Tattered on My Sleeve (Lost Kings MC 4)

“You my girl?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

He kisses lower, tickling my ribs with his hot breath. My body freezes when he reaches my scarred side and growls.

Propping his chin on my hip, he glances up at me with a serious expression.

“Want you to get my star tattooed on you, right here.” He traces the undamaged skin next to my hip bone. I suck in a deep breath.

“I’d like that,” I whisper.

“Good.”

He places gentle kisses on the spot in question. “I need to be there when you get it done. No one touches my girl without my supervision.” His mouth turns up in a quick smirk, but I know he means it.

“Yes,” I agree. I don’t ever want another man’s hands on me again.

“How do you want me tonight, angel?”

I can’t answer, because he lowers the cup of my bra, exposing my nipples for his rough fingers.

He slides up my body, taking one nipple into his hungry mouth.

I stutter and gasp.

Eventually he has mercy. “Tell me,” he demands.

“Raw. Hard. Rough. Make me yours.” He leans down and runs his teeth over the hard peak of my nipple and my back arches in response. Nudging my legs apart, he pushes a finger inside me and I moan in pleasure.

“Those tests came back negative, baby. You want it raw?”

“Fuck. Yes.” I can barely form any words or thoughts with the way his thumb keeps rubbing against my clit. “Please. Please make me come, Wyatt.”

He gazes down at me, and I see the war within him. “Don’t hold back.” I raise my hips and he nods. Without another word, he slides into me. Filling me to the hilt and stopping.

“You with me?”

“Oh, yes.”

He withdraws so slow, I’m almost sobbing with relief when he pushes into me once more. My arms and legs wrap around him and I lose myself in the primal, furious motion of him thrusting in and out.

“Are you with me, Trinity?” he asks again. This time I feel the rawness in his voice. For the first time in my life, an honest emotional connection overwhelms me, stealing my breath with its intensity.

His lips press against my forehead. “You still want it rough?”

“No. Just like this. Please.”

“Whatever my angel wants.”

My heart nearly bursts from his words. This man has turned my world upside down. We’ve hurt and betrayed each other so many times but this feels like forgiveness. He captures my mouth. Our tongues tangle as he keeps giving me slow steady strokes. His hips thrust at a slightly different angle and pure bliss flows through me. As I shudder and come undone, he grips my hips, fingers digging in, holding me down for a few more short, intense thrusts.

“Trinity,” he whispers. He stills, filling me, falling on top of me. His thick arms wrap around my body, pulling me into him.

Every inch of me still tingles with pleasure.

“Wyatt?”

He stirs, taking some of his weight off me. “Sorry, babe,” he mumbles.

“No, I like this.” I grasp him to keep him on top of me.

He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead. “I’m going to crush you.”

“No, you’re not,” I whisper, holding tight. The weight of him safe and comforting. I love him so much. Why can’t I just say the actual words?

Wrath told me I’m not supposed to cook for the house anymore. But honestly, everyone will starve if I don’t. I like cooking most of the time and getting things ready for the guys in the morning. With that in mind, I slip out of bed to start the coffee.

Hoot’s already in the kitchen, but he’s spilled coffee grounds everywhere.

“I got it, kid.”

Today he smiles gratefully.

Teller’s the first one in the dining room. He’s sitting, staring at the mural over the bar.

“Morning,” I chirp as I set down a mug and fill it with coffee.

He glances up at me and a hint of a smile curves his mouth. “Sorry I missed the bonfire,” he says.

“It’s okay.”

“You know Wrath told us yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

He fists his hands on the table. “I care about you so much, Trinity.”

The raw sound of his voice makes it clear his feelings are more than friendly or fuck buddy. I’m utterly floored. I had no idea.

“Teller—”

“No, it’s my own fault. I never said anything. I didn’t think we could be a possibility, so I just took whatever you would give me. Figured you thought I was too young for you or something. But if I thought there had been a chance, you and me…I would have done it differently.”

Shit. The misery in his voice cuts right through me. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Wrath had the stones to actually fight for you. He earned you. You deserve someone willing to fight for you. I’m happy for you both, even if I’m sad for myself. He really loves you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He really does. I love him too. Long time now.” Oh my God. That came out so easy. Why can’t I say it to Wrath’s face?

“Fuck,” Teller mutters. “All these years, I never…He must hate me.”

I’d been so wrapped up in my own bullshit. It never occurred to me how my actions might affect their friendship. I pat his shoulder, but it feels awkward and wrong for some reason. “Teller, we’ll still be friends.”

“I know.”

“You’ll find the right girl.”

He snorts a laugh. “I’ll probably just fuck it up again.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up. I’m sorry I didn’t realize—”

“It’s not on you, Trin.”

I’m so stunned. And ashamed.

All my life I thought I wasn’t worthy of love, making the last twenty-four hours utterly confusing. Hell, the last few months have been confusing. A sick feeling slithers through me. For years, I’ve used Teller. Many little gestures come to mind. The way he’d fall asleep holding me. I always thought he was teasing when he asked why I took off in the middle of the night. Whenever I thought he was getting too close, I used one of the other guys to push him away.

