Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC 6)

I’d argued about paying her back, though it would likely cost more than my house repairs, but she’d said, “You bought a round of drinks one time. We’re even.”

And she was serious.

It was too much to take.

So I’d just smiled and nodded, Gage’s hand on the small of my back, guiding me onto the curb where an SUV was waiting. Obviously I couldn’t ride his bike, and that had me disappointed. We’d had a lifetime packaged into a week without each other. I ached to have my arms around him, to feel the vibration between my legs and the freedom in my soul.

I ached for something else.

Gage.

As if Gage sensed the way my body quivered, his hands bit into my hip. “Soon,” he growled in my ear.

And then I paused, not because of the guttural growl. Well, a tiny bit because of it.

Gage was instantly alert, dropping the suitcase with a violence that likely would’ve made Amy faint and cupping my face. “What, Will?” he demanded, searching me as if I might’ve gotten shot without him noticing.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly.

His eyes immediately went to my bandaged hand, and my foot, also bandaged underneath my flip-flop. Not injured enough to keep from walking, but I had to limp. “You’re not fine,” he clipped.

“Okay, whatever. But I was thinking about this.” I nodded to the curb.

“Can’t have you on the back of the bike,” he said, misunderstanding my meaning. “No fuckin’ way I’m riskin’ that.”

“No,” I protested. “That was the very spot where you dropped me all those weeks ago, without a second glance.”

He froze, then snatched me into his arms. “Oh, there was second glance,’ he growled. “There were a thousand. All I thought of was you. More than the fuckin’ junk. I only left ’cause I thought I was doing you a favor.” There was a heavy pause and his eyes darkened. “Fuck, baby, I thought that’s what I was doing before. But both times I was being a coward. Runnin’ away from you is not something I’ll ever do again.”

My form stiffened. “You better not. Because I’ll chase you, limp or no limp.”

The side of his mouth turned up. “Lotta things chase me, Lauren. You’re never gonna be one of them. Because you’re always gonna be at my side, battling the things that chase the both of us.”

And then we got in the car.

And drove to his house.

It was cute, well-maintained and not at all what I expected from Gage.

He carried me inside.

“Gage,” I squealed. “It’s a bride you’re meant to carry over the threshold.”

He stopped in the middle of the living room. “I’ll just do it twice, then.”

I froze and he gently put me on my feet, taking my hands. “I meant what I said, Will,” he murmured. “I’m not runnin’. Not from you, or myself.”

Then he laid a hot and heavy and desperate kiss on me before I could start crying everywhere.

The crying came later.

In the dead of night when I jerked awake, not because I couldn’t breathe but because I could. Because I was terrified that none of it was real. That the fire wasn’t. Because if the fire wasn’t, then Gage wasn’t either.

Then he didn’t come back.

Arms tightened around me. “Lauren?” he demanded, voice clutched in worry.

My body shook. “I almost lost everything,” I hiccupped.

“The fire didn’t take it all, baby. We’ll rebuild. I’ll rebuild. I promise.”

“No,” I said against his mouth. “The fire brought you back.”

He froze. “You can’t say that shit,” he growled. “Not when I can’t fuck you.”

I moved, careful of my hand, running the other down the bare skin of his abs. He hissed and caught my wrist before I could grasp his hard length.

“Lauren,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Then don’t leave me again,” I demanded.

His hand flexed at my wrist. “Never,” he promised.

I laid my lips to his once more, kissing him with violence and need. He met me, only just restraining the totality of his own brutal need.

“I need you inside me,” I whispered, “so I know this isn’t a dream.”

There was a heavy pause, and then I was flat on my back, Gage’s hands ripping at my panties, kiss ripping at my soul.

“This isn’t a dream,” he growled, exploring my wetness, preparing me. “This is a nightmare.” He thrust into me with a desperation that mimicked mine.

“Then I hope I never wake up,” I moaned as he moved slowly.

“Me too, Will.”

And then there were no more words.

Only our bodies moving in a painful and beautiful rhythm, chasing away the demons.

Or welcoming them in.

“Will?” Gage said, gently taking the paintbrush from my uninjured hand and turning me to face him.

The vision rocked my world slightly, and not in a good way.

I’d been fighting dizzy spells for the past couple of days, putting it down to all the trauma of the past few weeks.