Storm (Ashes & Embers 1)

“You don’t have to try. You already do.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I’m sitting on the couch at the cabin, Halo and Niko at my feet and my laptop propped on my legs, chipping away at Aria’s incoming emails. Her latest book made bestseller in under a week and now a movie deal is in the works for a book she published three years ago. I double-check her calendar before booking more meetings as Gram’s ninetieth birthday party is next month and we are planning a big party for her.

While I have my laptop open, I check Storm’s social media sites and post an update on their next show and links to new band merchandise. Over the past few months, I’ve been working closely with a graphic designer to better brand the band with a new logo and adding new items to their swag. The women’s black fitted tee with rhinestone snowflake has been a huge seller. Storm thought it would be fun to take advantage of our blizzard story, and he was right—the female fans all wanted an Ashes and Embers snowflake shirt.

A few weeks after we went public, a female rock journalist interviewed us, wanting to showcase us as a ‘real couple,’ and specifically focusing on the fact that men can and do, love natural, cute women. Since then, most of the hatred for me on social media flipped to admiration, my own inbox flooding with emails from young girls asking for relationship advice. Kind of ironic. Yes, I still have haters, but I ignore all that now.

I shut down my laptop and head out to the garage, barefoot, to find Storm sitting on the ground with a motorcycle in pieces around him. I grab a bottled water from the garage refrigerator and hand it to him.

“Thanks, baby.” He tilts his head up for a kiss. I smile at him, wipe some grease off his cheek, and give him a long slow kiss.

“How’s it going?” The bike he’s working on is his favorite. It’s painted a glossy jet black with wolves airbrushed over the fenders and tank. It’s beautiful.

He nods his head, sipping his water before replying. “Pretty good. Next weekend we’re going for a ride.”

“I can’t wait.” It’ll be my first ride, and I’m looking forward to it.

“Did you call Vandal? I called him earlier, but he’s not answering his phone. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

I kneel down next to him. “Yes...we talked for a few minutes. He’s all right, just doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

Storm throws his wrench. “He fucking hates me. All of us.”

I rub his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Storm, you guys did what you had to do. He’s too messed up to be in the band right now, you guys know that. He’s pissed, but he understands. He knows once things settle down and he gets better, he can come back.”

“I’m not sure he’s ever gonna be better, Evie,” he mutters.

“He will. It’s just going to take some time.” I try to sound hopeful, even though I know deep down Vandal may not ever come out of the dark place he’s in.

“All the time in the world can’t fix what he’s going through, baby. He’s done.”

The situation with Vandal is devastating. A month ago, he fell asleep at the wheel while driving late at night, killing his five-year-old daughter, a female friend and a driver in another car. Vandal spiraled into a horrific depression, distancing himself even further from the band—his only family. Sometimes, he’ll talk to me, but not often, and he says very little. Once a week, I stop by his house, bringing him groceries and cleaning up the mess he leaves.

I have a soft spot for Vandal. When I first him, he scared the heck out of me with his dark looks, bad moods, and utter silence. He hardly ever spoke. The first time I stopped at his house after the accident, he was a mess, throwing things, screaming, and swearing. I questioned my sanity for showing up at his home alone. Then he just collapsed in front of me, and I sat on the floor with him and just held him. I never said a word, I just held him. From that moment on, we’ve had a quiet friendship. He doesn’t yell anymore. He eats the food I bring him and thanks me for cleaning his house. It’s the least I can do. Storm loves his cousin and family has to take care of each other.

Storm stands up covered in grease from head to toe, but I lean in to hug him anyway.

“I was thinking we’d go out to dinner tonight,” he says, putting his arms around me.

“I’d love that. Our fur children are getting along great. They were sleeping next to each other when I came out here.”

He kisses me on the nose and grabs my ass. “I knew they would. I think we need to take a shower together before dinner. You’ve been hiding from me too long today. I missed you.”

“I know... Your mom’s emails have been insane.”

We walk into the house together and he leads me straight to the bathroom, pulling our clothes off as soon as we get through the door.

“Get in there and turn the water on, and I want you to lather yourself up with that vanilla soap.”

I do as he says, standing in the glass shower while he leans against the sink, naked, watching me as I spread the thick lather all over my body. He slowly crosses the room, his cock hard and jutting out. He presses me up against the tile wall, running his hands up and down my soapy body, and then lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and slowly sliding inside me.

“You’re still dirty,” I tease.

“I know.” His kisses are playful, starting at my lips, and then moving down to my neck, biting my flesh. “You smell like cookies.”

He places me back on my feet. “I want you to wash me,” he says, his voice laced with soft command.

I take the bath sponge, squirt vanilla body wash on it, and slowly run it all over his body, the suds sliding over his hard muscles. The multiple showerheads spray us from every angle, rinsing the creamy soap off us. We shampoo each other’s hair, and then I drop to my knees and take him into my mouth. He leans back against the tile wall, his hand on my head, gently pulling me to him as I suck him.

He locks his eyes onto mine. They are glazed and half closed as he loses himself in me. Nothing turns me on more than watching him when he’s enjoying what I’m doing to him.

“Mmm… I think I need more.” He pulls me up by my hair and spins me around, pressing my front against the glass door. His lips trail all the way down my spine, while his hands slide down my wet sides, and stop at my hips. He squeezes my ass and gives me a small slap before slowly inching his way into me.

“You stayed away from me for too long today,” he hisses in my ear, thrusting harder.

“I know…”

“Tomorrow I want you all to myself.”

I’m not going to argue with that.

“I’m getting prime rib and shrimp,” he announces and closes his menu.

“Honey, you get that every time we come here.”

He bites into a hunk of bread. “I know. It’s always perfect. I don’t want to try something new.”

I like to get something new every time we go out to eat. “I’m getting the chicken cordon bleu.”

“I’ll end up eating half of that, too.”

I giggle at him. I can never finish my dinner so he usually eats whatever I don’t finish.

“Oh, my God, you’re Storm Valentine!” Suddenly, two girls are standing by our table. I place my glass back on the table and raise my eyebrows at them. This sort of thing usually doesn’t happen at this restaurant, as it’s very expensive and most of the patrons would respect that someone dining here would not want to be bothered.

Storm just smiles. “Yes, that would be me.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, ignoring them.

“Could we get your autograph? And get our picture taken?”

He shakes his hair out of his eyes. “Ladies, I appreciate you coming over, but I’m having dinner with my girl.”

One of the girls makes a nasty face at him. “But you’re just sitting here. What’s the big deal?”

He flashes her a not so nice look. “The big deal is that we’re enjoying a private night out, and we don’t want to be interrupted. I’m not

on stage, I’m having dinner.”

“Being an asshole to your fans isn’t cool,” she says.

He stands up. “I love my fans. I don’t like being disrespected. I’d appreciate it if you would leave, please.”

Finally, the manager of the restaurant appears. “Mr. Valentine, I am so sorry. You know we do not tolerate this kind of behavior here.” He turns to the girls. “Ladies, I will escort you from the building now.”

I watch as he drags them away, both of them cussing us out. I’ve learned not to engage with people like that and to just ignore them.

“Rude bitches,” Storm mutters, sipping his wine. “Do you believe that shit?”

“It’s okay. They’re gone now.”

He still looks pissed off. “You don’t know how much I hate that, Evie. What happens when we have kids? I don’t want them growing up like I did, being pulled on, picked on, used, and annoyed everywhere they go.”