Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance (4 page)

Jasmine plucked it from his grasp with careful finger and twirled it between index and thumb, looking it over once more closely. “Thank you,” she murmured, “I’ll put it in a vase when I get home,” she smirked. “No, it’s very pretty,” she assured, holding it against her lap. “I still don’t trust you, though; I’ll have you know I’m a notorious biter and a kicker . . . and a screamer. So it’d probably be safer if we just went to your place, ate pizza and watched Netflix.”

Luke shook his head, “Wow all those talents and you chose to be a doctor? You could have had a promising career as the wailing kick-biter girl. And yeah, you shouldn’t
ever
trust me, babe.” Fire speared itself against her breast at being called that.

The ever frightening prospect of being seemed a little lighter then, waves of content washing over her person. Jasmine’s heart warmed when she felt his arm squeeze tighter.

***

Later that night Jasmine did exactly as Luke had said she would.

She caved. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, even if she was sore all over and ready for an early sleep – she just had to see what it was the man had in store for her; it seemed only fair to entertain him, considering the glass rose that he had gotten her.

Jasmine smiled inside at the thought of it.

Luke had not confessed as to where they were going, only that ‘his guys’ would keep ‘the place’ open until nine. Something about moving to a new location.

As the roads dragged on, Jasmine found herself drifting into a content state as she hugged tight Luke’s hard core. Her mind started to wander to dark places, and she wondered why she’d never slept with a man so in shape.

Maybe he was just out of her league. It was still impressive as all hell the way the man handled his bike; his style a mix of caution and calculated maneuvers, coupled with dangerous speeds and risky use of the motorcycles slender nature. If the police had any idea some of the shit he was pulling . . . still, for some reason she felt safe with him at the wheel.

Eventually reaching the designated spot, Luke’s bike rolled to a stop just outside of a lone warehouse. It did not look abandoned or old or anything of the like, but it
did
look closed. Luke kicked up the stand and hopped off of the bike. There weren’t any lights on.

“Looks closed,” Jasmine commented, “should I be afraid or something? Or am I just being paranoid?” It did seem strange to be out in the middle of nowhere with the man, going into some closed down warehouse at night. Jasmine had to brush off the idea that she was in a really bad horror film.

“What? No come on,” Luke brushed back his hair, “it’s already costing me two C-notes so get your pretty ass over here,” he commanded in such a way that Jasmine actually . . . liked it.

Heat kissed her cheeks; he complimented my butt! “Okay,” she said, slipping off of the bike, “but I’ve got my phone on me and the police are on speed dial.”

“Hilarious,” he motioned ‘come hither’ and waited a moment for her to catch up.

Entering through a quiet little door on the side of the building, Jasmine was surprised to see that the building was well illuminated on the inside – how none of it showed through the windows was beyond her.

The interior was not filled to capacity; there were only a couple of rows of heavy boxes lined up on either end of the room atop their respective pallets. In the center of the room were two men in orange jumpsuits sitting around in fold-up chairs; they turned their heads and said something to one another, big smiles on their faces.

Jasmine noted the large air tube in which the two men were sitting next to, a construct of steel and glass and blue padding. She shot the biker a glare.

“What?” He smiled, “you didn’t ask if it was
indoor
skydiving.”

Nope, nope-nope-nope, “Not happening,” Jasmine announced, turning on her heel and making for the door.

Luke reached out a hand to grab Jasmine’s wrist, “Ah ah ah, where do you think you’re going.”

Jasmine playfully tugged her arm trying to wriggle free, but the man’s grip was firm and resolute on keeping her there. She spun around, “There is
zero
chance I’m getting in that thing, you can’t make me,” she could hardly believe how childish her tone came across.

“I can,” he assured, bringing himself closer to Jasmine, the corner of his mouth upturning, “and I will. Once you get your wings, you won’t want to be without ‘em. Trust me.”

Adrenaline filled her in a hot rush; it’s exciting to have him so close, I could lose myself in that chest . . . “No way,” she rejected, “the day I get in that thing is the day that pigs fly.”

Raising his brows high Luke quipped, “Hope you like bacon.”

The jumpsuit wasn’t as snug as she would have liked. It was becoming hard to resist the urge to want to bite at her fingernails. Jasmine was sure that she could see the headlines now:
Pigs Fly, God Bless America and Science
. I can’t believe I let him drag me into this, she quietly shook her head and glimpsed Luke who looked positively boyish and giddy; definitely a hard contrast to the man’s usual gruff and dark charm. Still, the man’s excitement was smoothing things over some – his energy was infectious.

Luke’s hand found Jasmine’s. Warmth blossomed in her chest and hand. It shouldn’t feel this good to be touched by him, she thought. The man gave a thumb up to the men outside, and in response one of them pulled a lever; a torrent of wind kicked up hard beneath their feet.

Jasmine’s heart already began to race as she was lifted into the air, only realizing a moment later just how hard she was squeezing Luke’s hand. Up and up they went, four feet and then twice that – every bone in Jasmine’s body wanted to crawl from her skin.

Luke let out a joyous whoop, looking at Jasmine, still holding her hand. “Just look at me,” he shouted above the din, “isn’t this amazing?”

Grabbing hold of his other hand, Jasmine shouted back, “I hate you so much right now,” fingers plucked at the strings of her chest and a fire swam freely through her veins; she smiled, harder than she had in a long time.

“Sure you do,” he called back, removing Jasmine’s hands from his own.

“Oh no!” She yelped, to the current. After a moment of aimless floating, she started to laugh; Jasmine spun around and hollered in excitement, craning her head to look back at Luke, feeling his eyes on her. “Take a picture, asshole. It’ll last longer.”

***

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Luke said, slipping off of his motorcycle and walking beside Jasmine.

