Page 12 of Kodiak

“Yeah,” he simply answers with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve done some things in life that require me to decompress. I’ve found that there are only two things that help settle the darkness inside of me. Riding my motorcycle and backpacking until I find a spot that calls to me.”

As a man involved in a one-percenter motorcycle club, which according to the patch on the back of his cut they are, I can take a guess at some of the less than savory things he’s had to do in life. But with them working security at a signing event, it makes me wonder if his club is trying to go legit.

“Listen,” he says, stopping us as he turns his body to where he's looking down at me. “I'm not a good man. I'm not even gonna pretend like I am, but here's the thing, when I find someone important to me, I shield them from that part of me and my lifestyle to the best of my capabilities. If things go further than this night, I want you to know you have nothing to fear from me or be scared of any repercussions blowing back on you from our jobs or extracurricular activities.”

“Wouldn't be here if I didn't trust that you could keep me safe,” I answer, letting the honesty and conviction of my words pour outthrough my voice. “It’s good to know this connection I’m feeling between the two of us isn’t one-sided.”

“It isn’t. I do want you to know, however, that I can’t always be available when you need me, Luna. I’ll always be available to you if you pick up the phone, but I won’t always be in a place where I can drop things and head your way.” I get that. I’m a loner myself, it’s why my stories and characters become family—friends that I use to eliminate and ease the loneliness of my nights.

“I gathered that, Marcum,” I reassure him as we begin walking again. “I’ve done my fair share of research on motorcycle clubs. Had to so I could get as close to realistic issues clubs face with a twist of romance tossed in.”

“Sometime, I’d like to hear what you discovered, Moon.”

“Sometime, I’ll tell you,” I tease, glancing up at him beneath my lashes, I notice a grin spreading along his cheeks. “That is, if you’re a good boy.”

“I’m always a good boy,” he says, playing along. “Until it’s time for the man in me to surface. A woman doesn’t want a boy between the sheets, she wants a man who knows how to pleasure her.”

I begin fanning myself with my free hand, asking, “Is it me, or is it hot out here?”

“It’s a little humid,” he muses, leaning down and nipping the shell of my ear. “But that could be because you’re burning up for me.”

“Is that right?” I ask, pestering him. “Because I could’ve sworn I just felt a chill in the air.”

His fingertips frivolously graze my skin, traveling up and down my forearm before he smirks with gratification.

“Those are goosebumps, darlin’, and you don’t have them because you’re cold. It’s sexual tension, and it’s the same reason your nipples are hard as a rock.”

A gasp escapes my lips as I send him an accusatory stare. “How do you know that?”

We make it to an area you can tell upon first inspection hasn’t seen any activity outside of wildlife before he turns me to where I’m facing him and informs me, “Because I’m a man and a woman’s nipples are like a beacon inviting him home.” His eyes lift and capture mine as his fingers begin grazing along my waist and trekking upward until he pinches my distended nubs. “Any more questions?”

“No,” I breathlessly answer. “You’ve made your point.”

When he’s satisfied that he has me hanging on the edge of a carnal cliff, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and escorts me into a cavern that’s hidden by ivy and other foliage.

“Stay here for a second,” he orders before he lifts his phone out of his pocket and opens up the flashlight.

I vigilantly watch his shadow filled figure walk further inside and crouch down. It isn’t long before a lantern is switched on, illuminating the area while drowning the pitch black darkness and brightening the area.

Marcum shifts his body and lays the blanket down on top of a cot mattress. I can tell he comes here a lot seeing as he stores things here so he doesn’t have to carry them on his bike.

My vision stays stuck on him as he opens a plastic storage container with locking clips on the sides and pulls out a pillow, tossing it on the topside of the pad.

“If you have stuff here, why do you store and carry a blanket in your saddle bags?” I ask, my curiosity winning over keeping my mouth shut and simply enjoying this evening.

Instead of becoming frustrated with me like most men would, he patiently answers, “Because this isn’t always the place I go. It’s my favorite and the location I visit most, but like I told you earlier, I’m an explorer. I wander all over so I like to be prepared. I hate sleeping on grass, I wake up the next morning and am itchy.”

I begin scratching my arms.

I don’t know what it is, but subconsciously, someone mentions the word “itchy” and I feel prickly, the urge to rub my flesh is instantaneous.

“A true Boy Scout.”

“Never been one of those. I’m a survivalist,” he corrects, but not with any sort of malice or incrimination added to his timbre. “I was a nomad before settling down in Benbrook.”

Benbrook is a suburb of Frisco where the event was held. I know why they chose that location. Not only is it a beautiful town surrounded by lakes known for competitive bass and catfishing, but it’s a small town that has an old school mentality—you stick to your side of the fence and I’ll stick to mine. “Mind your business,” should be their motto. After all, it’s the way they live.

I understand how that aspect would be appealing to him and the rest of the Deviant Knights. That club name—rawr. I’mconsidering the fact that they may have chosen it to make a woman’s panties wet.

---