Betraying Beauty (Sons of Lucifer MC): Vegas Titans Series (12 page)

“You sure?”

“Now, baby. Fuck me, Dominic.”

“I need you, Harper.”

“Fuck me.”

“I love you.”

He angles himself, the head of his cock piercing the opening
of my throbbing, wet pussy.        

“Jesus Christ, Harper. You’re so good.”

“Oh fuck, Dominic, yes!”

“God!”

He’s so big, and somehow he knows to thrust slowly and let
me adjust. But he’s relentless and doesn’t stop his slow, sensual domination
until he’s sheathed to the hilt. It feels like I’ve come apart already, the
pressure and size of him immediately hinting at orgasm.

“Oh god, baby!”

I can feel him so deep inside, a place no one else has ever
reached, and I can’t help but let out a primal shout of welcome. We’ve come
home.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, holding still at his full
thrust. “You’re mine.”

His fingers twine in my hair, holding me down. He’s in
control, claiming me, and it feels so good to let him.

He stares down at me, beginning to rock slowly, and the
pressure begins to sweeten and burn. We’re both moaning, staring into each
other’s eyes. It’s thrilling, somehow, the way he’s watching me. Wonder is on
his face.

“Harper, yes. Fuck yes! You’re mine, baby girl. So sweet.”

My palms spread along his chest, surrendering to his rhythm
inside me. “God, I love you.”

He smiles, a full smile I’ve never seen before. “I love you
too baby. God, you’re so tight. Yes. Yes, baby.”

He pulls half out and thrusts in, this time harder.

“Oh god!” I wail.

He does it again, faster. Harder.

“Oh my god, Dominic!”
            “Yes!”

“Dominic!”

“Yeah baby.”

This is it: this is right. No one else, ever. Never again.

“Fuck yeah.”

He leans back, one hand on my hips and the other kneading my
breast as he continues to thrust, in and out, sliding effortlessly in my
wetness. He flicks my nipples with his thumb until they’re hard and tingling.
That sensation along with his thrusts makes me hotter, driving me wild, and I
feel a burst of wetness between my legs.

“Holy shit,” Dominic cries.

“Was that me?” I laugh, breathless.

“Yeah it was, baby, that was fucking amazing. Oh my god. Oh
god!”

He’s riding me fast and hard, each thrust of his cock
filling me to the brim. Harder. Faster. Wilder. Stars burst in my vision,
everything burning a nuclear white as a searing hot climax rips through every
nerve ending in my body.

“Yes!” I wail. “Oh god, yes!”

I feel myself throb and squeeze around Dominic’s cock, every
muscle inside me contracting with a powerful orgasm. Every atom is on fire; all
I can breathe is his name.

“Dominic!”

We’re locked together like an eternity knot: cock, pussy,
ecstasy.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Oh baby, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum baby.”

“Yes!”

His body stiffens and I feel another burst of warmth between
my legs before Dominic collapses on top of me, his weight sinking me deep into heavy
bliss. We’re a big, hot, sweaty heap of skin and stupid grins, our chests
rising and falling together at the same rate of disbelief. I can’t catch my
breath.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

“Holy fuck,” Dominic agrees.

“Holy everything.”

“Yeah. That was fucking holy, woman. This is holy.”

We just lay there, panting, for a while - maybe an hour,
maybe a lifetime, maybe ten minutes. Time stops. Dominic is so heavy, so
relaxed and warm on top of me. He buries his head in my breasts, nibbling at my
sensitive skin until I jump and chuckle.

He glances up at my face and smiles lazily. “Did I tell you
I love you?”

I laugh, overwhelmed. “Don’t stop telling me, ok?”

“Ok.” He traces his fingers down my cheek, until his eyes
catch on the silver sheen of my necklace. “What’s this you’re always wearing?”
He asks, turning the pendant over in his fingers.

“Oh.” My heart is thumping, and not just from the orgasm.
I’m nervous, suddenly. I’m just not used to him loving me. To being safe. “Um,
it’s…a swan.”

A frown flickers over his face, and his eyes lock onto mine.

“A swan?” He repeats. His eyes are so piercing my chest
aches.

I swallow, wishing I didn’t feel like my heart was clamoring
to claw out of my chest. “Yeah, a swan. Swan’s mate for life. Right?”

“Right.”

He isn’t making this any easier.

I prop myself up on an elbow, so that my face is level with
his. “Swans mate for life, and so do I. You said that to me, remember? At the
lake.”

