Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance (30 page)

Kayla sobbed as she fell along the wall back to her feet, before collapsing onto her knees.

Luke prodded a finger at the woman, “Never again, you hear me? Don’t make me regret mercy; it’ll end worse for you than it will me.” Luke turned on his heel, shaking his head and stepping over to Jasmine. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She caught one last glimpse of the girl, snot rolling from her nose and tears falling from her eyes.

For that one small moment Jasmine did not hate her.

Only pitied.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Augustus

It was getting late but he couldn’t get her out of his head; she was what was helping him stay sane – he hated that, hated that in his time of darkness that he was too weak to stand on his own feet. Drugs, women, work, they were all just one crutch that he swapped out for another.

But it hurt. It hurt all the time, and it wasn’t fair. Nothing ever was.

The whine of Augustus’ orange Kuradora 15’ began to spool down as he pulled into the driveway of Jasmine’s residence. There was an FX, black as coal, glorious and massive in size; for as much as Augustus could appreciate such a work of art, his heart crept up to his throat like he had swallowed something in reverse.

He killed the engine and went to the front door, straightening himself and bringing his closed hand to the door. Drawing a breath, he sucked in the cool nightly air and then gave a series of four knocks.

She had to be home, her car was just outside. Maybe she’s asleep?

The night was only punctuated by the rhythm of his heart and the pinpricks of anxiety skirting along his spine. It felt like a hundred needles had found their home.

Knocking again, Augustus’s cheeks became hot; he swallowed, trying to push his organs back in their respective places. This was a bad idea, a feeling of unease pressed against his stomach.

Finally the door turned just behind the frame and the chain lock became undone; a couple of seconds later the door swung open.

Wh-hat a jacked piece of work this guy is; Augustus could feel his lips turning into a snarl – he knew in his gut what
this
was; he knew that he shouldn’t feel this way, but he could not help himself.

The muscular man in the jacket leaned against the door frame lazily, his weirdly colored eyes cold and unflinching. “Jasmine’s a bit tied up right now,” he offered, the smallest of smirks gracing his lips, “I’ll tell her you’re looking for her, what was your name?”

Augustus laughed to himself and crossed his arms, “I’m sure that’s high on your list of priorities there uh Sheila, but the
grown-ups
need to talk, so why don’t you do me a favor.”

The biker’s smirk widened.

Augustus raised his chin up high, bringing it down in emphasis, “Pound sand.”

The man scoffed, “Sit your rascal and go to sleep old man,” he looked away from Augustus and started to close the door.

Putting one foot forward, Augustus kept his shoe in the door.

The biker waited a moment and then opened the door back up, slowly turning his head to face Augustus, “Don’t make this worse than it is,” I’ll gladly take that challenge bub.

Kissed by fire, Augustus felt his chest rise, his foot still planted in the door’s path, “That your bike out there?”

The man said nothing, but gave away everything.

“It’s nice,” Augustus said and gave a chuckle, cracking his knuckles, “shame what happened to it, looks like someone just had a bad, bad night and keyed the hell out of it: I love Jesus, but hey at least you’re religious.”

The biker’s lips clamped together tightly and his nose flared, “You’re bluffing,” he said matter of factly, “you touch my shit and I’ll snap your arm off.”

Augustus was practically giddy with rage at this point, hopping up on his tiptoes and setting back down on the balls of his feet, unable to stop from smiling. “You’re so easy,” he said, “that’s why she’s with you, you know, because she knows just how simple it’d be to control you.” His eyes drifted down to the floor of Jasmine’s little home, spying something out of place.

“Yeah,” the biker said, “keep thinking that,” was that . . . blood? Augustus looked down at his feet, spotting more drops of red. “She’s looking for a
real
man, bro.”

Augustus brought his gaze back to the man, and then moved to try to look into the house further, “Jasmine! Get your ass out here,” he called loudly, stepping forward to try and get inside.

The biker douche put himself in Augustus’ path, “Hey what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The man gave Augustus a hard shove.

Oh now you’ve done it dickweed, Augustus rebalanced himself, “Get out of my way,” he growled, returning with a hard push against the biker’s chest.

He stumbled backwards, not quite coming to a fall.

Jasmine called out Augustus’ name and lightning shot through his heart; she didn’t sound like she was hurt. Out of the corner of his eye, Augustus saw something come at him in a blur and he reflexively moved out of the way, only just dodging a punch.

The biker positioned himself for a follow up, “Don’t ever put your hands on me,” the man lashed out, throwing another punch.

This time, Augustus was ready. With his pulse racing, he brought up his open hand and caught the man’s fist, using his motion against him and deflecting the blow and following through with a hard cross to the biker’s face.

Cursing beneath his breath, the Biker lunged at Augustus, knocking him down to the hard floor.

The two became ensnared in a deadly struggle, tossing and turning; exchanging flurries of blows. The biker’s fist came crashing down against Augustus’ jaw, and then a blow to his gut knocked the wind from his sails.

He was in over his head.

First there was a loud click of two pieces of metal coming together, and then Augustus’ body went limp with fear, the blade pressed up hard against his neck – the man pinning him and looking down into his eyes. The biker’s nose had a trickle of blood running down the one nostril, “Not so tough now are ya? You ready to calm down?” Augustus thought that he didn’t look ready.

Drawing in a series of quick breaths, his chest rising and falling, Augustus shook his head.

Jasmine came into the room shouting, “Luke! Get off of him.”

Luke gave the man one last lingering look before sliding off of him and finding his footing. He then looked over to Jasmine, “Sorry.”

“What the hell happened?” She asked, weather she meant Luke or Augustus himself, he did not know.

