Undaunted (The Kings of Retribution MC)

Her actions slow and her breathing calms. It’s not too dark in the room. The moon’s reflection off the waters has cast a blue-gray gleam over most of the bedroom. I start to see the subtle changes in her expression as she comes around. Hearing her gasp, I look down and see tears pooling in her eyes.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” she cries.

She has nothing to be sorry for. I understand all too well about having nightmares. I go to say something but don’t get the chance to respond.

“Your face,” she sobs, bringing her soft hand to my cheek, then running the tip of her finger over my eyebrow. “You’re bleeding.”

Still holding her, I kiss her forehead and I calmly ask, “Are you okay?”

I look over towards the door when I hear crying. I see Alba standing in the doorway. She brings her hand to her mouth. No doubt shocked by the commotion that was coming from the room. I hold onto Bella a few minutes longer to soothe her. I want to kill that motherfucker all over again, for what he put her through. I motion to her sister who has already taken a few more steps into the room. I catch a glimpse of Sofia peering around the door frame and tell her to come in as well.

“Would the two of you mind sitting with Bella, so I can go clean my face?” I ask them.

“Sure,” her sister says in a hushed tone. Sofia doesn’t speak, only nodding her head, yes. Both wearing concerned looks on their faces.

I slip my arms from around her waist and stand, making my way to the master bathroom, and close the door behind me. I’m exhausted. Between the plane ride home, helping the club and my father deal with some loose ends here in town, and now this. She had one while she was still in the hospital, but it wasn’t anywhere near the intensity.

I stand in front of the mirror. The scratches on my face aren’t that bad. I turn the water on, giving my face a good splash and collect myself before going back out there. I’m trying my best to understand and let her go at her own pace, but fuck if it isn’t frustrating as hell at the same time. Every little advance I’ve made towards her to help has gone ignored. If it involves talking about what happened or even helping her change her bandages she completely shuts me out.

I’m trying to help the woman I love.

I’m torn.

Do I watch her spiral down that rabbit hole or should I force her to let me in?

Walking back into the room I watch as Bella sips on some tea. It seems to calm her nerves, so I’ve made sure we have plenty of the herbal stuff in the house. Personally, I don’t like the shit. She likes it and that’s what matters.

Alba and Sofia hug her, telling her goodnight, before turning to me. “Logan, if you need anything, please come get me. I’ll do what I can to help,” her sister says.

I know she means well. I give her a nod and a look that I hope conveys I appreciate her, but this is my job.

They leave the room, closing the door behind them. I walk over turning the bedside lamp on and flip the overhead switch, turning those light off.

Bella reaches over, setting her tea down as I climb back into bed. She looks a little unsure and starts twisting the sheets in her hands. I reach over and pull her into my side. I feel her body tense for just a moment before melting into me, laying her head on my chest.

“I’m so sorry I scratched you,” she whispers softly.

I can feel the tears silently falling onto my skin and her warm breaths as they caress my flesh. I will my body not to react in the way it naturally does when I’m around her. The smell of her hair, the softness of her skin against my rough calloused hands...

Fuck.

Taking a cleansing breath, I gain some self-control over other parts of my body. “I’m okay, babe. Nothing to worry yourself with. Do you want to talk about it? The nightmare?”

“No. I’m tired. Could you just hold me awhile?” she asks in a soft, shaky voice.

“Yeah, beautiful. I can do that,” I declare, pulling her in tighter.

I lay there for the next couple hours, holding on to the best thing to ever walk into my life. Eventually I’m lulled to sleep, listening to her soft, easy breaths.

“Yo, Quinn,” I holler from across the shop.

I’m stripping down an old Harley that a customer salvaged from the boneyard. He came in last week wanting to convert it to a bobber style. It’ll be a nice-looking ride when I’m done with it. The guy is a Navy SEAL vet. He’s not looking for anything over-the-top, just a classic lookin’ smooth ride.

“What ya need, man?” Quinn fires back at me as he continues to work on a big twin that was brought in yesterday.

“I need you to close up shop this evening. I got some shit I need to do.”

“Not a problem, brother. Listen. The guys are throwing a party tonight. You comin’?”