Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC 3)

His body shudders against mine as his painful grip on my hair and hip both soften at the same time. Languidly, he continues kissing me even as he pulls out.

I vaguely register the spray of the shower still beating down on his back and misting me. Slowly, I turn to face him, our lips never breaking apart, and wind my arms around his neck.

When my lips feel swollen and raw, he finally breaks the kiss, and I shiver a little when a soft spray of very cool water connects with my leg while he shifts to turn the shower off completely and steps out.

While he’s grabbing a couple of towels from the rack, I take the opportunity to admire his scarred back full of mysterious pain from his past, and try to digest what just happened between us, still feeling the undeniable chemistry surging through me. It’s never felt like that—connected, intense, overwhelming…consuming.

That’s the word I use most to describe the enigma of a man in front of me—consuming.

The burn scars on his legs are the most prominent reminders of what he must have gone through. All the scars couldn’t have happened at one time, which suggests a repeated pattern of abuse. Which is what leads me to believe those burns were intentional.

Someone was sick and twisted.

And at one point, Axle wasn’t strong enough to fight back.

My powers of deduction conclude it most likely happened when he was a vulnerable child. It’s the only explanation as to how someone was able to take on a man like Axle—he wasn’t a man yet.

I’d like to see that son of a bitch come after him today. And I’d like to watch as Axle slowly killed him. I’d stay in the room and make sure he stayed hydrated while he made the death last for days.

Axle turns and tosses me a towel, and I blink out of my thoughts as I frown at him.

“Get dressed. We’ll go investigate the trouble with your team,” he says flatly, as though what just happened between us didn’t happen at all.

I didn’t expect cuddling or anything, but…this is colder than I imagined, and it totally ices my after-sex buzz that was still crackling through me.

“Yes, sir,” I say under my breath, my eyes going down to my body as I start drying off.

There’s suddenly a shadow falling over me, and a finger goes under my chin, tilting my head back up. Cold, pale eyes stare into mine as though he’s trying to figure me out.

Again.

“You wanted it, so don’t act pissed now. I know you got yours,” he tells me with narrowed eyes.

Seriously?

“Sometimes, I want to slap you,” I tell him, jerking my head away from his touch as I shoulder my way past him, wrapping up in the towel. When my back is to him, I call over my shoulder, “And I’m not pissed about the hot sex. I’m pissed about the asshole who threw me a towel and pretended he felt nothing. Because it’s irritating as hell.”

With that, I walk out of the bathroom and go to angrily pull on my clothes. However, there’s a text that comes through on my phone, and I blow out a heavy breath when I read it.

Fuck this day.

CHAPTER 18

AXLE

I have no idea what the hell to do with her.

She’s pissed about what, exactly? Hell if I know. Not the sex—that much I know. Now I know, anyway.

Sex has always been cold and detached, a means to breaking things up with my hand and getting something soft around my dick. Never much else.

Club whores have been the status quo for me, and usually they have to get really drunk to take me on. And that’s after they’ve been told to. Never too many volunteers, considering the scars. And the fact they find me too rough—which Maya didn’t seem to mind. There’s also the small hitch of me killing that one girl.

Somehow, it always gets omitted that she was a thief and that she was about to be ran ragged for weeks before someone else killed her. On Herrin’s orders.

I just sped up the process and cut out a lot of her suffering. Motherfucking saint.

Maya? Maya wanted this. Hell, she’s wanted it since she saw me. No ulterior motives have been discovered yet, and there was no faking the way she reacted to me.

There’s no way to fake the way she kisses me.

There’s no way to fake how wet she gets just from my touch.

Hence the reason I have no idea what to fucking do with her.

Annoyed, I walk out of the bathroom after I’m finally dry, and leave the towel behind. But when I step into my bedroom, I see Maya staring down at her phone, her towel still wrapped around her firmly, and her face a blank mystery.

“What?” I ask her.