“Teller, I know we’ve never talked about this, but I had a really shitty childhood. I didn’t think I was worth loving for a long time. It never occurred to me you might feel that way. I’m so sorry.”

He wraps one hand over mine. “Honey, you’re one of the sweetest people I know. I can’t think of anyone who deserves love more than you do. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. It’s on me. You’re where you’re supposed to be. I’ll be fine.”

Hot tears threaten to fall. My God. I never knew Teller to be so poetic.

We stare at each other a little longer before I get up.

“Eggs and bacon?”

“That would be awesome. Thank you, Trinity.”

Waking up alone unnerves me. I declared my feelings in front of the entire club yesterday. From now on, I expect to wake up next to my girl. My breath catches and I hold it, listening for sounds that she’s just in the bathroom. Nothing.

Sighing, I throw back the covers and get up to find her. Guilt nags me because I’m thinking maybe it was too much, too soon and Trinity ran from me. Or worse jumped into bed with someone else. I hate myself for thinking that. It’s been eight years of us playing sick games with each other though. We still need time to adjust. The guys all sat there and heard me announce my claim on her. Only someone with a death wish would take her to bed after that. I’m sick that I have more faith in my brothers than my girl.

Walking down the hall to the dining room, another thought occurs to me. She’s been getting things ready every morning for years. I’m sure me telling her she didn’t have to do that anymore didn’t sink in. She likes helping out and feeling useful. Nothing I say will change that.

Feeling better abo

ut the possibilities, I turn to enter the dining room. Voices reach me and I step back. Teller and Trinity. Fuck.

“I care about you so much, Trinity.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Teller—”

The pain in her voice is so clear, I’m ready to slam Teller’s face into the table. I just barely manage to stop myself.

“He really loves you, you know.”

“I know.”

Thank God.

“Does he make you happy?”

I hold in a breath waiting for her answer.

“He really does. I love him too. Long time now.”

Blood thunders through my ears and something loosens in my chest. I needed to hear her say this. I know she loves me. And I don’t care that she can’t say it to my face. Hearing her say it to Teller though? I’m stunned and stupid-happy.

Unfortunately with the relief crashing through me, I missed part of their conversation.

“It’s not on you, Trin.”

Good boy, Teller.

My poor girl’s got so much guilt over something that isn’t even her fault. So help me God, if Teller doesn’t say the right thing, I’m going to break his face.

“You’re where you’re supposed to be.”

I can live with that. They’re saying goodbye in their own way. It’s a good thing. Lord knows we don’t need tension in the club. I’m proud of my girl. Proud of my brother too. Takes a big man to admit that shit.

I promise myself I won’t hassle little welterweight for at least a month.

I’m a little bummed this was the last night of my Photoshop class. I can sign up for another one in a few weeks, but I’m not sure if I’ll bother. I have a good grasp of things and with all my shiny new equipment waiting for me courtesy of Wyatt, I don’t need to keep taking the risk of venturing into Ironworks.

This is exactly what’s on my mind as I’m grabbed and thrown face-first against my Jeep in the parking lot. Everyone else in my eight-person class left out the front exit. Stupid me parked in the back.

Keeping silent, I wait to see what my attacker wants before I decide how to handle this. I have the pistol Wrath insisted I carry tucked into a special holster at the small of my back. I also have a knife in the cargo pocket along my right thigh. Neither are accessible at the moment due to the heavy, smelly body pressing me into my car. A wave of panic consumes me. Long-buried memories threaten to leave me quivering and at my tormentor’s mercy if I don’t get it together.

“You one of LOKI’s girls,” he finally grates against my ear.

I can’t decide if I’m relieved or terrified that this is club business and not a random mugging.

He presses his lips to my ear, and slides his slimy tongue over my skin. My body trembles with revulsion from the contact. The wrongness of any man but Wyatt touching me that way infuriates me, giving me the strength to stay still so I can plan a course of action. “I remember you from the night of the fight. You’re with that big blond pendejo. Got a lotta nerve being on our turf.”

Um, actually, as far as I know, if I’m not sporting club logos or here on club business, I can go wherever the fuck I want. I keep my mouth shut, hoping the silence will unnerve him enough to make a mistake.

“Let’s see what presidente wants to do with you. He’s sick of that cabrón president of yours turning his nose up at our business.”

Ice floods my veins. Fucking Vipers. There’s no way in fucking hell I am getting dragged back to their clubhouse. I did not escape one biker hell only to be kidnapped into another one. I hold no illusions that they’ll leave me unmolested while they contact Rock to make their demands.

I’m done with that shit.

The minute my cheek kissed the cold metal of my car, my pulse took off down the highway. I struggle for a lungful of night air and get myself under control. My gaze darts to the bits of surrounding area in my peripheral vision. We’re all alone. It’s up to me to save myself.

His hand clasps my breast and I squeeze my eyes tight. “Oh you’re nice. They’ll be real eager to get you back.”

Thinking of everything Wyatt has taught me over the last few months, hell, just thinking of him and what we finally have together gives me courage. I didn’t wait my whole damn life to be happy, only to have it ruined by this asshole.

