say anything, I was walking quickly toward the window, which I swiftly jumped out of. I heard her gasp in fear. I landed gracefully on the ground and went about searching for what I was after.

Scanning the dark, wooded area outside of her home, I spotted one. I walked over to the pile of wood that was piled by a chopping block and selected a log. I looked back up at her bedroom window, considering how to get back up. I didn’t want to change into my fae form and frighten her away. I would withhold that information a little bit longer.

                     I looked at the tall tree that towered over her house. That would have to do. I swiftly climbed it and shimmied across the branch closest to her window (which was still open). I jumped effortlessly inside, startling Isla. Her mouth formed a surprised ‘oh,’ presumably at how quickly I had returned. I ignored her confusion—we didn’t have time for questions. “Did you find your slippers?” I asked.

                     She nodded, swallowing. “I’m not dressed . . .” She looked down at her night chemise, which was draped delectably over her petite frame, cinching at the waist.

                     I walked toward her and touched her face again. “You look beautiful.” She flushed. I removed my hand from her and walked the log over to her bed, touching it with my fingertips until it glowed gold. When I let go, it faded back to its gray, wooden appearance. I pulled the covers over it and turned back to Isla who was regarding me quizzically, but said nothing. “Come,” I grabbed her hand again and began pulling her toward the window.

                     She looked down at the ground with wide eyes. “How . . .” she started.

                     “Do you trust me?” I asked.

                     She cocked her head at me, her lips parted to show her front teeth. “What?”

                     “Do you trust me?” I repeated, holding out my hand to her again.

                     She blinked. “Yes,” her tone was firm. She grabbed my hand, she was sure.

                     I swiftly scooped her up so she was cradled in my arms. I hopped up onto the windowsill and paused. “Hold on.” She threw her arms around my neck and buried her face into my chest, whimpering softly. I kissed the top of her head. “Don’t scream,” I warned. I stepped off the ledge and quickly descended to the ground, landing softly.

Isla’s arms had tightened around my neck during the descent. She slowly lifted her head from my chest, her face ghostly white. I frowned. I didn’t want to scare her. “Do you want me to carry you, or do you want to walk for now? It’s going to be a long walk.” It wasn’t that long of a trip when I flew, but that wasn’t an option for her.

                     “I’ll walk,” she answered, her voice shaky from the fall. I carefully put her down, holding onto her until I was sure her knees weren’t going to buckle. She smiled up at me, breathless.

I grasped her hand in mine and started walking forward, trying to get her as far away from this place as quickly as I could. “Don’t look back,” I instructed. She squeezed my hand to let me know that she understood.

ISLA

                     I followed him in a semi-trance-like state. None of this felt real, which was partially why I was going through with it. I suspected any minute, Morna would be rapping on my bedroom door, bellowing for me to wake up.

I had convinced myself so many time in my head that he, Finn—assigning him an actual identity still felt so foreign to me—was just a figment of my imagination, a way for my brain to cope with the loss of my father. To have him here, now, leading me by the hand through the dark woods in the middle of the night was more than surreal. I felt that he could lead me anywhere right now, to the ends of the earth, even, and I would gladly follow him.

Ever since I told him about my impending marriage, he had been moving so quickly, acting so rashly. It was very unlike the boy who visited me at night who was usually careful and rational. He was pulling me through the thickets of trees rapidly; I had to almost run to keep up with him. Our arms were fully extended between us.

I tried to look down at my feet to keep from falling and could swear that I saw shimmering gold dust fly up from beneath Finn’s feet. I looked up and acted like I hadn’t seen anything.

“Slow down,” I begged. He stopped immediately, and I crashed into him. “Oomph!” He grabbed the sides of both of my arms to steady me.

“Sorry,” he took a deep breath as if to try to slow himself down. “I just want to get you . . . Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you?”

I was panting, and I felt a painful stitch forming in my side. He was so much taller than me and generally faster. We were also basically wandering around in pure darkness. I nodded. “Okay.”

He smiled, and I melted, simultaneously a little bitter that he had been keeping that smile from me for all these years. He leaned down and scooped me up swiftly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said playfully. He was evading the question, something I’d witnessed him doing countless times. I wasn’t sure why he was doing it now. Surely, there couldn’t be many more secrets between us . . . besides what he was.

It had been obvious early on in my friendship with Finn that he wasn’t a normal boy. A normal boy wouldn’t be able to sneak out in the middle of the night and climb up a to my second floor bedroom with ease. He wouldn’t be able to jump out my window without injury or walk at the speed that he was currently walking. This was all without the factor that I hadn’t laid eyes on him until tonight—though I had often tried to find him in the darkness of my room. Normal boys weren’t invisible, and they didn’t disappear at the blink of an eye.              

