King's Wrath (Sydney Storm MC 5)

Three lives taken in one day.

That shit fucking lit me up in ways I’d never been lit up.

It cleared pathways in my brain that had been tangled my whole life.

I sensed a new purpose.

I finally knew my path forward.

“Why are you sitting over here all by yourself?”

I glanced up to find one of the club whores looking down at me with eyes that said she wanted my dick. I’d arrived back at the clubhouse an hour ago and searched out some peace and quiet in the corner of the bar. Lifting my almost-empty beer to my mouth, I tipped the rest of it down my throat before saying, “Because I want to be by myself.” It didn’t seem to matter how often I told her I wasn’t interested, she kept circling.

The seductive smile she always used spread across her face as she straddled me on the couch. Making sure to press her pussy against my dick, she ran her hands up my shoulders to my neck before looping them at the back of it. “Come on, King, let me show you how much you’re missing every time you say no to me. You think your woman can give it to you good? She’s got nothing on me.”

I clenched my jaw as I pulled her arms from my neck. “Get the fuck off me,” I said slowly, harshly. “I’m not fucking interested in you, and if you ever say shit like that about my woman again, you’ll fucking wish you didn’t.”

She took her sweet time moving off me, grumbling about what an asshole I was. It took everything in me not to shove her off, but I managed to keep my anger in check. By the time she’d done what I’d asked, Ivy had entered the clubhouse bar and stood in the doorway staring at me with the jealousy we seemed to be bogged down in these days.

Fuck.

I raked my fingers through my hair as I stood and walked her way. Her eyes remained glued to me as she angrily folded her arms in the way she did when I’d upset her. It told me we were in for another fucking fight. That seemed to be the story of our lives for the last six months, ever since that night I’d forbidden her from taking the night shift job she wanted. Ivy had wrapped her disappointment and anger at me up and kept it inside. She pulled it out every time I did something wrong and every time she thought I did something wrong. Like tonight.

“You finished work early,” I said, moving close to slide my hand around her waist. Instead of the nursing job she’d wanted, she had taken a job in a nursing home with shifts that ended no later than 9:00 p.m.

She jerked out of my hold and smacked my hand away. “I would

have stayed at work if I’d known what I was going to walk in on.”

My patience for this old argument had worn thin, and my temper flared fast. “I don’t fuck club whores, Ivy. You fucking know this.”

“I don’t fucking know this, King. All I know is what you tell me, but what I’m seeing is a different story,” she spat back, eyes flashing with hostility.

“What you’re seeing is nothing. She sat on me, she tried to fuck me, I said no. You can’t keep throwing fucking accusations at me and expect me to keep defending myself when I’m not doing anything wrong. At some fucking point, you have to decide to trust me, and I’d like it if you got to that point soon because all this bitching and moaning is doing my fucking head in.”

Her eyes widened, and she smacked my chest with both hands as if she was trying to push me away. I wasn’t fucking moving, though. No fucking way. “I hate you sometimes. Why can’t you understand what I’m going through? There are sluts everywhere here, and almost every time I come by, they are fucking on you. Can you not see how that makes me feel and why I’m struggling with this?”

“Jesus, Ivy, you’re being fucking dramatic now. They might be here, but they’re not fucking on me.”

“They are!” she screamed, drawing attention to us. Her body was wound tight with all the emotions engulfing her, and I knew from experience that she would likely only get louder and more antagonistic the longer we argued.

I grabbed her arm and dragged her outside away from watchful eyes. Jethro had made it crystal clear he didn’t want old ladies causing trouble in the club. I didn’t need this on his radar.

“Let me go!” She fought me every step of the way, but I gripped her hard and forced her away from the building towards the shed around the side. The outside lights of the clubhouse threw a little light on the area, but I steered her to a darker spot for privacy.

When we were alone, I loosened my grip and said, “Can you calm down for one fucking minute and listen to me?”

“I do listen to you. It’s you who doesn’t listen to me.” She said this with total conviction, the anger in her eyes shifting to something else. Sadness maybe.

I took a step back, hit hard by what I saw there. The last thing I ever wanted was Ivy sad. It was clear though that she wasn’t happy and hadn’t been so for at least the last six months. Fuck, maybe more. I would have sworn against what she’d just said, but she honestly believed I didn’t listen to her.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I contemplated how to react. Holding her gaze, I finally blew out a long frustrated breath and asked, “Do you really believe I would screw around on you?”

She blinked, seemingly unsure, and wrapped her arms around her body. My question managed to cut through the argument and give us the space to stop and think, to try and get our heads together and see things clearer. Fuck knew our tempers were our greatest flaws and did neither of us any favours.

“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice quieter, the hostile edge gone. In its place was the vulnerability that shot straight to my heart every time. This was the Ivy I loved.

I reached out and pulled her close, my hand cupping the back of her head. “Fuck, Ivy, what are we doing?”