Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

Tals told him, “I’ll be back tonight to escort you back to Skulls. Preacher’s orders, so don’t try to say no.”

“Where are you going?”

“Figured I’d visit Havoc and give you two some privacy.”

Cage shook his head. “You getting involved in shit I should know about?”

“You’re one to talk. Don’t worry about me, brother. I’m just fine. See you in the morning.” Tals jumped off the porch, got on his bike and gunned it up the road.

For a long moment, Cage stood in the mountain air, letting what Tals said settle in.

Preacher swore the hills of South Carolina were the perfect place to soothe—and save—men’s souls. And that might be true of North Carolina too, because Havoc thrived there, while boasting the rep of being both calm and deadly. What that MC did was far enough removed from civilians and the law to give them some kind of mythological, legendary status.

Cage knew some of them, had visited their compound. Their rep was well fucking deserved. They had no desire to play nice with anyone. They just stayed to themselves and out of most wars, unless an MC fucked with them. And then their army came down from the hills and let their fury loose.

Whatever Tals was doing up there, Cage hoped it was for pleasure and not business.

Cage had been putting bikes together for as long as he could hold a wrench. The irony of being born in the back of a van—and being named after the incident—was something of an inside joke among the Heathens, because “cage” was a derogatory name for a car, which civilians drove, as opposed to the freedom of the bike.

For Cage, it referred to his Heathen lineage and his royalty, so to speak, because his cage was a beat-up Ford Bronco in which his mom had been in active labor, and it had a line of hogs leading it to the hospital. He’d been too damned impatient to wait, a trait that followed him his entire life. He was the firstborn, the golden child, and at that time his mom had been a hot-as-hell old lady his dad had been lucky enough to bag. She’d run away from a very wealthy family to be with his father and, by extension, the MC, and Cage knew she’d regretted it. Not at first, but for sure it was a part of the reason she’d turned to drugs.

She’d been trapped. She’d seen no escape and, in reality, there was none. So whether or not she’d planned to kill herself, she’d already been doing it slowly, years before her actual death.

Which was why everything about Calla concerned him. More often than not, the old ladies of the clubs had grown up around the MC, and if they didn’t, they were well enough versed in the ways of club life. The real version, not the romanticized one.

And then there were the MC groupies. The mamas. Similar to the women who looked for soldiers to marry. They knew what soldiers were capable of, and they knew that the job involved more than wearing a uniform.

Calla knew more than most civilians, unfortunately because of what he’d put her through already. But once that situation was over . . . no matter how hard it was for him, he was going to have to give her the choice to walk or push her out the door.

He knew he was trouble, more than any one woman should have to deal with. He also had an expiration date—if his family had anything to say about it. By running off on his own to get Calla, he knew he might be cutting himself off from the only family who’d ever given a shit about him.

But for now it seemed they were standing by him. He’d go back to Skulls and take whatever he had coming to him.

It was almost time to head to the Vipers MC, and I felt like mourning that. At the cabin, for a little while, at least, we were just Calla and Cage, no pasts, only present. Even though we were both wanted, we were also hidden from the world. We had each other all to ourselves.

Until Tals showed up to rip the curtain away and drag us back to reality.

“Did you ever just want to escape everything? Escape who you are, who you’re supposed to be? Run from the expectations until you know what you expect from yourself?” I asked Cage now.

He gave a small smile, almost rueful. “I know a little something about all that.”

As foolish as it may sound, this cabin was our literal escape. Maybe a little too literal for my tastes, but now that the imminent threat of danger had passed, it was just us. And I didn’t want to argue or worry anymore.

I just wanted. “So we’re going to Skulls Creek.”

“I don’t know if I’m welcome there anymore. But for you, I’m willing to try.”

“Suppose they don’t welcome you?” I didn’t know much about MCs, but what little I did convinced me that the Vipers wouldn’t just wave and let Cage walk off into the night.

“We’ll be okay, Calla. They’re good people.”

I ran my hands over the tattoo on his biceps, the viper curled around the knife, the grim reaper skull with the not so grim smile, like he held the secrets of the world. I sighed. “I don’t want to leave this place.”

