Bitter Kind of Love: Prairie Devils MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (12 page)

Tank wasn't kidding. I smelled like I'd gotten piss drunk and rolled around in it. What a damned disgrace.

I shouldn't have been moping around the fucking clubhouse – especially not after a big bash like tonight. I should've slowed down on my drinks and gotten home. The little apartment I rented from a local dude who had a son with ties to the club wasn't much, but it was warm and peaceful. It didn't make my skull rattle with bitter memories like every second I spent in this room.

Yeah, there was a lotta shit I
should've
done, but damned if I was gonna. Every fucking second that girl lingered in my head, staring at me with her icy eyes and taunting me with her sweet fucking lips, meant another second I was gone.

Completely fucking lost.

She'd taken me on a bad trip and I wasn’t coming back 'til I could bleach her outta my head, or else finally see her again. Best I could do tonight was rip open the old dresser drawer where I kept the only pieces of her I still had.

First, I picked up her old ID, fingering the edges. Same damned card Blaze had stopped me from bringing to her personally before she blew town. If I would've had a forwarding address, I sure as shit would've sent it onto her, but she could've gone all the way to fucking India for all I knew.

I didn't have a clue where she'd taken off to, and nobody was telling me neither.

Blaze was a bastard for keeping her from me, but I had to admit, he'd made the right call as Prez. Last thing this club needed was for the media to hear about a full patch officer riding across state lines and kidnapping a chick.

And yeah, there were days when I thought about that too, just taking off and going the fuck after her, even if it meant my bike skidding off an icy mountain pass or coming home to face a beating from my brothers. If I had any idea whether to head east or west, I'd have done it, consequences be fucked.

As it was, I had nothing.
Nothing.
Not even a single bone left behind to chase my damned tail.

My lips twitched sourly as I picked up her sketchbook. I tore through the pages, staring at the shit I'd seen and marveled over several times before. The girl was good. If she couldn't remember drawing like this, I hoped like hell it would come back some day.

The first page had a castle rising high to the moon in a desolate wasteland. The big, grinning beast behind it had a weird resemblance to the Devils' patch, the big smiling face with its sharp teeth and horns that always leered out our colors.

On page two, there was a cowboy with a revolver in hand. He was one surly looking badass motherfucker, and a couple unhappy girls lingered at his feet, crying on the ground like slaves. Would've been disturbing if it wasn't for the pointy ears she put on everybody.

Then there was one last drawing before the book ran into boring, half-finished everyday things. A shirtless dude with a sword held it up to the sky in triumph, something dark like blood dripping down his six pack, his teeth peeled back in an animal grin. The girl from the last sketch was at his feet, only this time she was looking up and smiling, arms wrapped around his thick leg like she was about to suck his dick straight to heaven.

I smiled like a fucking moron at this. Wasn't sure why. Guess it said my baby had hero fantasies, or maybe she just had a soft spot for real men.

Except she wasn't
my
baby. My smile melted. Alice might as well have been a million miles away on the dark side of the fucking moon. And I wasn't her hero by any stretch.

I'd let her walk, let Blaze whip my ass into line for the good of the club, let her roll into a world that sure as shit wasn't gonna do her any favors. It wasn't gonna cut her any breaks for her suffering either. If I'd learned anything since earning my patch, it was that a person had to earn
everything
in this fucking world from square one.

Lady Luck's hugs and kisses were rare, and they only went so far. They were usually much too fucking late too. Beth taught me that.

Fuck, how many years had it been? Coming up on two goddamned decades?

The shit still got to me like it happened yesterday. I threw the sketchbook back in the drawer and pushed it shut with a snarl.

No use wasting another second in here this cold night.

I walked out and slammed the door behind me. Several dudes on the ground rolled, rudely jostled in their sleep by the sound. I picked up my glass off the windowsill and headed to the bar to finish what I started.

More Jim. More beer. More venom.

No fucking way was I heading home tonight. No point when there was nothing to go home to.

I must've downed two more tall glasses of my gnarly cocktail before the furry heat in my brain started to go black. Shuffling off the bench, I hit the floor and rolled several inches, sprawling out on the empty floor.

