The bike jerks forward, and off we go.
The air changes from crisp to cool, the mountain air turning salty as the Pacific Ocean grows closer. The seclusion becomes less so and more people flood the streets.
Does it look weird? With a high schooler on the back of a motorcycle, with a grown man covered in facial hair and a messy ponytail? His tattooed arms flex and tense as he swerves through the lanes, controlling his massive bike with such ease. Like it’s absolutely nothing.
He knows how to ride. He owns not only the bike, but the entire road he rides on.
I don’t have to say where to go. No directions are given as he weaves and cuts through the streets, like he’s been to my house one million times.
By the time he stops in front of my apartment, my mouth is dropped wide, and I can do nothing but hold onto his body with shaky arms, wondering how the hell he knew where to go.
“You gettin’ off or staying on my bike all night?” he mumbles, the vibrations rolling from his back and into my belly.
That snaps me into action. I slide off his bike and stand in front of him. He stares at me, his dark eyes so mysterious and commanding that I can’t look away from them.
“How did you… I don’t understand…” The sleeves of my sweatshirt bunch over my hands, and I squeeze the worn fabric, nervous and mortified at the state of my home. Trash is littered outside, the front steps broken and crumbling, cracked with only half a railing.
“I think the bigger question is, why’re you living in such a pile of shit?”
I look down at my feet, and a flush breaks out along my body. I have no choice on where I live. I have no job and no money. My mom barely has anything herself.
“You don’t have to stay here.”
My eyes lock with his again, trying to make sense of what he means. I feel so shattered on the inside, knowing it’s not true. “Where else would I go?”
His eyes burn bright, his fist clenching around his handlebars. “You can stay with me.” His eyes shutter. “At my clubhouse. With Violet and Haley. You can stay with them.”
A cat screeches in the alleyway, and I so badly want to fold. To crumble and let him save me. But I can’t. I could never leave my mother. She wouldn’t survive without me.
“I can’t,” I whisper, turning around before I take back my words and leap into his arms.
The engine revs behind me, and I can feel the distance break between us as his bike roars down the road, leaving me in the dust. I glance over my shoulder at the last second, watching his shirt rise over his lower back, the toned, tattooed skin shining under the light of the moon.
The fog of my drunkenness has abated slightly, and I push open the front door that’s already propped open by an old milk crate, kicking it out of the way. I don’t know why people leave the front door like this all the time. All it does is lead to creepy homeless people wandering through the building and knocking on all our doors in the middle of the night.
I make my way to the second floor, half wishing my mom is here so I know she’s safe, and half wishing she isn’t. That will mean her boyfriend is here too, and I really don’t want to run into him after seeing his dick earlier.
I stop in front of my beaten, wooden door with more chips in it then there’s actual wood. Just as I’m about to open it, the sound of footsteps pounds up the stairs. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the massive body of Lynx prowling toward me, his legs toned and the strands from his hair falling from his pony, across his face.
“What—”
Before I can even think to finish, he reaches me but doesn’t stop moving. His body slams against mine, my back hitting the wall from his pace as he starts to guide me into the corner of the hallway. His hand goes to my jaw, his fingers expanding around the back of my neck, threading through my hair. He tilts my head to look up at him, and I gaze in shock into his eyes. Dark, so fucking dark.
Possessed.
He dips down, his rough lips pressing against my soft ones, and a stunned gasp leaves me. My hands go to his shoulders, because I’m not sure where else to put them. He’s so much taller than me. My feet step forward, landing on his boots to give me a higher boost. He walks me back again until I’m sandwiched against the wall, not an inch of air separating my body from his. It’s rock hard. Cement stone against my soft, pliant curves. My eyes shutter to a close, and I fully melt into him.
Just as he deepens the kiss with his tongue, I let out a whimper, and not even a moment later does he rip me off of him, stepping back so suddenly that I can barely catch my footing. My hands go to the wall behind me for support as I take in a deep breath, still feeling the wetness on my lips from his.
“I can’t. This is so fucked up. What the fuck am I doing?” he asks himself, his hands going through his hair, messing up his ponytail up even more.
I stand there silently, watching him freak out in the barren, dimly lit hallway. The light above us buzzes and flickers, the power in this place barely functional. He glares up at it, a sneer overtaking his face.
“It smells like fucking piss in here, Iris.” He can’t look at me, but his tone is still accusatory as he wears a hole into the floor.
“I’m sorry?” It definitely does smell like piss in here, but I can’t fucking fix it, so why is he barking at me?
His gaze whips to mine, and he prowls toward me once again. “What the fuck is it about you?”
My body freezes, his hot and cold a whiplash I can’t control, can’t even anticipate at this point.
“I met you once. In a different life, I suppose. The eyes, the hair, the skin. It was you. But it wasn’t, because you’re only seventeen. You weren’t even born when I met you before.”
I frown. So this connection I feel with him, it’s all a lie? Something to fill his void, because he thinks I look like someone from his past?
A cry wants to burst from my chest. My first ever emotion just has to be a fake one, a pretend connection that should’ve never been there in the first place. Of course.
“I have to go,” I mumble.
I turn past him, giving him my back as my eyes fill with unshed tears. I pull the key from the pocket of my sweatshirt, sticking it into the rusted lock. I jiggle it back and forth, frustration making it even more difficult to open.
His fingers wrap around my bicep, pulling me away from the door. Then his other hand reaches up, and the rough pads of his fingertips go to my chin, where he pinches tight, tilting my face up to look at him. “You aren’t her. You aren’t anything like her, Iris, and that scares the shit out of me.”
My mouth pops open in an O, and I watch as his eyes focus on my lips, his nostrils flaring as he intakes a breath. “You’re too young. A fucking child…” he whispers to himself before his lips once again come down on mine, stealing my breath with what feels like desperation in his kiss.
“I’m not. I’m not a child,” I whisper against his lips, pushing myself closer against him, until I can feel the outline of his erection pressing into me. It feels massive against his jeans. I don’t know how he’d ever fit in me.
More than that, I don’t know how he’d ever see me as something more than a child if he ever found out I was a virgin.
“I can’t do this.” He pulls away from me once more, his eyes tortured, and his mouth screwed up like he’s in physical pain as he turns his back to me. “I’d fucking kill any guy my age if he was kissing Violet like this.”