“That was fun,” she sheepishly admitted. The only source of light aside from the stars was the porch light above the oak front door. Jasmine’s home was simple enough, sequestered a couple of houses away from neighbors – all of her expenses were bundled together in a 3-month lease.

A smile walked along Luke’s face, “Knew you’d enjoy it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jasmine said. “You were right, don’t get used to it.” She ascended the front steps and slipped her key into the lock. Jasmine turned to face Luke, he was dangerously close, “thanks again for today,” she whispered and searched his eyes, a flicker of heat forming in her chest.

“It was my pleasure,” Luke moved in closer slowly, putting a hand on the door, his arm nearly brushing Jasmine’s shoulder. An unseen energy floated between them as the man leaned in to press his lips against hers.

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to give in – but a voice called out in the back of her mind, lamenting that she was not good enough; that she would only get burned again. She turned away, and he pursued. Those lips hung just an inch away, promising the sweetest and most seductive of things. She caught his beautiful eyes once again, but shook her head, “I’m sorry,” she offered quietly, “I-I can’t.”

“Why?” He susurrated.

Jasmine moved back an inch, pressing up against the door and brushing back her hair, “I don’t want to ruin something so good.”

The wind whispered as heartbeats passed, every second sending another fresh wave of temptation. Luke stepped back, “Okay,” he said finally, nodding before backing away, “I’ll see you,” he waved and got on his bike before hollering, “try not to miss me too much.”

Jasmine watched him as his bike’s engine roared to life and he rode away. She stood there a while, balling her hand into a tight fist.

Day Seven of Seven

It was a long week that was made even harder by the fact that she could not resist her . . . urges, whenever she saw Luke around the hospital. He had let her know that, although a charming notion, he was not here for just
her
. Like I’d ever buy that, but what exactly was he here for? He seemed to be hanging around the pharmacy more often than not.

He’d admitted as much to having feelings for her, and the near kiss they shared last night. She smiled to herself. His desert rose, she mused, I like that.

Luke had mentioned that he had been visiting a couple of members of his MC, the Steel Knights; this was his surface reason for being at St.Augustine, but that wasn’t exactly convincing. These bikers were admitted often and each new admittance was typically worse than the last. Grim business being a badass – although really could she even say that?

Was it badass to do the things that they did? Save for Luke himself, most of the men she’d seen were convicts or degenerates that got together to commit some serious crime.

It was hard to push the demon of a man from her mind. Why couldn’t she just stop thinking about him? The sinister snake of doubt slithered through her mind, hissing in her ear that he couldn’t be all that he seemed; that he was in a bad business – she never heard much good about an MC. Most of them were just gangs.

She pushed the thought from her mind and pressed her hand along the line of her womanhood, against her white cotton panties. Jasmine stroked herself inside of the bathroom stall, stifling her moans as best she could, her clit aching with need. She closed her eyes and ink blotted everything out, images of a shirtless Luke swimming through her mind. She could see his hard, chiseled body – as if Michael himself sculpted the man through painstaking years of love and labor.

He pinned her against the bed, kissing long and deep – his mouth delightfully warm and full of hunger against her own. She writhed her hips and circled her pulsing bud. His hands moved up her blouse artfully, like she were a blank canvas for which he was to paint his masterpiece, and her core wound itself with need. She reached her hand inside of her panties now, letting her fingers explore the wetness.

Bzzt. She felt her pager go off and a jolt of adrenaline shocked her system, her body twitching in surprise.

Fuck.

She pulled her fingers from her swollen clit and looked down at her slick fingers. Jasmine groaned and unlocked her stall; passingly wondering how satisfying it might sound to hear that device break into a dozen something pieces. She moved to the sink and scrubbed her hands.

***

Racing down the hall images of Luke floated through Jasmine’s mind. That wolfish smile on his face, the way his hooked nose complimented his features – the exotic and alluring appeal of his Heterochromia eyes. A strange sense of dread shrouded her body.

She cursed herself for liking him. Cursed herself for letting him sink his hooks into her and befriending him; yes she was lonely, but was it safe to get close to someone again? Her job was practically her whole life – she prided herself on not needing others. Especially since Marcus.

We’re nothing alike, she thought. Even if I like him . . . I have to keep my feelings in check. When she arrived at the scene, there was more blood than she’d ever seen in her entire career: so much red. Jasmine put on her latex gloves, the wail of the patient’s machine punching the air. The nurses were frantically moving. There was blood all across the floor, droplets of red rolling down the medical bed and splatting against the tile.

Severe lacerations across the face, a bloodied ring on his finger, and a gaping hole along the patient’s suprasternal notch. Knife wound. The man’s black hair was a scattered mess, soaked in sweat and crimson. Everything slowed down, and for a second Jasmine thought that she would hit her rhythm as she usually did. But she could not banish the creeping feeling of familiarity, could not escape the fact that her own muscles worked against her.

The dying man shook violently against the bloodied bed, his head swaying from side to side – eyes glazed over; the reaper’s scythe wasn’t far away, she had to do something. Anything. The bloodied mess of a man repeated a broken phrase, as if it might ground him to the living world a few minutes longer. “
Chains are black!
” He howled. “
Trusted him,
” he croaked, blood spewing from his mouth, “
turned his back
.”

The nurses looked to Jasmine with the fear in their eye. She could feel them, all their looks – even the ones that weren’t staring at her. For some reason, all she could focus on was the blood and the horrible words that he repeated. She felt herself shake like a branch helpless to the screeching wind.

“Doctor Giuseppe!” Derek Wentworth, a male nurse, cried out as he tried to pump a bag of blood into the man’s system. For the third time in her life, she hesitated and the man flat lined.