Last thing in my head before I blacked out was
her,
and then I swore. Damned good reason to.

Even with enough liquor in my system to choke Tank, I couldn't stop thinking about Alice, and it was scary as shit. I was well and truly cursed, fucked beyond recognition unless I got my arms around her again.

If that day ever came, I wasn't letting go. Not for Blaze, not for common sense, not for anybody. The girl was a goddamned Siren, and the only way to get my dick wet without losing my mind was to find her, take her, and finish what we'd started.

Sometime during the night, my dick jerked. I sat up, and instantly felt something between my legs.

The soupy, pleasant buzz in my head was in that stage where it was turning into hangover torture. Needles throbbed in my eyes when I moved, twice as hard when I saw dark haired Sugar with her face dangerously close to my crotch. The bitch leaned in, rubbing her cheek against my length. My dick didn't give a single shit about the hammering in my head.

“What the fuck?!” I grabbed her hair, fisting it in one hand.

She giggled, obviously drunk herself. Guess Smokey or Stone hadn't exhausted her either because when she leaned up, I saw she was shirtless, her small pink nipples brimming like rosebuds.

“
Shhhh,
” she whispered, holding one finger to her lips. “We both know this has been coming for months. How do you want it? Mouth? Ass? Pussy?”

My eyes wanted to crawl right outta my head. My cock jerked again. It had been a long time, so fucking long. This slut was offering me anything and everything, a buffet of lust and hot white skin spread out for me to devour.

When I didn't answer, she moved for me, going for my fly. The zipper jerked down and her little hand reached in, grasping my whole fucking length.

“Oh! Jesus, Sting...hard as a fucking rock and big too. Can't say I'm surprised.” She licked her lips. “I knew you were huge. Let's see if I can wake you up and help shake that hangover...”

My cock writhed in her hand as she drew it toward her lips. At the very last second, my hand jerked, violently throwing her head against my knee by the hair.

“Ow!” She jumped up and scrambled away from me, rubbing her temple. “What the hell's the matter with you? Fucking drunk!”

Yeah, I shook the hangover all right. Hadn't even tucked my cock in when my body bolted up and jumped on top of her, savage instinct boiling in my blood, mad dog killer shit I hadn't felt since tangling with the Rams and Grizzlies.

My hand went for her throat and I pushed her to the ground. Now, she looked genuinely scared. My cock wasn't sure if it liked what was happening or if it was about to deflate in horror.

“Jesus, Sting! I –“ I cut her off with another vicious yank of the hair.

“Get the fuck out and go suck another brother, or lick the cold ass ground for all I care. You're a slut, Sugar, you and that other bitch, good for these parties and nothing else. If you
ever
sneak up on an officer of this club again and shit on him in any way, I'll have your ass thrown the fuck out and banned from this clubhouse. Got it?”

Shock and disgust shone bright in her eyes. Had to give the bitch's hair another rough tug to make her listen. Fuck me, her nipples were still hard enough to pound nails. My cock was gonna hate me forever for turning this down.

“I understand.”

Done. I released her. She jerked away, scrambled to her feet, one arm thrown across her bare tits. I watched her ass bob as she high-tailed it back to the room she was sharing with her sister-in-sluttiness and the two new brothers.

With her outta the way, my headache stirred with a vengeance. I crawled to the nearest corner and collapsed, turning my face to the side so I didn't choke on anything that came outta my guts. It was a long bitter night sleeping off the worst feeling I'd had since the Rams' shit was in my blood.

I couldn't decide if I was an idiot for poisoning my own stupid ass this time, or if I should blame Alice instead. The girl left her mark, her venom so deep I couldn't find an antidote. And it was pretty fucking strong when it made me turn down free pussy.

“Sting? Stinger?”

Someone was shaking me, and it sounded an awful lot like Sugar. Jesus Christ, what did I have to do to get this bitch to leave me alone?

I popped up before I bothered opening my eyes. The woman shaking me screamed as she was knocked off her knees. Eyes open, head pounding something fierce, my jaw dropped as I saw Saffron sprawled out on the floor.

Fuck!
I was about to apologize, but I never got the chance.

