As I approach, the right-hand door is already open from when Void entered, so I walk through the dimly lit bunker. Even though it’s late at night, we still don’t light up the place. We keep it lit enough to see, but still dull enough that it doesn’t affect my mood.
My brothers understand, but some of the other chapters think I’m strange. They don’t know where my love of the dark comes from.
They don’t know me.
They don’t know my past.
They don’t need to.
The ones who do, understand.
That’s all that matters.
Eva is a lightweight in my arms, and as I take her inside, the clubhouse is in full swing. Music blasts from the speakers, unsettling my damn nerves. I glance down, making sure she isn’t waking, but she just cuddles into me further as I turn right for the hallway. I notice everyone watching me with her, but honestly, I don’t give two shits about what they think.
I’m Nycto, President of the Tampa Royal Bastards, and I’ll do what I fucking want.
Anytime I fucking want.
And right now, I want Eva locked away in my room.
As I enter the hall, I make my way for the first bedroom. Mine’s closest to the exit because I need to be the first call to action if shit hits the fan. Reaching my door, I fumble with the handle, somehow opening it with her still in my arms. I walk through, the noise of the outside quieting down with the reinforced walls. The red LED night light is on sending a deep orange hue around my room. It lights up Eva’s face, making her seem more like a devil than the angel I know she is. The thought sends a rush of excitement through me as I walk her to my bed. The pedestal fan spins slowly, sending a slight breeze through the room. With no windows and the Tampa heat, it gets stuffy in here quickly, but I don’t mind a little humidity.
Lying her down on my black sheets, I place her head carefully on my pillow. My Adam’s apple bobs up and down as I take in the fact a woman is on my bed. The thought unsettles me for a moment, so I turn, walking to my door, making sure to lock it.
I spin back to face her.
The sight nearly knocks me off my feet.
Her dark auburn hair fans out over the crisp black pillowcase.
I stand back, watching her, taking her in. Every detail of her face. Every freckle. Every imperfection only making her more perfect.
She could fast become an obsession.
What am I saying—she is an obsession.
I might have saved her from Andrés, but who will save her from me?
Chapter Four
EVA
My head’s a fog, my stomach churns, and I’m all kinds of out of it. A very dull thumping of music drones in the background as my memory comes crashing back to me.
I was taken.
Abducted.
Ivy was torn away from me.
My eyes fling open, and the biker who took me stares at me from the other side of some weird room. I sit up in a hurry, scrambling back on the bed to get away from him. The red lighting in the room makes me feel like I’m in some kind of dungeon, or worse, a damn brothel.
Oh God, is that where I’ve been taken?
His hands come up in a placating manner, but it doesn’t soothe me.
I’m terrified.
“Where am I?”
He exhales, taking a step closer, but I don’t back away this time.
“You’re in my room.”
Gulping a lump down my throat, my eyes shift around the medium-size space. Because the lighting is so dull, it takes me a little while to adjust my sight. There are no windows, only gray walls enclosing me in a confined space.
There are two doors.
My heart hammers in my chest as I take it all in as quickly as I can.
Two possible chances of escape.
The bed I’m sitting on is large, probably a king, and it takes up most of the room. A long rectangular desk sits against the wall, a closet is between the two doors, and on the wall next to the bed hangs a large television. It’s cozy, I suppose. I guess it has everything you need, but I still don’t know why the hell I’m in his room.
“Am I in America?”
He dips his chin. “Tampa.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip. “Why here?”
“Does it matter—”
“Where’s my sister? Is she here, too?”
He storms toward me, my eyes opening wide at the anger etched on his face. “You ask too many questions for a captured girl.” He stops at the edge of the bed but doesn’t move to touch me.
Is it absurd I wish he would?
“You, sir, don’t answer enough!” I point my finger directly into his chest, jabbing a few times.
He runs his hand through his thick head of hair. “You shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have done this.” He turns, letting out a huff.
Panic washes through me.
I’m unsure what he means by that, but for some reason, I edge closer to him. “Done what?”
He turns back to me, his eyes widening when he sees I’ve edged closer. Softening his stiff posture, he exhales. “I took you. I was supposed to deliver you to someone, but… I didn’t.”
My head jerks back at his answer. “I-I don’t understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Neither do fucking I.”
“My sister?” I beg, sitting up on my knees, desperation in my voice.
He turns his lip up at me. “She’s gone.”
Fear cripples me, but somehow, I manage to jump from the bed right in front of him, my hands gripping onto the leather of his cut and shake him. “What do you mean?”
He grabs my wrists, yanking my hands free. The second his hands touch me, a spark shoots up my arms slamming straight into my chest. I gasp at the shock as he throws me onto the bed. “Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, touch my cut without my permission,” he pants out like he’s having trouble breathing as we stare at each other.
My eyes lock onto his chocolate orbs.
I should be scared of him.
I should be quaking in my damn shoes.
But there’s something, something about this man that has my heart racing.
He puts up a front. He’s built a wall, bricking himself over to the world. I’m not sure why. I don’t know him well enough, but I do know something’s happened to make him this way. I see right through him.
His eyes give him away.
The spark of light shining through, it’s like a beacon of hope.
I sit up slowly. He watches me, trying to gauge my next move. I stand back in front of him while his eyes don’t leave me, even a second, as I place my hand over his chest. He jerks his head back in shock.
I swallow a lump in my throat, my pulse racing so hard I feel like my veins might burst. “I see you.” His forehead crinkles like he can’t read me at all. “Tell me your name,” I whisper.
His nostrils flare as he takes my hand, more gently this time, removing it from his chest, but he doesn’t let my hand go. Instead, his thumb grazes over my skin. The tightness in his expression shows he’s internally struggling with something.
“You’re an enigma, Chiquita.”
I can’t describe the feelings running through me.
I’m terrified.
But I am calm.
Something about him soothes me. “Please?” I beg.
His hand tightens on mine as he clenches his eyes shut, his face scrunching like he’s annoyed, but he opens his eyes, and light shines back at me. Moving his other hand up, he slides a strand of hair behind my ear. I let him because I don’t have the willpower right now to stop him.