Page 140 of Cold Bastard
I had been nursing the same bottle for over an hour, watching condensation drip down the glass and pool on the bar top. The music pounded through the speakers. Some heavy metal shit that Garrote had picked, but I barely heard it. The bass vibrated through my chest, a steady thump that matched the hollow ache that had taken up permanent residence there.
Three weeks.
Three weeks since Coco Beach. Three weeks since I watched her push me away and tell me what we had was nothing. Three weeks since I walked out of Maverick’s office knowing I had lost her all over again.
Around me, the clubhouse was alive with the kind of debauchery that used to feel like home. Wanderer had a club whore bent over the pool table, fucking her hard enough that the balls scattered with each thrust. Cerberus was on the couch with two women, one riding his cock while the other sat on his face. Vortex and Cobalt were tag-teaming another whore in the corner, her moans barely audible over the music.
I didn’t care.
Couldn’t care.
All I could see washer. The way she looked at me in that office. The way her body had responded, even as her mouth told me to leave. The way she cried after I walked away.
“It was just sex.”
Bullshit. It was everything. And she knew it. And I still left because she asked me to, because I was trying to be different, trying to be the man she needed instead of the monster I had always been, and it was killing me.
“You gonna drink that or just stare at it all night?” Carver’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I didn’t look at him. “Fuck off.”
“That’s what I thought.” He leaned against the bar beside me, his arms crossed. “You’ve been sitting here like a corpse for three weeks, brother. It’s getting old.”
“Then don’t look at me.”
“Hard not to when you’re broadcasting misery like a fucking beacon.” He paused. “She’s not coming back, Nano. You need to accept that and move on.”
Move on.
Like it was that simple. Like I could just forget her. Forget the way she felt in my arms. Forget the way she looked at me when she said my name. Forget the way she had broken me, just as thoroughly as I had broken her.
“I said fuck off, Carver.”
He sighed but didn’t push it.Smart man.
The music shifted to something heavier, and Morpheus’ voice cut through the noise from across the room. “Lollie, get your ass over here.”
I glanced up just enough to see Morpheus settling into his chair, his jeans already unbuttoned. Lollie dropped to her knees between his legs without hesitation, her mouth opening as she reached for his cock.
Business as usual.
This was the Brotherhood. This was what we did. We fucked, we drank, we lived without apologies or regrets. Except I had both. So many fucking regrets I couldn’t breathe under the weight of them. I lifted the beer to my lips and forced myself to swallow. It tasted like ashes.
The doors opened.
I didn’t look up. Didn’t care. Probably another club whore looking to earn her keep, or maybe one of the prospects returning from a run. It didn’t matter. But then the music cut off. Abruptly, mid-song. The sudden silence was so jarring that even the brothers mid-fuck paused, looking toward the entrance, and then I felt it. The shift in the air. That electric charge that made every hair on my body stand on end.
No.I looked up and there she was.
Alex.Standing in the doorway like an avenging angel, her hair wild from the wind, her leather jacket dusty from the road. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the debauchery, the naked bodies, the brothers frozen mid-thrust, and then her gaze found mine.
Fuck me, and just like that, everything inside me roared to life. The numbness shattered, replaced by a tidal wave of need and rage and desperate, achingreliefthat nearly brought me to my knees. She was here. She came back.
“What thefuck?!” Morpheus’ voice cut through the silence like a whip.
I watched as he shoved Lollie off his cock, the woman stumbling backward with a startled yelp. He stood, tucking himself back into his jeans with sharp, angry movements, his expression thunderous. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, stalking toward Alex with the kind of predatory intent that made lesser men piss themselves.
But Alex didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, her chin lifted, her shoulders squared. And something in my chestcrackedat the sight of her defiance.