I almost cry—I’ve still never told Wrath how much I love him. If I don’t survive this, all he has is a stupid, cowardly note from me, when what I feel for him is so much more than my scared, scribbled words.

My quiet seems to unnerve him, and he gives me a shake. “You listening, puta?

“I hear you, hijo de puta,” I spit back.

The insult is enough for him to let me go, probably so he can hit me. I drop into a crouch while going for my knife. Sure enough, his fist hits where my head had been seconds ago. My fingers close around the knife about the same time he lets loose with a string of curses. Flicking it open, I thrust my arm back as hard as possible, until the sharp blade sinks into flesh.

My attacker falls back on the ground screaming. Whirling around I see I managed to lodge the knife in his thigh. Not bad considering I’d been throwing blind.

No time to pat myself on the back. He’s screaming and rolling around, which is bound to draw unwanted attention soon. His hand flails and brushes against my ankle. Yup, he’s still too close for comfort. My foot lashes out, kicking his hand away with a satisfying crack. Good, I hope I broke some fingers.

I’d dropped my keys when he grabbed me, and now I frantically scoop them up. Unlocking the door, I throw myself in, backpack on and all. A quick glance in my side mirror shows him still wailing and thrashing on the pavement.

Throwing the Jeep into reverse, I get the hell out of Ironworks. Once I’m safely over the bridge, I pull over. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely sit forward to slide my backpack off or reach into my pocket to grab my cell phone.

Wyatt’s on a run. It’s only out to Syracuse, but still, he can’t help me.

I need to hear his voice though.

“Hey, angel,” he answers.

“Wyatt.”

“Trin, what’s wrong?”

“I…I got attacked leaving art class. A Viper I think. I got away.”

“Jesusfuckingchrist, are you okay?” he shouts back.

“I think so.”

“Baby, did he hurt you?”

“Not really. Scared mostly. I sunk my knife into his thigh and got away.” In the background I hear Z asking if I’m okay.

While they take a second to talk, I buckle my seatbelt and get back on the road.

“Trin, where are you now?” Wyatt asks.

“Getting on 787.”

“Good. Okay. You’re probably a half hour from home. Go straight to the clubhouse.” He pauses. “You call Rock first?”

“No. I uh, needed to talk to you.”

He’s silent for a moment. “I’ll call Rock and let him know what’s going on. You concentrate on driving. We’re maybe half an hour from our drop. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, then we’re turning around and coming straight back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You did good, Angel Face. I’m proud of you.”

“Your training paid off.” There’s so much more to say. It wasn’t the defense exercises he taught me that saved me. It was him.

He chuckles and the sound comforts me.

My mouth’s dry and I swallow past the lump in my throat to come up with a lighter tone so he doesn’t worry. “I lost my damn knife though.”

His chuckle gives way to harder laughter. “Babe, I’ll buy you another one. Now get home.”

“Motherfuckingdirtygoatfucker!” Bellows out of my mouth the minute we hang up. My fist flies into the dashboard and I’m so enraged, I don’t feel a thing.

“Relax, brother. You heard her, she’s okay. She did good,” Z reassures me.

This is an easy run, which is why there’s only two of us. Thank fuck, because t

hat means there are more brothers at home to take care of whatever shitstorm just blew up.

“Calm down and call prez.”

The cloud of rage in my head breaks while I dial. Twice in the time I’ve known her Trin needed me, and both times I couldn’t be there. Both times Rock’s gonna be the one to take care of her.

At least this time she called me first.

“S’up brother?” Rock greets me in a lazy voice. I hate that I’m about to ruin his night.

“Trin got attacked leaving her art class tonight. Possibly Viper.”

“What?” He explodes on the other end. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“She’s on her way to the clubhouse. She says she’s fine, just shaken up. She knifed the guy and got away.”

“Fuck. He alive?”

“I think so.”

“No cops then.”

“She ain’t in the system anyway, bro.”

Rock’s quiet. “I gotta get the story from her before I decide what to do. But trying to kidnap an ol’ lady. Man, you know what this means.”

War.

Damn fucking right. I’m ready to murder every single Viper with my bare fucking hands.

“We’re almost at the drop, then we’re turning around and coming right back.”

“Good plan. Go ahead and let Stump know what’s going on.”

“You think we’ll pull them in?”

“Never know.”

From passing through Demon territory, I’ve seen Stump with some regularity over the last few years. Only recently did I discover he’d been involved in wiping out the fuckers who harmed Trinity when she was a teenager.

To say I’ve got a soft spot for the grumpy, old fuck is an understatement.

Stump and his son, the VP of the Demons, Chaser, greet us with handshakes. Stump’s delighted with what we’ve brought. As his guys load it in their van, he invites us to their local support club.

“Can’t. We got a situation back home. Bordering MC tried to jack my ol’ lady tonight. Gotta get back.”

Whether he’s surprised by the information or the fact that I have an ol’ lady, I’m not sure.

“Who’s your ol’ lady?”

“Trinity.”

A dark look of concern transforms his face. “She all right?”