Page 5 of Raiden

I’m not back there.

I let out a strangled sigh that escapes sounding a fuck of a lot more like a whimper.

Lose yourself for a second in a place likethat, and you die, but I’m not dead. I’m still here. And over in my bed across from me is the devil I don’t know. The enemy. Mywife.

She’s sprawled out in a sea of golden hair and black leather, snoring loud enough to rival a goddamn chainsaw and the lumberjack powering it.

After years of forced sobriety, I’ll admit my tolerance isn’t as high as it used to be. It’s been over a year since I got out, but whatever drink I’ve had was for the pure enjoyment of tasting it because it represented choice and freedom.

I shake off the panic lingering and the sickness in my gut and get myself to my feet. The club’s quiet. Even a mess, I’ll betI’m in much better shape than most of my club brothers will be today. Bikers live hard and that means celebrating hard. Most of them likely just went to bed or passed out. The lounge is probably strewn with bodies. I had best get showered and make my way out there to cover up who and what I can before the kids start waking up. Usually it’s a kid free zone, but with my wedding yesterday there’ll be more than just my niece Penny staying.

I toss my ass into the small bathroom attached to my room and crank the shower to hot. My skin prickles when I step in and there’s that panic that wraps around my throat in a tight fist again. I learned fast that showers are a dangerous place. I can’t say that I’ve been able to relax in one ever since.

After Lark came back to Hart, she found out about my trouble sleeping. She’s been giving me a ton of natural crap to try to help. I’ve even taken some of it to humor her. I can’t tell her that I don’t sleep properly because I’ve conditioned myself to stay awake. It’s easier to stay alive that way. Still, she’s not stupid. She realizes what five years in a prison can do to a man.

I scrub myself furiously even though it makes my head boom, and my throat burn with acid. Shutting off the water and wrapping a thick black towel around my waist is a relief. I brush my teeth, giving my toothbrush a hard look because it’s not in the yellow plastic cup. I open the bathroom mirror, tuck it in there, and grab the bottle of ibuprofen.

It was a motherfucking toothbrush that almost killed me. I’ve hated touching the things since. It’s better where I can’t see it. I bang the mirror shut too hard and choke back a few of the painkillers with a mouthful of water from the tap.

My mood only blackens when I step out of the bathroom and find the enemy sitting on the edge of my bed, a goldengoddess so beautiful and alluring that any living man would want to strip her bare and sink his cock into her.

Thank fuck then that I’m barely half alive this morning.

She went to bed in her dress, but not her boots. Her legs are crossed at the knees, creamy and alluring. She’s rumpled and her thick black eyeliner is smudged, but that bad girl, pouty, leather clad vibe only makes my dick thunder.

Not so unalive then.

Her eyes shoot straight to my towel and darken.

The fact that she has the same strange green eyes as my prez and best friend, works to deflate my dick because thinking about Gray makes me think about Lark, which makes me think about them together.

They weren’t fucking around behind my back for years. It just happened once and then she removed herself from the situation so she wouldn’t hurt anyone. She declined to tell any of us she had his baby. No one knew until she was forced to come back because my mom was sick. It’s been hell for all of us. We lost our mom but came back together as a family through the tragedy. Lark had to admit the truth of her love for Gray when he was taken. She was ready to tear this whole place down. She found the queen in herself to get back her kind. It was hard to hold onto any hate towards either of them when they’d already suffered so much and came back together with such overwhelming love.

Doesn’t mean I’ve learned to stomach anyone touching my sister yet.

I shoot a death stare at Widow as I rehash the past few months in my mind. Thinking about it sparks an inferno of rage in my gut.

“Get off my bed and out of my room,” I command.

I’m built like a mountain and while I might not be as scary looking as some of the other brothers, I’m every bit as feral if provoked and fuck me, I’ve been poked one too many times. I hate what this woman represents and now I’mmarriedto her.

She rolls her eyes at me and stands in lazy slow motion. She stretches, the movement writhing down her curvy body. The clinging leather dress and that stupid vest only showcase her bombshell body. Her skin looks buttery soft and untouched by ink, which shouldn’t be a turn on. If she wasn’t so goddamn in your face annoying, she might be alright. She rides a bike, has said multiple times she knows how to shoot, and told Gray that she did martial arts for years when she was younger. She can take care of herself.

She’s a ten, but…

Christ, I could fill that stupid line in with so many things.

She collects her boots but takes her time about it. “Morning hubs.” She whips around and draws her eyes slowly and purposefully over the length of my naked torso.

Like Gray, I have our club’s angel logo with her bowed head and spread wings on my back. I was getting inked before I went away and I’ve been making up for lost time, going as often as possible to the place Gunner owns. He doesn’t do anything there other than check in with his scary as fuck presence every once in a while, but his artists are exceptionally talented. Twomen and three women rent rooms there. I had three of them working on my chest at the same time, so it was done quick.

Making up for lost years.

“You look like you could use a strong cup of coffee.”

I scowl like a devil who accidentally sat on his own pitchfork.

“No?” She hitches her shoulder up. “Espresso then. You probably enjoy it dark and bitter.”

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