Welcome to the Dark Side (The Fallen Men 2)

For the first time ever, I was having fun.

He brushed my hair over one shoulder and leaned into my neck, his breath hot on my exposed skin as he whispered, “Want to go inside, find a little quiet?”

I wasn’t really surprised by his question. I wasn’t totally naive.

Part of me didn’t want to go with him. I liked Reece but in the easy way of friends and partners-in-crime. I didn’t think I wanted his tongue in my mouth, let alone his hand down my pants. But I told myself I was being snobby and a little unreasonable. I’d never had a tongue in my mouth or a hand down my pants, so how could I know that I wouldn’t like his?

The answer was, I couldn’t.

I’d loved one person in my life thus far and I’d only ever seen him twice. What was I going to do? Cling to the idea of my childhood prison pen pal for the rest of my life? Pine after someone who didn’t want me and, I was fairly sure, wouldn’t be good for me even if he did?

No. Absolutely not.

So, reaching my drunken conclusion, I answered him by grabbing his hand and tugging him inside.

I saw Lila watching with a concerned frown and even Hudson looked a little wary, but I smiled sloppily at them in reassurance as Reece took the lead, ushering me inside and up the stairs to an empty bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed, he was on me.

The tongue that I’d been curious about was in my mouth and it tasted like yeast and hops. It was warm and slick, ickier than I’d expected as it thrust between my lips and ran over my teeth.

His hands though, I liked. One pressed between my shoulders so that I was tight against him and the other trailed down my back so that he cupped my butt. It felt good to have his large, hot hands on me. Even better to feel his response to my body in the groan that worked its way into my mouth from his. I could definitely get used to a man’s hands on me.

Slut, the conservative Louise cried.

The new me, an entirely new person without a name or family, without a care in the entire world but for what pleased her in that very moment, grinned at the name calling and kissed Reece back.

He had me pressed to the bed, his long body on mine and his hands under my shirt, palming and squeezing both of my breasts with unabashed fervor when the nausea hit me smack in the middle of my gut.

“Oh, no,” I mumbled against Reece’s lips.

He hesitated, pulling away slightly to ask, “You okay, sweetheart?”

I was scrambling away from him before he had even finished speaking but I only made it to the edge of the bed before I was throwing up.

“Shit,” I heard him curse over the sounds of my ceaseless vomiting.

I was mortified but so sick that my entire body ached with it. Belatedly, I realized that drinking was a terrible idea. Even though I’d just been diagnosed and hadn’t started any treatment yet, my body was worn down and I’d never been intoxicated before.

On the heels of my embarrassment, self-loathing came snapping.

“Idiot,” I managed to breathe between heaves.

“Okay, wait right here. I’m going to get Lila,” Reece said.

I groaned and he must have taken it as confirmation because he ducked out the door.

A minute or two later, I was puked out.

I lay there panting for what felt like ages but must have been only a few minutes because Reece didn’t return. My stomach had settled but I was still drunk as a skunk and probably just as stinky so I decided to head back outside to get some fresh air. My legs were surprisingly steady as they carried me down the crowded stairwell, past my peers who smiled and called to me with caution, maybe worried that I was a tattle-tale or that I was just a good girl playing bad. I ignored them, pushing through the front door and gulping in deep lungfuls of clean air.

There was nothing like the air on the coast of British Columbia. I’d been on a lot of family vacations across the globe and there was nothing as sweet as the air I breathed in after getting off the plane when I was back home.

I closed my eyes, leaning against the wall beside the door so I could figure myself out. There was still a heavy tread to my thoughts like they waded through thigh high swamp water but the urge to be sick had retreated.

I was almost asleep against the side of the house when the low rumble of approaching motorcycles roused me.

In Entrance, that thunderous growl was not uncommon. The Fallen MC had been a staple of the town almost since the MC was founded in 1960. I’d grown up seeing the leather-clad bikers swarm the streets in rigid formation on the backs of great metal beasts, their hair long, their beards wild and their skin covered in permanent art. I’d always watched them with a strange kind of envy because I’d never seen anything as free as those men seemed to be, riding off as a brotherhood into the sunset.