“No one does.”

“Then maybe the MC should move here.”

“Wouldn’t be special anymore. Besides, who’s got that many secrets?”

“You’d be surprised,” I murmured, and he smiled a little.

“You’re going to let me in on all of them, you know. You’ve already started. No going back now, no matter how hard you try.”

And did I really want to go back? My future was scary as anything, but that future promised me a life.

“So what does the MC do for you?”

“We watch out for each other. Help through hard times. Keep the town safe. Drink, fight, tattoo, screw. And ride.” He smiled at “ride.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“If you’re the wrong person, yes.” He shrugged. “No different than any family.”

“Any gang or mafia family.”

“We’re a club, Calla,” he said seriously, before pulling me closer. I escaped his grasp, though, and sank to my knees in front of him.

He ran a hand through my hair as I knelt between his legs. I’d never wanted to do that for anyone else in my twenty-three years.

Ran a hand along his thigh, his muscles tensing under my palms.

I wanted to make him lose it. Completely, one hundred percent lose it. He’d nearly done so at Tenn’s, but now that we were alone, would he let the facade drop more? Or was this him?

No, it couldn’t be. I had walls high enough for armed guards, so I could recognize similar boundaries.

I unzipped his jeans and tugged them down. He shifted to help me, and ran my finger over the head of his cock, avoiding the piercing for the moment.

“Yeah.” He smiled as I looked up at him. I tongued the piercing and he hissed with pleasure, and then I took him into my mouth.

His entire body tensed and he groaned my name as he bucked his hips up into me. I took him in again and again, sucking harder as he got more frantic. Until finally he tugged at me, saying, “Fuck, Calla . . . need to be inside of you when I come.”

Reluctantly, I rose and stripped as he watched. And then he picked me up and flipped me to the couch bed and covered me.

I was simply greedy for him—there was no other way to put it. I needed him to be mine, all mine—and the feeling seemed to be mutual, judging by the way he held me down and nipped along my tender flesh. Marking me.

“Harder,” I told him. “I want to see marks there.”

He stared down at me, his eyes blazing with lust. “You’re trying to kill me, Calla.”

“Why would I do that? You couldn’t fuck me then.”

He groaned and slid halfway down my body. He licked my cleft as I watched, unable to do more than grasp the sheets and pant. Between my legs was a pulse of pleasure. And then he licked his way back up my body, driving into me, hard and fast, like he couldn’t wait any longer. I knew I couldn’t.

I buried my nose in his hair, the crook of his neck, and hung on while he took me. He was so completely, intensely male, and right at this moment he was one hundred percent mine.

How he could so quickly demolish all the heavy walls I’d built around me—around my heart—I didn’t know. The tears that ran down my face did nothing to diminish the ferocity of my orgasm. And even as my core convulsed, I wanted more.

It was a beautiful, brutal race to orgasm for both of us. My climax was a quivering, heated roll of delight as it uncoiled, rushing through me.

Affection was the most painful thing of all—the most dangerous too—because it dug into Cage’s heart and lied to him, told him everything would be all right.

She was afraid of it too, maybe as much as she was of him. She didn’t trust it, or him, or her feelings.

But goddamn, they made each other feel. He was all revved up and so was she. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shone, and even with the death-defying race, this experience had proven something. They were both alive.

Did anything else really matter now?

The long ride chilled Cage out for a while, mainly because it was uneventful. No Heathens to be found. Their MC was several hours away from Skulls Creek, in the opposite direction of Havoc. There were other MCs and gangs along the way that were friendlies with Vipers and just as many that weren’t. But the friendlies would let them know the second they spotted a stray Heathen, because if there was one thing Heathens didn’t do, it was stealth. They were proud to let you know they were coming for you.

They valued brute force, and their numbers had grown.

Once he passed the familiar sign for Skulls Creek, his unease grew. Tals had trailed him for the ride, and dawn broke as they pulled through the main strip of town. Store owners were just starting their day. Some waved, others ignored—business as usual in the town.