Page 12 of Monster's Madhouse
She wrapped her arms around herself, stepping closer. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, Drifter. But I know I can’t lose you. Please, just give me a chance.”
His chest squeezed so tight it hurt. God, she was beautiful like this—raw, wrecked, standing in his shirt like she belonged here with him. He should’ve told her to go back to her room. He should’ve sent her away. Drifter knew that she belonged to Monster now, but for some reason, none of that seemed to matter. It was as though the world had stopped turning, and it was just the two of them left in existence.
It only took two strides to close the space between them. His hands cupped her face, his mouth crushing hers in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. She whimpered against him, fisting his shirt as he backed her into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.
“Goddamn you,” he rasped against her lips, his hands shoving beneath the thin cotton to find bare skin. “You drive me out of my fucking mind.”
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, tears mixing with her breathless pleas as his mouth trailed down her throat. “I just—I need you, Drifter.”
The sound of it broke something loose deep inside him. He ripped the shirt over her head, drank her in, then eased her down into his bed. His hand lingered against her cheek, his voice low and harsh.
“Mine tonight,” he swore. “Every damn inch of you.”
When she didn’t argue, he took her—slow at first, savoring every gasp, every desperate clutch of her hands. Her body was warm, perfect, wrapped tight around him, and the way she sobbed his name had him teetering on the edge from the start. He buried himself deeper, faster, harder, claiming her in everyway he knew how. Drifter forgot that his friend had already laid claim to Blitz. He meant what he said—tonight she belonged to him. They could worry about the rest in the morning.
When she shattered beneath him, crying his name, he followed with a guttural groan, grinding into her as if he could anchor himself inside her. Afterward, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Her head rested on his chest, her breath uneven, her skin damp with sweat and tears. He pulled her closer, pressed his lips to her hair, his arm a steel band around her.
Tomorrow, there’d be questions, fallout, maybe even a war brewing between him and Monster. But tonight, in his house, in his bed—she was his.
Blitz
Blitz sat at the kitchen table in Drifter’s house, hands curled around the mug of coffee she hadn’t even touched. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the tick of the clock on the wall. She felt the tension before she saw it—the way the air shifted when Monster walked in.
Drifter had let him in without a word, and now both men stood in the kitchen with her, heavy and unreadable. She braced herself for shouting, for jealousy boiling over, but instead Drifter jerked his chin toward the table.
“Sit. We need to talk,” Drifter said to Monster. It sounded more like a demand than a request, and she wondered if the big biker would do as he was told. Monster didn’t seem the type of man who took orders from anyone.
Monster’s eyes flicked to her before he pulled out the chair opposite hers. He looked tired—more tired than she’d ever seen him, shadows under his eyes, shoulders heavier than usual. Drifter leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, silent but watchful.
Blitz swallowed. “Okay, talk about what?”
Monster’s gaze dropped to the table. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his rough voice broke the silence. “My wife’s name was Heather.” Blitz’s chest tightened, her hands freezing around the mug. “She died five years ago when she ran off the road during a thunderstorm. She was pregnant and we were going to have a little girl, but I didn’t know that at the time. The accident was my fault. I should have driven her to the OB appointment, but I was consumed with having to work to make money for our family. Babies need so much stuff. I should have driven her, but I was more worried about how we were going to pay for the crib. I lost them both, and it could have all been prevented.”
He dragged a hand over his face, but it didn’t hide the raw ache in his eyes. “I buried them both the same day. That’s when I met Drifter. I used his funeral home to handle the arrangements for me. Hell, he did it all because I was useless by that point. I bought Monster’s Madhouse and turned it into our club. That club and my friendship with Drifter were the only two things to keep me sane.”
The lump in Blitz’s throat burned hot, tears stinging her eyes. “Monster,” she whispered, reaching across the table before stopping short, unsure if he’d even want her touch.
Drifter’s voice came next, low and steady, though she caught the flicker of something like pain in his expression. “I was married once, too. I was nineteen years old, and I thought I knew what love was.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Six weeks in, she packed up and left. No note. Just gone.”
Blitz’s brows pulled together. “Why?”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug that looked like it weighed a thousand pounds. “Guess she realized I wasn’t enough. Or maybe I married her for the wrong reasons. I grew up without love, without anyone giving a damn about me, and I thoughtmaybe if I tied someone down, I’d never have to feel that again. Turns out you can’t force somebody to love you back.”
The silence after his confession was thick, heavy with things none of them knew how to say. Blitz sat back, her heart aching for both of them—for what they’d lost, for the scars they still carried.
“We’re telling you this because you have a right to know why we refused to share you. We weren’t sure if that was even possible,” Monster said. “We’re both so damaged, we didn’t want to hurt you, Blitz.”
She blinked against the tears threatening to fall, her voice barely a whisper. “I know what that feels like. Growing up without love.” Both men looked at her then, like they hadn’t expected her to speak.
“I grew up in the foster system, and I learned quickly not to expect anything permanent, not to get attached. That’s why—" She hesitated, shame flooding her chest, but she forced the words out. “That’s why I let Reid into my life. He paid attention to me. He made me feel seen. I thought maybe it was real. By the time I figured out it wasn’t, that he was dangerous, it was too late.” Her voice cracked. “And now he’s here, in this town, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Monster swore under his breath, fists tightening on the table. Drifter pushed away from the counter, his arms finally dropping, his jaw set. “Then we stop him,” Drifter said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Monster nodded, his gaze burning into hers. “You’re not alone anymore, Blitz. You got us. Both of us.”
Her throat tightened as she looked between them—two men haunted by their pasts, vowing to protect her despite her mistakes. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt something close to hope—and that scared the hell out of her.
Josie hadn’t shown up at the house after school, as she usually did, and Blitz was worried. It had been a few days with no sight or word from Reid, and she worried that he was just waiting for his chance. “She’s still not home,” she told Drifter, as she walked into the kitchen.
