Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC 3)

Mia looked beautiful even with her frame sagging from the weight of her grief. Even wearing the weak mask she had to protect her daughter from the extent of her sorrow. She was the most beautiful fuckin’ woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Ever. And he knew it. She was. That thought stabbed him in the heart as he locked eyes with her over Lexie’s shoulder. She had been beautiful. In every way. Inside and out. It was an innocent beauty. In a way her life had never given her pain, hardship or a rough road. Bull knew life had given Mia pain, hardship and a rough fuckin’ road. All the ingredients to chip away at beauty and ruin it. Instead it added to it. Made her beyond beautiful. A fuckin’ supernova.

So when Lexie moved away from her mother he had no choice but to go to her. To lay his lips on her head. Feel her warmth. Smell her sweet scent. Give her any strength it was possible to give her. Because he would give her and Lexie every ounce of whatever he had left in him to give them sunshine, give them a smooth road. He already knew they were the only fuckin’ light in the pitch black that was his life. Made him think something could grow out of the charred ashes of his soul. He knew in that moment he could never live in the darkness again.

One Week Later

I sat in my car, gazing at the wrought iron archway in front of me, unable to move. My seatbelt was still on. I had barely been able to turn the ignition off, but I did. I couldn’t do more than that though, more than stare up at the building that I had grown to love in my short time in Amber. One of the many things I had grown to love. But now I couldn’t get how I could go in there. How I could still love it.

It had been a week since the day I got the terrible news, since my and Lexie’s world, and family got a whole lot smaller. Since the morning that Lexie’s and my family also got bigger, with a biker giving us support that we wouldn’t have been able to survive without. Packing, flying to DC, planning a funeral, dealing with fake and inconsiderate friends. It was harder seeing the real ones, the genuine friends who had been a part of not only Ava and Steve’s life, but mine and Lexie’s. People we hadn’t seen in months, people who had come to support us. Somehow, that was harder.

Dealing with the police was a nightmare. Having to go through interviews while they didn’t tell us a freaking thing about why this happened to Steve and Ava, only that it was a burglary gone wrong.

Through all of it, Zane had been there, by our sides. Mostly silent, but he spoke when he needed to, when it mattered. He was always close to me, touching me as often as he could, claiming me. It would be hard to call it affectionate, but it was somehow tender, even though he stayed stoic and blank-faced most of the time. His tender looks were saved for me and Lexie. He didn’t shy away from giving gestures to show he was claiming her too. Brushing her hair out of her face, squeezing her hand, bringing her into his shoulder in the moments when she couldn’t smile through her grief. He had made it clear to the world, and to us, he was inserting himself in our lives, in our family. Lexie hadn’t questioned this; she had attached herself to Zane in a way that made me think she was claiming him too. She didn’t even blink when he stayed in the same room as me in the suite we had at the hotel. The suite he insisted he pay for when I realized I couldn’t stay in Steve and Ava’s home, the first home Lexie and I’d had after we escaped Hell.

It was then, the first night in the hotel after the exhaustion of travelling and organizing the funeral, that I let Zane in on why I couldn’t face it.

He had just made love to me. Nothing like the desperate, furious fucking we used to have prior to the party. Prior to him leaving me. This was a different kind of desperation. A desperation for him to imprint himself onto every part of me. Worship every part of me. Own my body. And my soul.

So after he was finished I was lying in his arms, tucked tight into his chest. We were silent, like we usually were after we made love. I was only just getting used to being able to relax, to bask in the intimacy of the moment and fall asleep feeling safe, which was why we were normally silent. Zane, because he was well…Zane and me because I was too busy in my own head, enjoying the moment to bother with words. A first for me. So I was especially surprised when Zane spoke.

“Weren’t your parents,” he said quietly.

I jerked slightly, not only at the fact he was speaking but also at the fact the words seemed like we were already halfway through a conversation.

“Pardon?” I asked, more out of shock than confusion.

“Steve and Ava,” he clarified, shifting me slightly so I could meet his eyes. “They weren’t your parents. You speak about them like they were, like they were grandparents to Lexie,” he said.

I tried to ignore the stab of pain that seemed to come with every thought, every memory of them. I failed. “They were,” I spoke quietly. “Parents to me, my best friends, grandparents to Lexie. Hell, Steve was the only father Lexie ever knew. They were my parents in everything but blood,” I told him.

His eyes searched mine. “Your real folks?” he asked.

I was surprised at this curiosity; he was genuinely asking. I couldn’t help but laugh without humor. “Who knows, probably wherever they can get the most drugs for the lowest price—rotting in the same trailer park I grew up in, most likely,” I said bitterly.