Page 15 of The Biker's Captive
Oh, that's a good question. Because I don't really know. All my life I've been going, going, going. It was always my mom and me, on the road from one small town to the next, Mom picking up odd jobs here and there. Until I turned eighteen.
I woke up the day after my birthday to find her gone. She left a note saying that I was an adult now, and it was time for her to be on her own.
I didn’t try to catch up with her. I was too mad. It took me a long time to want to track her down. And when I did, it was too late.
"I was going to visit my mother's grave."
The hard mask Pans’s been wearing since he brought me the food disintegrates, and a softness comes into his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I've been living on my own for the last three years. I've gotten used to it. My mother was a free spirit, and I always knew she would leave me one day. I’m still coming to grips with the fact that she's left, left. Left this world for good, you know what I mean?”
There’s the sting of tears in my eyes, and I blink them back. I've done my share of crying for my mom, and I know it's not what she'd want.
Pans sets a hand on my shoulder, and heat immediately surges through my body.
"Do you have any other family; anywhere else you can go?"
I shake my head.
"Everything I owned was in the back of that car. I was going to look for seasonal work in Southern California.”
“You're going to pick fruit?” Pans sounds surprised.
“Why not?” I stick my chin out defiantly. “I did it with Mom when I was younger. I was going to go for the season. Maybe stay, maybe move on."
“Just because your mother lived a certain way doesn’t mean you have to, Willow.”
I turn away. I can't bear the intense look Pans gives me, as if he can see into my soul and see the emptiness there.
Because the truth is I've yearned to be a part of something for so long. I hated the way we moved around all the time, but I don’t know anything else. I don’t know how to stay.
"I'm sorry, Willow," he says as I swipe at a tear. God damn this man for bringing up so many emotions.
His fingers brush my cheek, wiping away the last of my tears. His touch is warm, and I close my eyes. I lean my chin into the palm of his hand, and he cups my face.
I take his other hand, and without thinking bring it to my lips, brushing them over the scarred skin.
"Willow." It comes out choked, like a warning, and when I open my eyes there's a tortured look on his face.
I turn his hand over to the unblemished skin and press my lips to his wrist, feeling his pulse jump under my kiss.
"You don't know what you're unleashing," he says.
His grip tightens on my chin, and it sends a shiver all the way down my spine. My lady parts thrum as he caresses my throat.
"There's something inside me, something dark." His fingers dig into the soft skin of my throat. "I cannot unleash that on you."
His words are tight with restraint, and knowing how much he’s fighting it turns me on all the more.
I clench my thighs together, wondering if he knows the affect he's having on me. Heat surges inside me as his thumb scraps over my throat. I part my lips, waiting for the kiss.
When it comes, it's like a bolt of electricity shooting between us. My veins come alive. My blood is on fire. I feel the energy of this man, the darkness inside him fighting to get out. And I want it. I want to feel its power.
His hands slide down my neck and his fingers close around my throat; his grip tightens, and I gasp in his mouth as new sensations course through my body.
The gasp startles him, and Pans drops his hold on me and springs off the bed.