He smiles. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Of course I remembered. And then…well, I thought I’d never
see you again. I knew, deep down, that I’d never love anybody else, so I had to
show it somehow. I’ve worn a swan for ten years. I’ve kept you here, all this
time.”

I take his hand and spread it over my chest, where I am sure
he can feel my heart freaking out.

His face is so serious as he leans forward and kisses my
lips softly. He pulls back, and stares at the necklace.

“For life,” he says slowly. “You and me.”

Chapter Thirteen

Dominic

I wake up disoriented; hung over from the best sex and the
best sleep I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life. In my dazed state, it takes
a few minutes for it to sink in that this isn’t the Sons of Lucifer clubhouse. It’s
the opposite of the clubhouse; everything is clean and bright and white, and
oddly quiet. That’s right—I’m in Harper’s apartment.

In Harper’s bed.

Rolling over, I reach to wrap my arm around her but come up
with an empty pillow instead. The crinkling sound of paper surprises my eyelids
open.

It’s a note.

Holy shit! She’s gone, and she left a note. I sit bolt
upright in bed, instantly awake, and read Harper’s sloping, neat cursive:
I
love you. Leaving you for work was the hardest thing ever. You looked so
peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. I love you. Let’s never spend another
night apart. Love, Harper. P.S. I love you.

“Shit!”

I’m out of bed and in my pants in record time. How the fuck could
she not wake me? Everything I’ve said and done over the course of the last few
weeks has been an attempt to make her understand the stakes and the risks of
what we’re into with Colt. How could she be so stubborn, so cavalier as to just
wander off by herself?

Fuck.

“It’s not her fault, Dominic,” I scold myself. “You know she
doesn’t get it. It’s your job to protect her. You failed your job. How could
you fail your job?”

How could I be so stupid, to sleep through the morning? Now
she’s out there by herself, with no one protecting her. Colt’s blackmail threat
is hanging over our heads, the settlement isn’t settled, and I fucking sleep on
my watch and let Harper wander out into danger without anyone guarding her. This
is my fault. I’ve created an opening, a weakness.

And if I know Colt, he’ll smell it a mile away. Just like
the last time, with Heath.

Adrenaline is already pumping through my veins as I grab my
cell, already walking toward the elevator. Fuck, it’s 1pm. How the hell did I
sleep so god damn long? What is wrong with me?

I slam the elevator button, anxiety mounting with every
second the slow elevator takes to move toward the ground floor. There’s a text message
from Harper on my phone, saying that the settlement offer worked: Colt’s lawyer
accepted, all the papers are signed.

I punch in her number and almost shake with relief when I
hear her pick up.

“Thank god you’re ok,” I say. “What the hell were you
thinking, running out like that by yourself?”

“Woah,” she laughs, “Hello to you too! Congratulations would
have been nice, too, Dominic—we did it! It’s settled. It’s over. I think a
celebration is in order tonight, maybe some champagne or even tequila. Your
days of dealing with lawyers are hopefully done and you’re about to be a very
rich man.”

“Where are you, Harper?”

“Just leaving the meeting that’s saved our asses, geez, why
don’t you sound even a little psyched? We won!”

I’m having trouble keeping my voice calm. We haven’t won
yet. Winning means getting out of this alive and well. “Where was the meeting?”

“In my office, Mr. Gustappo. You’re awful possessive after
love-making, you know.”

“Colt was there?”

“Yeah, Colt was there. Wow what is this, twenty questions?”

I grit my teeth with impatience. “What did he say?”

“Not much. I could tell he wasn’t happy about the settlement
but his lawyer talked some sense into him. Everything is done. We’re okay, Dominic.”

I’m barreling through the lobby and trying to remember where
I parked my bike. I can get to her building in ten minutes from here.

“Stay there at your office Harper. Lock the door. I’m coming
to meet you. Don’t move, don’t talk to anybody, don’t go anywhere by yourself.
Not even the bathroom, okay?”

“Dominic, calm down! I can’t meet you at my office, I’m
already in a town car on my way to the Sons’ clubhouse. I need some signatures
from your MC officers.”

“Shit.” This isn’t good: anything can happen on the road.
“Where are you, where’s the car?”

“Dominic, what’s the matter?”

“You’re unprotected. Colt knows you’re unprotected. He could
be following you.”

“I’ll be fine, Dominic, just—”

There’s a sudden screech and crashing sound on Harper’s end.

“Harper?”

I can’t hear her voice anymore, just chaos and static.