                     I kept calling him a boy, though I knew that wasn’t what he was. I knew he was twenty years old—two years older than I was. I also didn’t know if that’s what they called adolescents in whatever he was.

                     With nothing else to do, I gazed at what I could make out around me. The trees this deep in the woods were wild. The roots of each tree tangled with its neighbors’, visible above ground. Because I couldn’t see very far ahead of me and because of the abundance of trees, our journey seemed endless. Pools of water littered our path, visible when the light from the moon bounced off the smooth, dark surface. I shivered, now cold since I wasn’t keeping my body warm from trying to keep up with Finn.

                     “Cold? I nodded. He kissed me on the forehead. “We’ll be there soon.”

                     “I still don’t know where we’re going.”

                     “Isn’t it more fun this way?”

                     “Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Tons of fun.”

                     “We’re going to where I live,” he revealed.

                     My heart quickened, thinking I was finally going to get some details. “Which is . . .?”

                     “Still a wee way’s off.” I scowled. He laughed. Could he see my face clearly in the dark?

I looked around me again, suddenly realizing that we were no longer under a canopy of trees. We were in an open clearing covered in rocky hills and more pools of water. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where we were in the dark.

I heard the gentle, steady rushing of water. We approached a very large body of water that had a U-shaped arch surrounding part of the perimeter. Parts of the water seemed to be glowing a luminous blueish-green color in the dark. In the middle of that arch was a large waterfall.

“It’s beautiful,” I mused, looking up at Finn to gauge his reaction. He seemed unfazed—like a place like this was an everyday feature for him.

He stopped at the edge of the water, I assumed to admire the view. “We’re going to have to get in.”

I looked up at him in alarm. “In the water?”

He nodded, and I tensed. “I’m sorry, it’s the only way to get there.”

“I can’t swim,” I admitted, unsure.

“It’s not deep.” He carried me across the pond, the water only going up as high as his knees. We neared the waterfall, and I could see that there was a small hole behind it. “I have to set you down, we have to crawl through the hole.” He gave me an apologetic half smile.

I gaped at him in horror, and he squeezed my hand. “Trust me.” I nodded, and he gently set me down.

I squealed as the frigid water drenched the bottom of my nightgown and flooded my slippers. “It’s-s s-so cold.”

He grabbed my hand again, which caused me to warm right up. He led me behind the waterfall, the mist catching in my hair in little beads. I looked down in the hole we were supposed to go through. It was dark. “Watch your head when you go through. The top is very low and sharp.”

My eyes widened. “Aren’t you going in first?”

He shook his head. “I’m going in behind you, so I can keep an eye on you. You just have to go straight.”

I hesitated. “It’s dark.”

He pulled me forward and pressed his lips against mine again. “I’ll be right behind you. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured against my mouth. The implications of his words covered more than this tiny cave.

I sunk down to my knees, the moving water coming from the hole rushing down the front of my nightgown. It whapped me in the face and I sputtered, swallowing some. I coughed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, ushering me forward.

I began crawling through the tiny hole, which was too narrow to move anywhere but straight. I raised my head slightly, and I hit the rocky ceiling of the cave. “Ow,” I cried.

“Keep your head down,” Finn warned from right behind me.

I was sure the top of my head was bleeding, but I kept moving forward, the palms of my hands and my knees getting scrapped up from the bottom of the cave. I could feel parts of my gown ripping away from getting caught on rocks and from brushing up against the sides of the narrow cave. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, willing myself to move forward as quickly as I could. It would all be over soon.

I snapped my eyes open when I felt something stringy and damp between my fingers. Grass. I looked up and was met with a brightly lit forest encapsulated inside the confines of a tall cavern. The light was coming from a large bonfire that stood about fifty feet away. I shimmied the rest of the way out of the cave onto the grassy knoll and stood up, still staring up. I felt Finn exit the cave behind me, but I didn’t look back. My eyes were experiencing a sensory overload.

Dozens of people dressed in green attire were dancing, laughing, and running around the forest and fire. Looking up, I could see that in the rows of trees were little houses perched between the mighty branches. Wooden bridges crisscrossed from one tree to the other over each other like a roadway in the sky. Large, sparkling, gold fireflies swirled through the trees.

“What is this place?” I asked, in awe. I looked over at Finn who was standing beside me with his jaw clenched, deep in thought. He seemed nervous. His hair looked bronze in the light, and his eyes were emerald.

“It’s my home.”

He grabbed my hand again and pulled me forward, garnering the attention of some of the revelers. They regarded me with equal parts curiosity and apprehension. I suddenly became very aware of my appearance. I was soaking wet, cut up, and my white chemise was ripped and covered in mud. I bowed my head, avoiding the gaze of these strangers.