Feel My Pain (Curse Bound 1)

More lies, and Roach could see that from behind his walls. Zane wanted nothing to do with him, and he’d made that abundantly clear. Now, he was proving he still thought Roach was a sucker.

Well, he wasn’t. He knew the cold, hard asphalt of reality when it hit him face first.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, accidentally-on purpose hitting Hulk with them.

Roach grabbed Zane’s jaw and looked him dead in the eyes. “Motherfucker tried to rob me.”

Zane uttered a soft gasp, and Roach heard it with such clarity, as if there was no other noise to be heard. No party in the bar, no men gathered on the sofas in the lounge room.

“Why have you two locked yourself in there is what I wanna know,” Ajax said, pushing a girl out of his lap as he rose from the chair, his cool eyes capturing Roach’s as if they already knew his secret.

Maybe they did.

Zane gritted his teeth, his gaze darting to the men, like a dog cornered by wolves and ready to throw them any bait that might give him time to run off. “I was just collecting payment for that blowjob you gave me!”

Roach couldn’t believe this cunt’s audacity. He knew exactly what might happen to Roach if he was outed to his biker brothers. Why couldn’t this guy just take the little beating he deserved for being caught red handed stealing from an outlaw biker at his own club. No, he had to make it personal and take Roach down with him.

Roach glanced at Hulk, gripping Zane by the neck. “You hear this motherfucker? I wanted to spare you all that detail, but the fag was also coming on to me.”

Zane stared at him, teeth closed as if he were ready to bite. “Let go. It’s a misunderstanding, yeah? I’ll go,” he said, attempting to walk out of Roach’s grip, but Hulk closed his fist on the long hair and pulled on the handful as if it were a chain, forcing Zane to his knees.

“You let that motherfucker close enough to pickpocket that sorry wallet of yours?” he mocked, but there was ice in his gaze, ice Roach could already sense deep in his bones.

He looked around at the other bikers, including his smirking brother, and spat on the floor. They knew. They knew and would be laughing behind his back. “Fuck all of you!” He glared at Zane. “Especially you. Have a good fucking life, motherfucker!”

He turned on his heel and the thudding of blood in his ears was so loud he didn’t hear anything anymore. He choked on air by the time he reached the backdoor exit and pulled out his flask. His life was fucking over. They’d never let him live down this moment.

Roach slammed the door behind himself and took a swig of bourbon.

Then another.

Chapter 3 - Zane

2 years later.

Zane couldn’t find rest. He’d tried to fall asleep so that he wouldn’t have to think, but it was almost as if he were approaching the edge of a cliff and the monsters hiding in the depths beyond waited for him to ignore the danger.

He could do this. So what that he’d gotten the beating of his life in this goddamn town? Big deal. He was still alive. Unlike some people.

“Why are you so adamant on playing in this dump?” he asked, leaning forward so his head stuck between the two front seats in Sid’s old Chevy.

He breathed in the stink of chemicals burning somewhere in the engine in an attempt to ignore the fact that each colorful tree they passed brought him closer to Grit, Ohio. The last time he’d been here, almost exactly two years ago, the day had been gray, not at all like the brown-and-golden autumn he was seeing beyond the car windows now.

“‘Cause they pay. Since when do you refuse money?” Callum asked, playing with his drumstick. Conveniently, he had a chicken drumstick in the other hand. Zane would make sure he washed his fingers this time before he touched Zane again. The leftover chili dust last night had made Zane’s cockhead throb with pain before he realized what the damn idiot had done.

He was not soaking his dick in a glass of milk ever again.

“I’ve been here. It’s a shitty place,” Zane remarked, leaning back against the stiff, old-timey seat.

He’d joined forces with the two brothers in hopes a band might earn more dough, but the pickings had been slim so far, and the bonus of traveling with a pocket-sized hottie who was always eager for his dick was starting to get old. Callum wasn’t an interesting person, and more in love with the idea of making music than he was with making music itself. And his brother, Sid, was a lazy bastard no matter how beautiful his bright red hair looked on stage.