Chains by Kristine Allen

“Not  Meant  To  Be”—Theory  Of  A  Deadman

Man, fuck this shit.

“Jazz, you’ve had enough. Let’s go.” If I had to watch another man put his hands on her, I was going to lose my ever-loving mind. The second she started to walk off with the douche, I told Venom I was taking her home for Angel. He cocked a brow but didn’t call me on the bullshit excuse.

We both knew Angel wouldn’t have asked me to take his sister home. Venom sent Ghost and Blade with me, since we were the three who had ridden down. I wondered if he also figured Jasmine was safer with witnesses. Or was it me he was worried about? There was no way our perceptive president didn’t know there was something off with me and Angel’s sister.

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” she snapped as I dragged her to the exit. Thankfully, she didn’t fight me too hard, because if I had to, I would’ve thrown her over my shoulder. We broke out into the cool spring air, and I brought her over to where the bikes were parked.

“Because you’re drunk and your brother isn’t here to do it. Now get on the bike.”

Ghost and Blade remained silent as they sat on their bikes and pulled on their helmets and gloves.

“You’re such a bastard!” she spat, and I gave her a wicked grin. The hissing kitten was better than the zombie with the fake smile she’d been for months.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She huffed and growled in frustration. When I handed her my helmet, she snatched it and shoved it over her hair. “I can’t believe you expect me to ride your bike in this dress. Why can’t I just wait and ride home with Voodoo and Kira? Or Venom and Loralei?”

My gaze traveled over the figure-hugging black dress with little threads of gold that reminded me of her eyes. I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. The anger was dissipating now that we were in the clear night air and away from the assholes that had been panting around her all night. The problem was, it was being replaced with something more dangerous.

“I’m not letting you go back in there without me. So unless you want me getting arrested for assault tonight, I suggest you hitch up that skirt and get your sweet ass on the fucking bike.” I’d leaned in close so I could keep the conversation between the two of us. “You got me?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and I could see the pulse in her neck pounding as she speechlessly blinked up at me. Satisfied that I’d gotten through to her, I mounted up and shot her an expectant glance.

The kitten was spitting mad, but she was smart and did as I said. My brothers started their bikes, and I followed suit. Kickstands up, we were ready. Before we pulled out, I reached back and gripped her ass to pull her tight to my back.

“Hang on,” I told her as we rolled out. She huffed against the back of my neck but did as she was told. When she pressed her long legs around my hips, I momentarily regretted my decision.

The ride back to the compound was damn near perfect. Cool, but not cold. The rumble of the three bikes and warmth of her body wrapped around me was damn near heaven—or as close as I’d probably ever get. If she was back there under other circumstances, it would’ve been better, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Without thinking, I rested my hand on the side of her thigh as we cruised and the miles slipped away in the wind. At first she tensed at my touch, then she melted against my back and her legs hugged me tighter. My grip tightened before I slid my palm down to curl around her calf. I rode like that until we slowed down as we approached the compound.

Once we were parked and the bike ticked as it cooled, I reached back to help her off. She stumbled a bit when her feet hit the ground, and I steadied her as I got off my bike. Ghost and Blade shot me a concerned and warning glance but went inside.

Gloved hand at her elbow, I guided her around the building, punched in the code, and we entered the side door. A sense of déjà vu hit me, as it was the same entrance we’d used the night we met. I shook it off and opened her door before walking her inside.

She spun, and I expected her to lash out at me again, but she pressed her lips together as her eyes raked hungrily over me. My cock cheered, and her pause at my crotch told me she noticed.

I watched as her pink tongue wet her lower lip and she moved into my space.

Defensively, I stiffened when her hands splayed on my chest over my cut. Her fingertips traced the edges of my patches. Then those whiskey-colored eyes lifted to mine.

“You should fuck me, Chains,” she whispered in a sultry plea as her pupils dilated and she inhaled the leather under her hands.

Temptation like I’d never experienced pulled at me, but the still glazed and slightly unfocused condition of her beautiful eyes stopped me. Sober, she wouldn’t let me touch her. With her still being drunk, I knew she’d regret it in the morning.

“No.”

Her gaze dropped, and her shoulders drooped. She stepped back, and I turned to go.

“Chains?” she called, and I longed to hear her say my real name again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I paused, hand reaching for the knob.

“Yeah?”

“Um, can you help me?”

Fuck. I almost made it.

Slowly, I turned to see her pointing to the zipper at the back of her dress. She refused to meet my searching gaze.

“Sure,” I bit out.

Lifting her dark hair, she exposed the back of the dress to me. As my fingers gripped the zipper, I longed to trail my lips along the bared skin of her shoulder and up her neck. The faint scent of her perfume seemed to twist through me, pulling me closer.

With supreme willpower that I didn’t know I was capable of, I lowered the zipper and stepped back. If I was a lesser man, I would’ve taken what she offered and damn the consequences, but I couldn’t do that to her.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t want me again,” she muttered.

“What?” I asked incredulous.

“Oh come on.” She held the front of her dress up as she faced me. “Don’t act like that’s not the case. If I can’t forget what happened, I can’t very well expect you to.”

“Jazz, this isn’t the time to discuss this. You’ve been drinking, my head is less than clear, and my brothers are down the hall,” I said as I dragged my hands down my face.

“When is the time, Chains?” she asked, sneering as she spoke my road name.

“I’m not sure if I’m the one that you should discuss your—” I swallowed hard. “—ordeal with.”

“Ordeal? Ordeal? I was beaten and raped, Chains! Over and over. My brother may have been able to erase the physical damage, but he can’t erase the fucking memories! I’ll never forget that man’s dirty hands on me—his smell, the degradation, the fear, the helplessness. That doesn’t go away! Since your gift is your ability to see everything in someone’s head, I can’t very well expect you to want to touch me, now can I? Can I, Chains?” She was shrieking like a banshee by the end of it, and her hands trembled violently as her teeth chattered.

Pain ripped through me, but I didn’t know what to say or do.

She nearly went to her knees, but I grabbed her and helped her to the bed. She rolled away from me and was still. Unable to leave, but not knowing what the right thing to do was, I laced my fingers at the back of my neck.

When she didn’t make any attempt to finish undressing, I moved to her dresser and pulled out an old T-shirt for her to change into. My chest caved when I realized it was one of my old shirts. I had no idea how she’d ended up with it, but I imagined she grabbed it from the laundry room.

Gently, I set it in front of her.

“I don’t blame you for hating me,” she whispered as I crossed to the door.

My head hung, then I looked back at her, still curled up on the bed.

“I don’t hate you, Jasmine. Hate’s the farthest emotion from my feelings for you.”

As quietly as I could, I left her room.

It was one of the worst nights’ sleep I’d had in a long damn time.

The next morning, there was a knock at my door.

“Yeah?” I called out, not in the mood to talk to anyone.

“Can I come in?”

Fuck.

It was Jasmine.