His smirk vanished, replaced by the wild rage that had been popping in his eyes all night. “Stop fucking saying that. You’re mine.” He slammed into me, proving a point. “Say it, Cameron. Whose pussy is this?”
I moaned idiotically, thinking with my ovaries, but I managed to shake my head.
He fisted my hair, his hips undulating, as he pulled my legs up a little for a better penetration angle. “Fine. I’m gonna keep filling you up until you say it.”
“Fuck, Dusty. No.”
“Yes.” His hips crushed mine. “Fucking yes. A million times yes.” He made me take his thick ropes of cum as he pushed my ankles back to my shoulders, determined to give me every drop and keep it inside.
Our gazes locked, and our labored breaths danced the dance of war. I should be raging and fighting, but the part of me—perhaps all of me—that loved Dusty understood where his actions came from. He loved and wanted me more than anything, and so did I. I might have even found what he’d just done to me hot, and my heart was begging me to forgive his violent tendencies and stay.
I wished I could have.
His face paled, as if he could read my eyes and what I wanted to say without words. “Cammie, no. I love you.”
A tear fled my eye as the images of Samuel’s smashed, bloody face haunted me. “I love you, too,” I rasped, but I knew if I didn’t leave now, I wouldn’t pull Dusty out of the Night Skulls like he thought he could so we’d live together in peace. It was I that was going to be a Night Skull, living by their hideous code of sickness, evil, murder and mayhem, betraying my sister’s memory, turning into a monster like the ones who raped and murdered her. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
His bright eyes dimmed and misted. “Cammie…”
I held his face between my hands and crushed my lips on his. One last time.
CHAPTER 4
Dusty
She just needs space.
I kept telling myself that as I thundered into the night back to Rosewood. The humid, cold air lay heavy on my face and lungs as I reached South Beach. The bay looked dead on this moonless night and the hills deader.
The salty wind retracted as I rode farther through the hills. I rounded an unmarked turn that led straight to a dirt road flanked by untamed greenery. The hidden path to what was supposed to behome. Except that Rosewood never felt like home for me. Ever.
I only knew the meaning of that word in Cameron’s arms.
I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have let her leave. Should’ve stopped her. Kidnapped her like she thought I was.
Shit. What the fuck is happening to me?
Maybe she was right. The club was really messing with my head or worse. Maybe I was my father’s son after all.
No!I kicked the thought out of my head. The bright lights and rock music from the estate greeted me as I killed the engine of my Harley.
It was after three a.m., and the party was still going. A bonfire in the front yard. Hammered brothers in beach chairs barely lifting their hands to wave at me. Fucking sounds came from inside the house as I climbed the patio stairs. ‘Hey, Prez’ low murmurs accompanied me as I walked through spilled beer, side-stepped naked bodies strewn all around, and turned down the stereo behind the bar.
“All right. Party is over, Skulls,” I commanded, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the liquor cabinet.
The slightly-sober brothers started to ease out of the living room and the halls. The others would be dead till the afternoon. I wouldn’t bother wake them.
I grabbed a glass and downed a shot. Then I decided to take the bottle to my room. If I walked into Mama or that fucker Rush now, I’d wage another war. My rage had caused me a lot tonight. Damage that I didn’t know how to fix. Whether it could be fixed. Enough damage for one night.
I dragged myself and the tequila upstairs to my room, men and women still spilling out to their own rooms or outside where they would continue the party somewhere else.
Rosewood was a huge estate. Roar had got it in exchange for some ass gambler’s debt and life. A mansion of sorts with plenty of room for the Skulls and their fucktoys. Secluded and swallowed by a small forest. Perfect for the club and business. It was pretty before, but now it was a dump. The pool drained. The garden a disaster. Even the paint and wallpaper inside washed out.
Finally, I reached mychambers.The only clean place here. Nobody ever bothered to clean in Rosewood, and if I hadn’t told them to keep my room nice, it would have been a dump, too.
I locked the door and plopped down on the bed. Then I downed three more shots in quick succession. The look Cameron gave me before she left wouldn’t quit haunting me.
With the patch on my back and the tattoos spread on my body, people always had looked at me as a Night Skull, assuming the worst, whether I’d done it or not.