Page 141 of Forged in the Fire
He didn’t push it beyond that.
He’d crawl into bed long after I’d fallen asleep, the man a vat of whiskey and cherries that I’d float in for the night, and he’d be gone when I woke each morning.
Without fail, I’d be sticky and sweaty and pulsing with need.
My dreams had become both vivid and surreal.
In them, I allowed him to touch me.
To take me.
To own me the way he’d admitted that he wanted to.
I didn’t know how it’d happened, but I’d allowed myself to fall into the strange, terrifying comfort of this place.
Every free minute was spent hanging out in the kitchen with Elena, Kai, and Meems. Falling for them more with each beat.
Care coming on severe every time I glanced their way, that foreign sense that they felt the same way when they looked at me.
Like I mattered, and it kept filling up places that I hadn’t realized had been empty.
I probably would have completely submitted to the comfort of this place—convinced myself nothing was amiss and I was here by choice and not because I’d been forced to be—if it wasn’t for the fact I still hadn’t heard from Dereck.
The only reason I knew he was still alive was because I asked Silas and he told me. It pissed me off that those bubbles were no longer popping up to at least give me an indication that he was still breathing every time I stared at my latest unanswered text.
He was such a jerk.
So thoughtless.
And the longer I was there, the more my anger grew toward my little brother.
It wasn’t right, the way he used me. I wanted to take care of him. Support him. But how the hell was I supposed to do that when he never met me in the middle? I mean, had I even crossed his mind since he’d dropped me here?
I was still watching and waiting for answers, listening in close to conversations and trying to pick up on any intonation or trace.
Hoping one of the bikers at the shop would slip and reveal something they weren’t supposed to.
It turned out, the Crimson Crows were freaking tight-lipped. No sinking ships around here.
So, now I sat at the desk behind the counter in the office, inputting a stack of accounts receivable invoices and trying to make them match up against the payments Torque & Talon had received.
It was kind of a mess.
The move seemed to be the culprit of the disaster, like they’d just picked up and shoved everything into boxes without care or thought.
It didn’t exactly sit right since over the week that I’d been working here, I had come to realize that these bikers actually took the business seriously.
Without fail, they showed up at eight each morning and worked in the shop for hours.
Was it dumb that I’d taken some sort of pride in sorting out their financials? Wanting to help Silas? To fix something for him when I could feel the weight of burden pressing down on his shoulders?
Probably, but at least it kept me busy.
Kept me from succumbing to the frenzy that buzzed at the back of my spirit and mind. A distraction from the dread and worry that sat like a barbed-wire ball at the backside of my heart.
It didn’t matter that I could hear hoots and laughter and distorted voices seeping through the brick walls of the office.
I could still feel the tension that tugged and curdled the air. Every Crow carved in a razor-sharp edge.
