“Flame, the faux-hawked motherfucker, just caught him some Balaclava meat. The cunt who killed Lois.” That devastatingly handsome smirk spread on his face.
Styx tipped his head back and sighed in pure relief. ETA? he spelled out, Ky voicing his question out loud.
“‘Bout an hour. Told Flame to take him out back. You want the honor, right?”
A hungry grin tugged on Styx’s lips and he cracked his neck as he rolled it from side to side. I did not need this response translated. He had a look of revenge in his eyes. Glancing around the room, he signed, We find these cunts… Then we send them to the boatman, right to Hades.
Styx had quick words with Ky and a few other men I did not know, then came to me. He took my hand and dragged me away.
When he entered the main door to his apartment, he sat me down on the bed, meeting my gaze. “Y-you okay?” He nodded toward the graze on my arm that Beauty had packed and bandaged.
“It is just a graze.”
He began to pace before me on the hardwood floor, each step becoming more and more angry. “Wh-why the f**k d-did they attack?”
“I… I do not know?” I whispered, keeping my head down. I did not like this side of Styx. I suddenly understood why he was feared by so many people—he had a dark side… a frightening side.
Walking to a large panel of wood that separated the bedroom chamber of his rooms, Styx screamed loudly and punched his hand straight through the wood, leaving a large hole, his fall-colored eyes untamed and wild.
Unable to conceal my shock, I shrieked and covered myself on the bed. Styx ignored my fright and disappeared through to the linen closet. He came back with a towel, throwing it on my lap.
“G-get in the shower and clean that f-f-fuckin’ blood off you.”
Losing the battle with my trembling lip, I took the large white towel and scurried into the bathroom. As soon as the door shut, I let my emotions flow freely. Styx was so angry. His attitude toward me had turned cold and sour—just like every other man I had ever known.
I honestly believed that Styx was different.
The man outside was Styx, the Hangmen Mute, the president of an outlaw MC, the man capable of killing with zero remorse. The man outside was no longer the man I knew.
He terrified me.
I walked to the mirror, staring at my rough appearance: wounded arm, messy hair, scratched skin, and dirtied clothes. I was a mess, but all I could think about was Rider injured, Lois dead… and Rider had saved me. Jumped in front of me and saved me. He saved my life. He could die and I—
A hard fist hit the wood of the door, making me jump and bang my elbow on the vanity. “Wh-what the f**k are you d-doing in there? I don’t hear w-water.”
I quickly wiped my eyes and turned on the faucet. I flipped the lever for the shower. I laughed without humor. It was just like the one I had at The Order, and the situation felt all too similar.
“I am going in now,” I shouted back with a shaky voice and set to undressing.
I showered quickly and wrapped the towel around me to dry. I had no other clothes but the filthy heap on the floor, so taking a deep breath, I opened the door and tiptoed through in my scant state.
Styx was on his bed, a cigarette hanging lazily off his bottom lip, strumming a morose melody on his guitar, the lyrics haunting. “You can run on for a long time, but sooner or later, God’ll cut you down.”
Styx looked so dark and powerful as he sat on his bed singing quietly around the smoking white stick in his mouth. My breath caught at the sight. His dark hair fell over his fall eyes and his huge arm muscles flexed with every strum of his fingers on the strings. He was sin personified… A sin I craved… but right now I was out and out afraid of him.
Coughing gently to draw his attention, I fidgeted on the spot, and Styx looked up. His hands froze on the strings as his head lifted slightly. He followed the path of my body, right from my toes to the top of my head.
Blowing white smoke through his nose, never breaking my gaze, he stood, placing his guitar on the chair beside the bed, and slowly walked to where I stood.
Combing long hair out of his eyes with his fingers, he then stroked a finger down my arm, my skin reacting to his touch, shivers blazing up and down my spine.
His finger ghosted down to the knot in my towel, the knot just above my br**sts. “Fuck, Mae, I can’t deal,” he muttered gruffly, tugging at the towel, his large hazel eyes seeming to turn a bright jade green. “I want you so f**kin’ bad. So f**kin’ bad…” Then he left to go to the bathroom, slamming the door as he went.
He did not stutter. Not even once.
My fingers remained gripped on the towel and I shook with nerves. I knew what he wanted and my stomach fell like a rock dropped into a lake. He wanted what all men wanted from me; he wanted what a woman was meant to do for a man… what we were created for. He wanted what I had done for men since I was a child.
With a deep breath, I walked to the large bed, dropped the towel and braced myself in the required position for his pleasure. In no time at all, I heard the tinny pipes of the shower whine to a silence. The water switched off and I bowed down in preparation, forehead to the bed, spread my legs wide, grasping my hands behind my back and sent my mind to the place where I did not feel… anything.
They’d tried to kill Mae. Some f**ker’d tried to kill Mae. Shit! They’d killed Lois.
Lois. Dead. Gone. Known the bitch since I was a kid. Lois, a goddamn sweetheart, beautiful to the core, and I’d f**kin’ crushed her before she was taken out by a rival’s slug.