“You can’t tell me what to wear. You don’t do it with any of the other girls,” I retort, tugging my arm from his hold. “Why are you like this?” I bite out in frustration.
The man before me has my hands fisting at my sides. He takes a step towards me, his eyes practically glowing with anger. With each movement he makes, I move back. Even as my heart thuds wildly in my chest, I’m not scared of him. I may want to run, but it’s because he makes me feel something. He makes me want to stay, to tell him just how much I want to be here, and I can’t do that. I can’t stay.
“I told ye once before,” he speaks, his voice low, commanding. There’s no amusement in his tone, and I know I fucked up. “You’re in my home, and that means, I’m meant to take care of ye.”
His thick Irish brogue has me squirming. I didn’t expect to ever want someone so much, but when Monster leans in, I want nothing more than for him to kiss me. I move away from the stairs, and my back hits the wall.
We’ve been tiptoeing around each other since I arrived. But when I move, so does he. If he’s not close, I seek him out in the crowd. The man who tried to touch me a few nights ago was beaten to within an inch of his life. I have come to realise these men would do anything to keep the women safe. As much as it fills me with warmth, Monster frustrates me.
“I didn’t think he would—”
His hand slams into the wall behind me, causing me to flinch. “Didn’t think he’d want to feck ye? Or didn’t think he’d want to run his hands all over ye?” The anger in his tone is tinged with something else—jealousy.
“Why do you care?” I throw out before I have time to think. Rage blazes in his eyes then, and I realise I’ve just angered the man they call Monster. “I’m sorry.”
He reaches for my chin, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. “If you think for one second you can talk to me like that and get away with it, ye’re sorely mistaken, wee fox.”
The nickname he’s given me makes my cheeks heat. When he first called me that a few days ago, I couldn’t respond. I wasn’t embarrassed, but I didn’t want to admit to myself how much I liked that he’d given me something that was unique to the two of us.
“Why?” I bite out. “You going to spank me?”
My retort has him chuckling. “Oh, darlin’, I’ll gladly put you over my knee,” he tells me, and I know he’s not joking. “Now,” he says. “You be a good girl and get back to work. I have shite to do, and I can’t do it knowing you’re runnin’ around with yer arse hangin’ out while feckin’ arseholes paw at ye.”
He pushes away from me, the heat of his body gone, making me shiver. When he’s far from me, I miss him. And when he’s close to me, it feels as if I’m burning up. It’s stupid. I realise I can’twanta man like him. I’ve come from one violent person, and I cannot be with another.
He leaves. My chest is heaving from being so close to him. The scent of his cologne still hangs in the air, invading my senses. Ignoring his anger, and his order for me to change, I make my way down to the party. Deep down, I’m sure it’s going to end with him in a rage, but if he hasn’t laid a claim to me, he has no say.
When I reach the foyer, I turn left and find Callia watching me with an arched brow. She stops next to me and giggles lightly. She’s probably heard what went down.
“I think someone has a crush,” Callia says when she sidles up to me.
Even though we’re in lockdown, the club bar is busy. With all the brothers here, even a couple of what they call nomads, it’s packed, noisy, and the women who hang around seem to be enjoying the attention.
“What do you mean?” I look at Callia to find a glint in her stare as she side-eyes me.
“You and Monster,” she says then, causing my face to flush. “I’ve never seen him lose his shite like that before. Granted, he’s a grumpy bastard, but that was new to me. There have been fights in the bar before, in the club as well, but he’s always allowed Rebel or Racer to take the lead.”
“He’s just being overprotective because I’m new.”
“I was new once too.” Callia looks away, and I follow her gaze. In the corner of the bar, I spot Rebel, the VP. “But Monster never came to my defence.”
“And Rebel did?” This time, it’s her turn to blush.
She nods. “He did.” There’s a sadness in her eyes, though. Makes me think of unrequited love. The ache that coils deep inside your soul for that one person. But they never notice. The frustration of it must linger long after your feelings are gone.
I look back at Callia. “But you’re not together.” It’s a remark that has her smile falling for a moment.
I shouldn’t have said anything, but my observation was only that the men will defend us, but it doesn’t mean they see us as anything more than projects. They enjoy the protective commands they offer, but it’s only because they’re trying to ensure our safety. I look around and find Rebel, then my gaze lands on the Monster. His face is pinched in anger. I’m pretty sure it’s about me.
He made it clear he didn’t like my outfit, and he made it very fucking clear he wasn’t happy about me coming down here. But there aren’t any men pawing over me as he put it. I think he’s scared everyone off.
“Romance and the road don’t always go hand in hand,” Callia says with a sad tinge to her voice. “Rebel loves his bike more than he’ll ever love a woman.” She sighs softly, her gaze faraway.
I’m convinced she’s a dreamer. There isn’t anything that this girl can’t do. I’m in awe of her. I think it’s incredible she’s able to still look at a man who doesn’t want her and see someone who’s worth the love.
Shaking my head, I look back at Monster and stifle a groan of annoyance. “Aren’t all bikers like that, though?”
She looks over at me and smiles. “That they are, darling.”