“Harper? What’s happening? Are you there?”

The line goes dead, and my hands start to shake.

“Harper? Babe? You there? Shit!”

I’m having a panic attack, struggling for air. I try to
re-dial Harper’s number, but my fingers are clumsy and before I can call her my
screen lights up with another message from her phone.

It says:
D.C. 30 minutes. –C.

No.

Holy fuck. Colt. It’s happening. It’s happening again, and
it’s all my fucking fault: first Heath, now Harper. He’s taken her.

And I didn’t stop him.

Not good enough
. I don’t deserve Harper if I can’t
protect her. I’m not good enough. I’ve never been good enough. Not at the
reservation. Not in Plattsburg.
Half-blood.
Half-ass. I couldn’t save
Heath, I couldn’t stop Colt, and I couldn’t protect Harper. Hard as I tried, he
still got her.

Fuck! Everything is falling apart.

“Get a grip, Dominic,” I whisper to myself. “This would be
time to do that hero thing.”

I am Dominic Thorne. I am Mohawk. I am white. I am two
worlds and two people in one. I am a fighter, a survivor, and need no charity.
I take revenge. I kill or be killed.

I kill.

Think, think—I’ve got to think. Thirty minutes. D.C.
Depraved Club. I’ve got to get to the Depraved Club site, that pile of bones
and filth. But there’s no demand for money. No bargaining. Colt’s only given me
a time and a place. He wants blood.

Harper’s blood. Or mine.

Kill or be killed.

My body feels cold and dead as I force it to sprint towards
my motorcycle.

Chapter Fourteen

Harper

The first thing I notice as I wake is a gentle swaying
sensation. It brings back summers in the Caribbean. I’m reliving the memory of
being in a boat, rocking in space to and fro: rock-a-bye baby. It’s almost
nice. I don’t want to open my eyes for some reason. I want to stay in the boat.
Safe.

Then I hear a faint hum, as if air is moving around me but
not touching me. Wind? No. I’m in a vacuum: a cocoon, or one of those isolated,
soundproofed music rooms at universities where the walls suck up sound.

For a drowsy minute I think I must be in one of those music
rooms, an undergraduate again asleep on a practice piano between classes. That
explains it. That explains why my head is heavy, why it’s quiet. Why I don’t
want to wake up.

Something is wrong.

An odd cold is what gets me to open my eyes and move; I
don’t want to be lying on this block of ice anymore and my elbows and hands and
feet are aching with the cold. But it’s not cold. This is Las Vegas. I’m
confused. Why am I cold? The back of my head is throbbing and when I reach to
touch it my fingers come away sticky and red.

“Shit!”

I’m bleeding. A lot. Well, that explains the feeling of
cold. Frowning at the blood on my fingers, I squint into the darkness around
me. I seem to be floating, swaying in mid-air. Though it’s dark around me, I
can see a gray concrete floor swaying far below me.
What the fuck?
How?

I’m in a glass box. It’s clear and square.

Where the hell am I, through the looking glass?

I’m in a fucking glass box, held up in the air and dangling
from a warehouse ceiling by four huge chains. The ceiling is sheet metal. The
glass box is clear and just large enough for me to sit up or lay down, like an
oversized aquarium.

Oh my god, I know where I am.

I’m in the Depraved Club.

“Help!” I shout.

I’m in the Depraved Club and its dark and haunted and it smells
like fear. I’m in one of those glass cages I remember seeing the women
sex-slaves and wild animals displayed in when I was here before, trapped and
dangling over the dance floor.

What the fuck is going on?

“Hello?” I shout, banging my palms against the glass. It
hurts my hands, but I don’t stop banging. It’s so freaking cold! Of course the
glass doesn’t budge, but my flailing makes the cage swing gently, creaking on
its chains like a lonely ghost.

“Hello?” My voice reverberates back to me, sounding small
and faint. I realize the glass cage has its own top. I’m sealed in from every
side, and my voice probably doesn’t carry. But still, I clear my throat and
shout at the top of my lungs. “Hey, anybody there? Help! Someone help me! Let
me out! Hello?”

My cries die away unanswered. It’s then, in the dark, I see
the flicker of a lighter. The spark of flame is not far from me, almost at my eye-level.

There’s someone sitting on the balcony in the dark, watching
me.

“Who are you?” I shout, pounding the glass.

The point of fire rises and lights a cigarette, which glows
like a demon’s eye and lets off smoke like tears. But I can’t see much of the
person behind the cigarette, only the lonely dot of red in a big black room
full of shadow.

