“Go ’head and check in with old Clive,” I tell her, trying to sound chill about it. I get out of bed, my dick sore from hours of fucking her. I turn into the bathroom. “I’ll shower quick and get us something to eat.”
Violet must have picked up her phone the second I got out of bed because I hear a beep, and then a voice message starts to play.
“Shoot.” Violet tries talking over the voice. “I must have put it on speaker.”
She fumbles with her phone in the dark bedroom, but I stop dead in my tracks as I hear the message.
“You fucking cunt.” The voice is seething with anger. “Answer your goddamn phone.”
I can’t hear everything the man says because I start to see red as soon as he says cunt. I hear him say, “You think this is a game, Violet? You think you can toy with my feelings? Ignore me when you know goddamn well all I want is to take care of you? Make sure you’re safe? Maybe I should give you something you should really be afraid of…”
And then I just go cold.
The last thing that motherfucker says into Violet’s voice mail is a threat—plain and simple.
I swallow back bile and grip my hands into fists. “Violet?” I want an explanation. And I want one now.
She sits up in my bed, my sheets covering her breasts. “It’s nothing,” she says, huffing a sigh. “He doesn’t know where I am and is mad that I wouldn’t tell him. It’s fine. I’m fine.” She drags in a shaky breath and blows it out. After all the gasps and groans I’ve heard from this woman today, this is different. This sounds like fear. “And that’s why he’s my ex,” she says, trying to sound light.
I nod, not that she can see it, and go into the bathroom. I take a hot shower while I think about the ways I could tear this Clive’s face from his body.
Violet may not be mine, but she sure as fuck isn’t his. And I’m going to make sure he knows it.
6
Violet
After a shower, I feel like a totally new person. A new person I hardly recognize in a life I never could have imagined for myself. I had sex with Shadow. Like, mind-melting, intense, amazing sex that is nothing like I’ve ever experienced before.
I had a couple of serious boyfriends before Clive—two, to be exact—but sex was never the highlight of those relationships. With Clive especially, it was always something I did the way he wanted it. He never helped me have an orgasm. He never seemed to care if I was doing anything other than making it good for him.
To be honest, that was not even the worst thing about my relationship with Clive. But as I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a loose, long-sleeved top with a wide-open neck that slides over one shoulder, I’ve never felt more alive.
Shadow is sitting on the couch, his fingers locked together while he stares off into the darkness.
“You waited?” I ask. My hair is still wet and smells like my travel-sized shampoo, vanilla and lavender and delicious. My legs are wobbly, but somehow, walking through the bedroom and seeing Shadow there feels weirdly right. I have to resist the temptation to act like this is normal and just climb into his lap and kiss him.
I don’t know how to act. None of this is normal. But my gosh, I have never felt more satisfied.
When I reach the couch, Shadow rakes his eyes over my body. I can’t read his expression, but he looks lost in thought. My stomach growls, a loud, long sound, and I laugh and pat my belly.
“What time is it anyway?” I ask.
He grins, then gestures toward the door. “Time to see who’s still alive and kickin’.”
I follow him through the door, and as we walk down the corridor back into the compound, Shadow keeps his hand on my lower back. The gesture is protective, but even more than that, it feels possessive. I’m not sure how I should feel about that.
It’s not overbearing like Clive, who liked to drag me by the hand when I lingered too long at a table or got lost in a bookstore scanning the shelves. Shadow may be big and scary, but he’s the thing I am least afraid of in my life right now. I’m going to cling to that feeling of safety for as long as I can.
When we reach the main room of the compound, the whole place has come back to life. There is a massive guy I recognize from last night, growling as he seems to silently direct a group of young guys who are cleaning up the place. Some of the older bikers are already drinking, beers in their hands as they recline on couches and chairs.
We head toward the bar, and Shadow pours us two fresh cups of coffee. He silently hands me one while a biker even bigger than Shadow approaches us.
“Storm won’t blow past for another day.” This man is taller than Shadow, and his black hair is chin-length. He’s got a thick black beard and piercing blue eyes that look cold enough to cut glass. He narrows his eyes and practically looks through me.
“Violet,” Shadow says, cocking his chin toward me. “Drink your coffee. I need a minute. Then we’ll get something to eat.”
I meet his eyes, and I see reassurance there. I feel accepted and looked out for, so even though the room is full of strangers, people I have never met and who all look like they could eat me alive, I’m not afraid.
