Creed’s Honor by Simone Nicholls

I sat on the couch with my knees to my chest, breaking into tiny pieces. The fear was crippling. My anxiety was out of control. And as my arms firmly wrapped around me, it felt like my arms were the only thing keeping me together.

A pounding fist on the wooden front door caused me to jump. God, who was that? Then my blood ran cold. I knew no biker would be pounding on Hade’s front door like that. So, as I walked to the front door, I was ready to face the police.

I swung the front door open with a cold expression and the tears still on my cheeks. But instead of seeing the men in blue, I saw Creed.

I opened my mouth, ready to start another war of words with him when he stepped into the house. He cupped my face with his hands as his lips crashed on mine.

He wasn’t soft. But he never was. His lips claimed mine with aggression, pure angry and damn straight possession, and my reasons why this was wrong disappeared. My hands went to his shoulders. I knew I should push him away, and I knew this wasn’t healthy, yet I kissed him back just as furiously.

Furious that I loved him.

Furious that he had the power to hurt me, yet I still loved him.

He pushed me farther into the house and kicked the front door closed behind him. And his hands gripped my hips, lifting me. His mouth moved in perfect sync with mine. He was a flame, and right now, I was being pulled into the naked blue flame.

When I didn’t open my mouth immediately for him, he growled slightly and then bit my bottom lip. My lips parted. The familiar taste of whiskey and lingering mints suffocated me, flooding me with memories of us, but mainly, it was feeding the addiction.

He was the heroin to my bloodstream. The taste of him, the feel of my body firmly against his chest—I was overdosing on a drug I was in recovery from.

I linked my arms behind his neck as he backed me against the foyer wall, and I was bathing in the euphoria as he pulled back.

I was dazzled. My lips pulsed. My eyes slowly opened, and when my eyes locked with his, I couldn’t inhale. Instead, I froze.

“You said you were praying for me,” he said, his words deep, swirling with dominance as he kept staring into my eyes, his face so close. “You should start praying for yourself, Holly.” He paused, and I couldn’t inhale as fear slowly began to surface, fear of my lust for him. His mouth went to my ear. “It’s not if. It’s when you’ll be moaning my name. It’s not if you’ll love me again. It’s when you are ready to admit it to yourself. Start praying, baby girl, ’cos I’m back.”

He had a cocky smirk as he stepped back.

With those words said, his hands came off me, and I just stared at him as he opened the front door. I didn’t take a breath until it was closed.

Oh. Fuck.

* * *

I sat staring into the burning fire, watching the wood slowly crackle and burn. I had just closed the curtains. No one was home. I assumed Dad would be hosting another party for Creed’s chapter. Mum would be busy organising the food, and everything else that was involved with a full visiting chapter.

Hearing the front door open, I heard his footsteps before I saw him.

“Aunt Hols, Aunt Hols!” Connor came running around the corner, not coming to a halt till he was right in front of me. His bright blue eyes were wide with delight, and his normal cheeky grin was on his face. “Guess what I did today.” He was busting with excitement, “I go to owange pwace to see Dad!”

My eyes widened slightly. Fuck. I was quick to turn around to see Ivy. I could tell from here she wasn’t okay. Connor only knew prison as the “orange place.” Because Taron, Connor’s father, was currently doing three years.

I looked back at Connor. “That’s great! It sounds like you’ve had a big day, and if you are quick, I know for a fact there are chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen.” I watched Connor’s eyes go wide before he hightailed it out of there.

“Owwie not eat ’em all!” he yelled before leaving the room completely. I watched Ivy step into view and pulled back the blanket that was on my lap. She sat beside me, and I placed the blanket on her lap too.

She crossed her legs, focusing her eyes on the fire now.

I didn’t know what to say. I knew Taron and her, well, they had issues.

I watched the tears as they swelled in her eyes. And I put my hand on her knee. “Ivy, you’re doing a great job,” I said just as the tears dropped onto her cheeks.

“Do you ever wish you could just leave this lifestyle?” Her words were low, and she tucked her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear. “Like all of it? Dad, Kobra, Satan’s Bastards… this town…” The tears rolled down her cheeks.

We were Kincaids. We were born into this lifestyle. Even though we were girls, we were still born into a lifestyle. Our love for our family extended to the club and could never be questioned. We would stand by it until it burnt to the ground. Till death took us, we would always be linked to this club.

However, that didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about the what-if, just as Ivy was now. What if we hadn’t been born into this lifestyle. What if we had gotten a choice of being in it. What if we packed up our car and never looked back. In some ways, you’d think all our problems would be solved.

Ivy wouldn’t be worried about Connor becoming a member.

But the club ran through our blood. It was imprinted in our DNA.

Ivy dropped her head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around her. I wished I could help her. But the fact was, the problems she was having all steamed back to one thing—she gave her heart to a biker. Whether she would admit it or not, she loved Taron.

Loving a biker felt like you gave up your soul and sanity. Because you’d easily trade your soul for them, but what was just as bad was how you were prepared to love them past the point of sanity. What they did in the name of the road and the greater good of the club—you accepted it, even if that meant ten years behind bars or never having a straight conversation with you, dodging details. More importantly, while they would always be first in your eyes, you would only ever be second in theirs. The club, their brotherhood—well, that came first.

So, when admitting you loved a biker, always be prepared to be second. You’d think no woman who had sanity would choose that. Hell, fall in love with a suit, a businessman. You could be the centre of their world, first in their eyes. Heck, the chances of them going behind bars were less too. When you sat down for dinner, the chances were they would tell you what really happened that day. Not dodging details or giving the classic line of “club business.”

Yeah, not loving a biker would be easier. Yet, here Ivy and I sat—both having the same core issue. What made sense and what we really wanted, well—they were two different things. The question I had been asking myself, over and over, since Creed left was, do I let the biker claim my heart or do I fight it.

I continued to turn my phone in my other hand, debating it. In the end, I loved Creed, but that type of love would kill you in the end. There was no happy ending. So I knew as soon as Ivy went to put Connor to bed that I was calling Trey, taking another step closer to a citizen relationship, and one step away from the biker getting my heart.

But instead, I took one step towards a more toxic relationship than I could ever have had with a biker.