My hair stands on end as a wave of panic and nausea compound
the cold.

“What do you want? Let me out!”

The only answer is a puff of smoke. My eyes are adjusting to
the dimness, and I can just make out the shape of a man around the cigarette.

“Mr. Colbain? Colt Cobain? Is that you?”

He doesn’t answer me, but a sinking sensation in my stomach
tells me it’s him. It’s got to be. Dominic was right—Colt must have followed me
from the settlement meeting this morning and caused the car crash that I’m just
beginning to remember. It’s the last thing I remember before waking up here.

I should have been more careful. I should have thought it
through. I should have made Dominic come with me to the office this morning. I
should have been smarter than this.

“Why are you doing this?” I scream, enraged. “Let me out!”

No answer.

There’s a rumbling sound somewhere behind me, and I turn in
my swinging cage to see the collapsed, unhinged metal doors of the Depraved
Club being ripped open like a sardine can and tossed to the side. There’s a
crash and a wall of light tumbles in from outside, a man’s silhouette falling
over the floor like an axe.

Dominic!

“Colt,” he shouts. “Show yourself, you cock-sucking bastard.
If you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you slowly. You cowardly son of a bitch.”

The voice sounds far away, like through a tunnel, but even
from a distance and in the dark I recognize the shape of his ripped body, like
a UFC fighter standing proud in the doorway with his shadow filling up the
warehouse floor. I sure wouldn’t want him angry with me. The sunlight behind
him outlines every contour of his muscles like an etching in steel.

Colt doesn’t answer, and when I whip my head around to look,
I see another puff of smoke from his cigarette. No movement. No sound.

“Harper,” Dominic shouts. “Can you hear me?”

“Dominic!” I shout, not knowing if he can hear me. “Dominic!
Up here! He’s in the balcony! Be careful! Dominic, the balcony!”

Dominic shows no sign of hearing me. Instead, he crouches
down in the doorway in a defensive position, aiming the beam of a flashlight
ahead of him into the darkness.

“Dominic! Dominic? Up here, can you hear me?”

Frantic, I push with all my might against one side of the
glass cage. It doesn’t budge in its seams, but the chains creak with my
shifting weight, giving me an idea. With a deep breath, I throw my body as hard
as I can against one side of the cage, then the other. The chains squeal and
rattle as the cage begins to rock like a boat in the waves.

Dominic’s flashlight beam moves up toward the sound, and
soon the light is shining in my face.

“Harper?” I hear him shout. “Are you ok?”

But there’s no chance for me to answer him. Out of nowhere I
see another flash near Colt’s cigarette, but a different kind. This flash goes
with an ear-splitting crack.

A gunshot. One of the chains snaps free from the nearest corner
of my glass cage. Colt fired at my cage.

Gasping in panic, I lurch as the cage bounces and swings
with the sudden loss of balanced support, making me fall to my side.

“Shit!” I squeal, scrambling for equilibrium.

There’s a buzzing in my ears and my skeleton feels like it’s
shaking, but through the shock I’m hit with sudden clarity: Colt is using me as
bait. I’m a sitting duck, and there’s no way out...other than falling down.

“Colt, stop!” Dominic shouts. He stands, his frame filling
the doorway. “She’s not the one you want. Take me instead.” Dominic throws his
gun down on the ground and raises his hands in the air, a gesture of surrender.
“I’m unarmed. I’ll trade you, me for her.”

For the first time, I hear Colt’s voice. It’s cold and clear
and high, raised in laughter.

“This isn’t a negotiation, Thorne,” he rasps. “This is
payback. You brought her into this, and neither one of you are getting out.”

There’s another gunshot, and Dominic drops to the floor. Jesus!
No. Has he been hit or did he duck? I can’t fucking tell.

“Dominic!” I wail, pointlessly. No one can hear me.

“You fucking bastard!” Dominic shouts, rolling to cover.

Now I can’t see him. I’ve lost him.

“You thought you could destroy everything I have, and I’d
just disappear?” Colt shouts. “You thought it would be clean? This isn’t over
until you’re both dead.”

“You started this!” Dominic shoots back. “With your human
trafficking and your fucked up club in my territory. You knew you’d never get
away with it, that the Sons wouldn’t just disappear without a fight. You work
for the devil, you pay the price.”

Colt laughs again. “Sons of Lucifer. Leviathan Corp.
Different names, same devil. Time to pay.”