A brick smashed me in the mouth and I went down, grabbing for my teeth, tasting pure blood. When I tried to get up, but a boot slammed me right in the middle of my back, knowing where to twist into my spine to cause the most pain. The brutal weight shifted as its owner leaned down to my ear.

“You fucking asshole!” Blaze growled. “You ever push my old lady like that again, and I'll do a lot worse than shake your jaw. What the fuck's gotten into you?”

The boot pressed a little harder, and then came off. Soon as I rolled, slowly, knowing I was in a world of shit, Blaze grabbed me by both sides of my cut and hauled me up, throwing me against the wall.

“Sorry, Prez. I didn't fucking know it was her. I thought it was –“

“Alice?” He snorted and laughed. “Listen, bro, you gotta get over this. She's
gone
, and that's the way it's gonna stay. You're fucking off worse than Tank when Em had his dick all tied in knots.”

“Sugar, actually,” I said. “The bitch wouldn't leave me alone last night.”

Blaze released me, taking a step backward and rubbing his eyes. Saffron was on her feet again, glaring at me and rubbing his shoulder with one hand.

“You okay, baby?” He turned to his old lady, flashing me the evil eye.

“Yeah, I'm fine. We've both had a lot worse than that. I'll be more careful next time about startling a brother laid out on the –“

“Don't bother,” Blaze snapped, cutting her off. He pointed at me. “This man getting his shit together is nobody's problem but his own. Thing is, he's
gonna
get his head screwed on again real fast before his bullshit becomes a problem for the club. Isn't that right, VP?”

Bastard was really testing me now. I nodded, straightening my cut. Christ, I needed about a gallon of water to feel human with the hangover tearing through my system.

“What're you two doing here anyway? Thought club business was suspended all week for the holiday?”

“Business for the MC, yeah,” Saffron said, resting her face on Blaze's shoulder. “We dropped by to pick up some extra drinks for the house.”

“That's not the only reason,” Blaze growled. “Also decided to check in to make sure nobody burned the damned place to the ground or fucked a hole in the wall. I gotta watch the clubhouse because you're sure as shit not doing it.”

He turned his head, looking at Reb passed out on the ground with his long hair thrown over some skinny blonde's face. A cigarette was still in his hand, a pile of ash beneath it, and several scorch marks to boot. The older brother had taken to smoking a lot more since the cold weather rolled in instead of chewing his snuff.

Thank fuck. The gods of fortune got me off the hook by redirecting Blaze's shitstorm. I watched the Prez swagger over and give Reb a rude awakening of his own.

“Got to make sure everything's set for the deep freeze too,” a voice said. “Just because the bikes and guns are sleeping for winter doesn't mean they don't deserve a tuneup.”

I turned around and saw Moose standing in the open door leading to the garages. He flashed me a smile, frost clinging to his huge brown beard.

“Let me grab some coffee and I'll be out there to help,” I told him.

Tuning up the bikes or cleaning guns sounded pretty damned good right now. It would give me something to do while the hangover faded. Plus I'd be outta Blaze's sight. I wanted to get the hell away before he was done giving Reb hell about burning the clubhouse down.

I turned to the bar. Saffron already had the coffee maker going, and she pushed a huge mug of water into my hand.

“You're a total babe,” I said, reaching for the glass and guzzling the coolness down.

“Whatever. You're lucky I'm in a good mood today. Life's too short to be pissy about sleepwalking.”

I watched her over my glass. Yeah, the girl definitely had a special kinda glow about her. Christmas was right around the corner, and then it was only a little while longer 'til the big day in Reno.

Getting married to a mean SOB like the Prez was the second best thing a girl could hope for after getting claimed in this club. I just hoped I'd have my shit settled before we all had to take off to Nevada.

Saffron poured my coffee into a thermos. I picked it up from the counter before heading out.

“Don't freeze your ass off too long out there, Sting. You know how Moose can be once he gets into taking things apart...”

Yeah, I knew. The only thing our senior brother knew better than tearing bikes apart was numbers. He'd made club Treasurer by default when the charter formed because accounting shit made everybody else's head spin.

“I'll be fine.” I shrugged. “Fucking cold'll probably be good for clearing my head one way or another. Can't think about much at all when your balls are half-frozen to the ground.”