My vagina is singing his praises, though, and protesting the idea of not ever being touched by him again.
Shaking my head, I run out into the night, jump into my car, and speed away to the safety of my hotel.
Knowing full well that I’ll be masturbating to relieve the protesting ache between my thighs.
Chapter 10
Leeva
Afterhandingoffmyrental car to the valet, I enter the Empress Hotel. You’d think that after years of exposure to the Wentzell level of wealth, staying in places of such elegance and grandeur would be something I’m used to.
Instead, I nervously walk through the luxurious lobby with its chandelier—which is rumored to be inlaid with diamonds—spilling golden light across the marble floors, expecting security to throw me out on my ass.
The heels of my stilettos click on the floor as I hurry to the bank of elevators to take me to the privacy of my suite. I ensure the belt of my cashmere overcoat is tight, hiding the scandalous black silk dress underneath.
I feel like Julia Roberts, straight out ofPretty Woman, as I walk through the beautiful hotel lobby, hiding the woman underneath. Instead of a sex worker, though, I’m just a woman who had the best sex of her life.
“Good evening, Mrs. Wentzell,” the night manager calls from behind the desk as I pass.
“Hello, Henry. How’s your evening? And please, call me Kathryn,” I add with a friendly smile.
Since running from San Francisco, I’ve gone by an alternative spelling of my middle name, Catherine. Only my Wentzell family—my found family—calls me Leeva now, and only in private.
He dips his chin, a smile gracing his lips. “I’m honored, thank you, Kathryn. And my evening has been lovely, thank you for asking. Is there anything I can get for you?”
Since it’s two in the morning, the only thing I need is my bed.
Or maybe riding the Sybian Saddle and being made to come over and over again, as my wolf had promised.
Pushing that inappropriate thought firmly away, which will only lead me down a dangerous path, I decline Henry's offer and wish him goodnight.
After I take the elevator to my floor, I hurry to my suite and only relax once I’m inside. Moonlight spills through the balcony door’s open curtains, and I flick on a light, then cross the room. After double-checking that the balcony doors are locked, I pause and look out at the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, which seems to glow under the moonlight.
I’ve always loved that bridge. Every Sunday, my parents and I used to picnic in various spots where the bridge was still in view. Once they died, my grandpa, Livewire, took over that tradition until he died. Then Hayes had carried it on…right up until I had run.
Right after I had lost my baby.
Pressing my forehead to the glass, I close my eyes, hoping that will somehow stop the pain and memories, but knowing damn well it won’t.
I had been such a fool back then.
A foolish, naïve young girl to think that Guerilla actually loved me, and that he wouldn’t be like so many of the other bikers who didn’t know the meaning of monogamy. I became his old ladyway too young, and in hindsight, I know I never should have become it at all. Ever.
But I was so ecstatic when I got pregnant because I had the chance to be a mother, to try to be an amazing and loving mom just like my own had been. I had planned to lavish so much love on my child that it almost didn’t matter who the father was. I had a chance to fill the aching void that the deaths of my parents had left. I had a chance to build a family like the one I had before my parents were taken from me.
Back then, I was way too thin, dangerously so—Hayes was right to be concerned. I wasn’t healthy enough to avoid putting my baby at risk. I know I can’t totally blame myself, and that my child might not have survived even if I’d been the picture of health. But the shock and horror of walking in on Guerilla cheating on me with three of the Club Pussy might have pushed my body past what it could handle.
I had lost my baby, a little girl, due to a placental abruption.
In the hospital, it was Hayes who was there, not Guerilla. It was Hayes, my best friend, who held me as I shattered.
And it was Hayes who admitted that he knew that Guerilla had cheated on me previously, but he had decided to keep that from me. He never told me.
You’re dead to me, Hayes.
Those were the last words I spoke to my best friend. He left, thinking he was giving me some space, but I took the opportunity to run.
I wasn’t medically ready to leave the hospital—physically or mentally—but that didn’t stop me. I ran from Guerilla. From Hayes. From everyone connected to the Havoc Guardians, even though they were the only family I had left.