Another gunshot rings out, and another, snapping a second
chain from the same side of my cage. The bottom pane of glass shatters, leaving
nothing between me and the ground far below.

Now only two chains are still attached and the cage begins
to pitch to the side, uneven. The glass is smooth, there are no handholds, and
I flop and tumble along the sloping surface as it tilts toward the ground.

I’m sliding down.

“Harper!” Dominic shouts.

Screaming, I grab at anything—but there’s nothing. Before I
can get a hold of the cage’s edge Colt fires again, severing a third chain.

The entire cage is dangling from one chain, now, one corner
of the cube anchored to the ceiling and the rest of the box spilling down. I
wedge my legs and arms as wide as I can, trying to use my limbs as a plug to
stop myself from tumbling out altogether. But my muscles are shaking with the
effort.

I can’t hold it.

I’m going to fall.
            “No!” I scream! “Please!”

My fingers are digging desperately into the thin seam of
metal around the upper rim of the glass, my bare feet cutting in to the bottom
edge, but I’m slipping.

I hear more gunshots, but I can’t tell anymore who shoots at
whom. There’s a splintering sound, like crystal breaking.

“Harper!”

Gravity suspends. Time stops.

“Dominic!” I scream. “Help me!”

I’m watching myself fall from far away, out of my body—like
someone outside who has shaken a snow-globe: Harper is floating down, sparkling
shards of shattered glass cascading around her like falling icicles. She looks
so small, so thoroughly fucked.

Someone is shouting. Someone is shooting a gun. But those
sounds are distant, muffled by the fall and the cold and the shock.

“Harper!”

But then I hit something, or something catches me, and the
quiet out-of-body peace implodes. All around me there’s crashing and glittering
and darkness. I’m covered with something heavy, unable to see.

I hear the tinkling of breaking glass splintering into the
concrete around me. I feel the air knocked out of my chest cavity, like belly flopping
into a pool.

But while my fall is broken, my body is not.

The dust settles, and I find myself curled in a ball,
wrapped in Dominic’s arms. He’s caught me and thrown his body around me like a
shield. There are bits of glass sparkling in his hair, all over his leather
jacket.

“Dominic,” I gasp.

“Harper you alright?”

We’re both breathless, somewhat stunned by the impact and
the glass. And our reunion is cut short by more gunfire.

“Find cover!” Dominic pushes me away like a hot potato and
I’m rolling until I thump into something, an overturned table. I scramble
behind it, only realizing once I’m safely hidden that Dominic hasn’t followed
me.
            “Dominic?”

Peeking out, I see him crawling through the glass, firing up
at the balcony. He tries to stand but stumbles to the ground, groaning. I see
him clutching his thigh.

“Dominic!”

I jump up to run to him but he waves me away. “Harper, run!
Get out of here!”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Colt growls.

There’s more gunfire, this time in my direction.

“Harper, get down!” Dominic yells.

I scream and duck, throwing my arms over my head. When the
blasts fall silent I hear running footsteps and look up, breathless. For a
second I can’t see either of the men in the dark.

“Guess you’re empty, Colt.”

“Guessed wrong, Thorne.”

There’s one final shot, then a groan. Then silence.

“Dominic?”

The footsteps resume, but it’s not Dominic’s footsteps that
I hear. These sound like dress shoes. Colt has come out of nowhere, standing
over Dominic in triumph.

“No!” I shout, realizing that Dominic’s been shot.

That Colt is beating him lifeless.

My legs have gone wobbly, but I force myself to stand and
stumble toward the sounds of punches and grunts. Dominic is down, and Colt is
kicking him in the ribs, face, belly.

“No!”

I don’t even recognize my own voice, its primal war cry.

I don’t even realize what I am doing until a huge shard of the
shattered cage glass is in my hands, a lethal weapon. It bites into my skin but
I barely feel it until I’ve jumped onto Colt’s back and I’m stabbing the glass
down like a guillotine into his neck, pushing until I can’t push anymore,
screaming for all I’m worth.

The glass is cutting me, but killing Colt. All I can think
is: stop him.

There’s a horrible gargling sound. Colt’s body shudders and
slackens under me until he falls to his knees. I tumble on top, my fingers
still clutching the glass. Colt goes still, and I can feel the heat of his
blood soaking through both of our shirts.

He’s dead.

Colt is dead.

I’ve killed a man.

I’m sobbing with effort and shock and pain, but the
realization of what I’ve done propels me up and off the pile of bodies. Colt is
lying facedown covering Dominic, who hasn’t moved.