Ignite (The Disciples 4)

“Let’s go.” I pull her toward the stairs as Fosters starts his singing. I’m not quite sure what he’s singing—his accent gets thick when he’s drunk. She nods, her thin body stuck to me like glue as she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Perfect, she’s sorry again. One second she’s ready to kill me; the next, she’s clinging to me.

The fucked-up thing is I like it, her, all of this. Now that I’ve decided to fuck her, I can relax and be myself.

Fosters leans against the pool table. Singing to Antoinette, he points the pool cue at her. Rip grabs his shoulder, trying to quiet him down.

I let it go. Fosters is shitfaced and has no idea that Antoinette is not that kind of girl. Or maybe she is… I mean, she is a stripper—not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Maybe that’s been my problem all along. I’ve been kidding myself with her vulnerability. Maybe she’s nothing but a fucking little schemer, only better at it than most. Whatever. We can fuck, use each other, and part ways.

Fosters pushes Rip away and yells over his shoulder, “Axel, my brother. Don’t be stingy.” Holding out his arms, he almost hits Rip with the pool cue. “Let me remind you about all the times I’ve shared with you.”

“Not tonight, man.”

She gasps. I ignore it.

“Fuck, Axel. Come on, man,” he yells as I continue tugging her upstairs. Her bags are already at my door.

Unlocking it, I walk straight for the dresser where I keep all three burner phones. I need to check on a couple of prospects who are doing some digging for me. Glancing up, I notice she’s standing frozen in the doorway, her big eyes huge.

“He’s drunk,” I assure her with a grin. “I’m not sharing you. Unless that’s your thing.” I toss the phone on my dresser and grab my pipe to light up.

“No.” She pales. “It’s not.” Her voice is almost a whisper.

“Get in here, Antoinette.” Taking a hit, I hold the smoke in.

She takes one step and looks around. Blade and I have the largest rooms in the clubhouse. He has a pool table in his. I have a mini studio in mine.

“I just… I think this is…” Her voice trails off as she takes another step. My patience gone, I walk past her and toss her bags into the room, then slam and lock my door.

“You hungry?” I pull off my cut, tossing it onto one of the chairs, and walk over to my kitchen area.

“Do you eat meat?” I scan her body. It’s so thin, nothing but toned muscle. Her arms are like twigs but perfectly defined.

“Yes.” Her voice cracks as she clears her throat.

“Something to drink?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll take a water, please.” She clears her throat again and looks everywhere but at me.

I take one from the refrigerator and hand it to her. Our fingers touch. Hers are soft and mine rough, and as I almost wrap my hand around her wrist to bring her close, she pulls back as if I’ve burned her. She feels it, same as I do, that push and pull, knowing that this is going to happen.

This one is dangerous to me. Her eyes hold nothing back. Desire, fear, desperation, swim in them. She’s terrified. And why wouldn’t she be?

She’s lost everything and is now in a bikers’ clubhouse with a man someone like her should not be around.

Ever.

“Fuck.” I sigh and let out a laugh. All I wanted was to take a shower, get high, and sleep, and here I am.

I walk to the dresser and grab a phone.

“Yell-ow,” Skidder, my number one prospect answers on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

I glance over at Antoinette who’s still standing with the water bottle. I grab my pipe. Hopefully I can get high enough to eat and get some sleep.

“I’m at Torque’s garage.” He sounds serious. That’s what I like about this kid—he wants it. Definitely feels the call to be a Disciple.

“I need you to go to In and Out and get me my usual. Make sure it’s animal style and a”—my eyes sweep her body again—“cheeseburger and fries.”

“You got it, VP.”

I’m the best at dealing with prospects. Blade is too busy with his family and running all the club’s shit to mold the prospects into true Disciples. It takes time and energy to get in their heads. There’s a big difference between the ones who are serious and the ones who are only in the club for free pussy and the bragging rights to say they’re a Disciple.

You give a kid who’s considered a loose cannon or the one with a chip on his shoulder responsibility, and within months, they’re so loyal they would lay down their lives for the club.

I light up and hold it as long as I can, trying to decide what to do with my ice princess. Exhaling, I offer her the pipe, knowing she’ll stick that nose of hers in the air and shoot me a look that says it’s beneath her. But that’s better than when she makes me want to hold her, reassure her that she’s not alone.