Beauty & The Biker

We come to a full stop at the end of the drive. I don’t think I have ever clenched so many muscles at once. I am sure my body will make me suffer for it later. I peel myself away from Tristian, giving us both room to breathe.

“Did you enjoy the ride?” He questions, stilling my quaking knees with his large, tattooed hands.

“Felt like we were flying,” I tell him breathlessly. How does this man make me feel like pure dirt one minute and then the next he makes me feel like we are the only two people on earth?

“You want wings princess; I’ll give you wings. Get behind me,” he instructs me and I do. He grabs my ankles and places my feet on the back pegs.

My head is laid against his shoulder. He leans forward gripping the handlebars. “Trust me Isa, I will keep you safe.” Something in the depths of his eyes tells me he means his words. “Hold on while I turn us around.”

I do as I’m told as he gets us facing the right direction.

“Hold on to my shoulders and stand up on the pegs, don’t lean, don’t even breathe. Just hold on to me until I say now. Close your eyes, cause you are about to really fly,” he tells me.

I let go of my fear, closing my eyes and controlling my breathing, while hoping like hell I don’t have a freak-out or full-blown panic attack and cause him to wreck.

He picks up his speed and once again we are traveling faster than should be safe considering our positions. I can feel his heavy body pressing against my own as the power of the motorcycle rumbles beneath us. But right now I feel as one with him and the motorcycle.

“Now hold your arms out Isa and fly princess,” he tells me.

The wind trails through my fingertips as my body vibrates from the ride. It feels amazing.

I let go and enjoy the ride and the freedom he has granted me in this moment. Nothing matters—sickness, debts, love, life...none of it. We have wings and we are flying.

When we get back to the mansion, Tristian takes me by the hand and leads me to a gazebo. Deja vu hits me. I get lost in a memory that seems so foreign. I’m here at the mansion but I don’t feel like myself. I can hear myself giggling as I run circles around the gazebo, sprinkling blue rose petals and singing ring around the rosy.

I am snapped from my haze by Tristian asking me questions.

He is asking lots of questions about my childhood. It is making me a bit uncomfortable, because I don’t remember a lot about my adolescence, it all seems to be fuzzy. He is pressing hard, questioning why I don’t remember my grandmother. It’s making my head spin.

“Isa, Iris was living when you were a girl, she lived with your family. Why can’t you remember?”

“I don’t know. Why is it so important to you Tristian? I just can’t remember.” I shake my head as he peers into my soul, trying to make the pieces fit. “Why don’t you talk about living here in this big ol’ house. It had to be so lonely as an only child.”

“You don’t understand Isa but one day you will.” He stands abruptly knocking his chair over. Why is so angry with me?

“What did I do Tristian. Are you mad at me because I can’t remember my grandmother?”

“Forget it!” he barks, grabbing my arm, and jerking me out of my chair.

Inside he tells me I am to scrub every inch of the floors and then he just leaves me here all alone. I’m so confused. I keep trying to remember my grandma. I just can’t. I get that he knew her and that means maybe he knew me too, but how can he hold it against me. I was only a child then.

Chapter 8

TRISTIAN

I’ve wanted Isabella since long before I was old enough to know what it meant to want someone—to love them. She is so innocent and has no idea how sexy and appealing I find her. So fucking pure, too good for a man like me. But I will have her. She was supposed to be mine, she promised me and she lied.

I know everything about her. I know her habits. I know the things she likes. I know her smell. My heart memorized all these things a long time ago. I will strip her down and ruin her for any other man. She has always belonged to me. She doesn’t remember but she will. When I want her to. When I allow her to do so.

It’s hard to be so unfeeling towards her but I’ve had many years without her, watching from the shadows as she went on with her life as if I never existed. Every day she is with me she erases some of the shadows she left behind that darken my heart, leaving me torn between loving her and hating her. She CAN’T remember and I CAN’T forget.

I had to get away, I lost control with her yesterday when I took her out on my bike. She was beautiful, like a fucking angel as she let go and soared with me. We were able to just be one with the wind. I could have had her on my bike. I could have bent her over the frame and took her every which way, she was more than willing.

When she started asking about my parents and my childhood though, I snapped. How could she ask me, when she should already know.

She was the one who held my hand when life let me down. She was the light in the dark. She was the girl who baked me heart-shaped cookies.

She is the girl I became the man I am today for. I tattooed my body to make her see ME, to make her remember ME. I killed my father to protect her from him and to bring her justice for what HE did to her—what WE did to her. Her not remembering all that we shared kills me. I had to get away from her. I try so hard to make her see me, to remember me, but she is so blind.