“I saw blood,” Augustus said, a strain in his voice. He turned on the floor and pushed himself up, rising to his feet. “I hadn’t heard from you and I—well, I guess it doesn’t matter now,” he let out a frustrated breath, “it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Augustus’ heart felt as though it had just been shanked; he glimpsed the sutured wound on Jasmine’s shoulder.

Luke stepped back a couple of feet, staying silent now.

Jasmine brushed back a strand of her thick, raven colored hair, “I was meaning to tell you—“

“Were you?” He spat, “because, I was getting the impression that you were waiting to blow me off for this . . .” Augustus looked the man over again, he turned his gaze back to Jasmine, “that cocky blowhard is trouble, Jas, I pity that you can’t see that.”

Luke crossed his arms, “Surprised you can see us from that high horse.”

Jasmine looked away from Augustus, “I think you should just leave, Gus.”

Heat curled against his chest. How could she do this? “No,” he growled, “look at your arm, tell me that didn’t have anything to do with this guy,” Augustus chuckled with dark amusement in his voice, “what you actually think this is gonna stop? You, you think that if you love someone enough and be a good enough person you’ll just wipe the slate clean?” Luke’s eyes narrowed, “real change is hard, sweetheart, and it’s the hardest thing. I don’t know the man,” Augustus locked eyes with the biker, “but I know if you stay with him, the only time I’ll be hearing about you is in the obits.”

Luke moved over to Augustus while Jasmine remained quiet as stone.

“Don’t worry,” Augustus said, putting up his hands, “I’m
gone
.” His eyes stung something fierce, catching a last glimpse of Jasmine’s face – her eyes spying his just as he left.

The cold night air didn’t feel as chilling as it had. Not anymore.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Jasmine

Curled up and half naked, Jasmine was on the couch snuggled up against Luke’s chest. She felt a lingering twinge of pain in her chest, and a cloak of guilt wrapped itself around her person. You shouldn’t have been so cruel, she thought. Augustus wasn’t supposed to find out like that . . .

She was sure that he would hate the both of them, especially her, from now on – he’d reacted very strongly; but he wasn’t right, was he? A sense of dread crept through her chest. Jasmine turned her head up and kissed Luke’s chin, her lips brushing against some stubble.

The feeling did not depart.

Luke looked down at her and gave that special smile, “Feeling better?”

“Little bit,” she confessed, though her arm was still hurting something fierce, between the small alcohol buzz and the fistful of Advil, she did feel
some
relief. “Luke . . .”

“Hmn?”

“I’m scared she won’t stop,” fingers of ice raked along her spine, the psychotic smile still fresh in her mind’s eye.

“Kayla got the point,” he assured, his voice low and dark as dusk; he twined his finger’s in Jasmine’s hand. “I’m gonna have someone from the Club keep tabs on her for a while. I’ll crash at Gabe’s until I can get my own place.”

Jasmine let out a shaky breath and nodded her head in understanding, “Okay.” She felt his lips on the crown of her head and warmth flooded her delightfully.

“It’ll be okay baby,” he whispered, “all that matters is that I have you, that every day I’ll do what I can to earn you.”

“I’m not some token to be put on display, Mr. Reynolds,” Jasmine coyly jabbed.

“No,” he smirked, kissing from the top of her face slowly down to her ear – leaving a hot, passionate trail in his wake, “you’re not. Doesn’t mean I won’t worship you like the church I never had; you’re all the religion I need, babe.”

Lovely little fingers pressed against Jasmine’s chest and a deep ache formed between her legs; the pain in her shoulder and the nick in her foot and the guilt in her heart all deemed like distant memories now. “Mm, are you trying to say you’re only going to eat me on Sunday’s?”

“With a body like yours? My jaw’s gonna need surgery by the end of the year.”

Jasmine laughed hard, the pain spiking in her shoulder – she didn’t care, she simply turned over so that her chest, only covered by her black bra, pressed up against Luke’s. She looked him in his beautiful eyes and kissed his lips long and deep. The feeling of his hand on her small ass sent flutters through her stomach.

His smile was intoxicating and his eyes searched Jasmine’s deep, “I can’t stay, club business. Already pushing it by being here,” his smirk widened half an inch, “but there is one thing I want to do before I go.”

I don’t want you to go, “What’s that?” Jasmine brushed her nose against his own. Just stay, please . . .

Luke leaned in close to Jasmine’s ear, the hot licks of his breath on her neck; he whispered seductive and smooth as smoke, “Make your pussy come hard all over my face, and have you lick up your own mess.” Oh sweet baby Jesus.

Jasmine’s nipples suddenly came to life with need, heat linking them to her clit, which she was now painfully aware of. Her bones drank in his words and her skin danced with electricity, having to stifle a whimper.

Luke turned her over in a quickness, that wolfish grin on the lines of his face; but he did not handle her
too
roughly, of which she and her sutures were thankful. Having done those bad boys with just one hand was quite the task.

Jasmine let out a small gasp, her blood becoming fire as she watched her paramour slowly peel back the sexy black of her panties – with his teeth no less. I need it, she thought.

Luke tossed the panties to the side and grabbed a pillow from behind his person on the end of the couch, lifting up Jasmine’s hips and sliding it beneath her.

Oh, fuck. The first touch of his lips at her alter of love was enough to make her heart jump into her throat. In an instant she felt heaven-touched.

He flicked his tongue across the length of her already glistening pink folds, “Mmm, someone’s an eager little girl.”

Jasmine brought her hands down to Luke’s head and pressed him against her sex, “Don’t stop,” she commanded more so than begged.

Luke’s tongue traced along Jasmine’s wet folds, exploring her delicate region with fervor; his every motion was like another stroke of the pen charting a map – the man seemed intent to know every nook, and the deftness of his tongue worked her hard.