Musketeers (Fallen MC 2)
King
When he heard Nicole stressing to Duke, their club’s VP, that there was another person being held in these shitty cells he hadn’t known what to expect. He hadn’t hung around to ask questions. He just wanted this fucked up day over with. He’d never suspected that the stupid pricks from Riot MC would take things this far, to actually abduct a rival club’s old lady and a pregnant one at that. And now it looked like they’d be left to clean up whatever other shit they’d got themselves into.
King made his way into the room holding the cells and skirting Noel’s blood that coated the floor, he made his way to the last cell. He registered noise not far behind him and knew that Bones and Digger had followed him. He would expect no less from them. They were his partners in every part of his life and their bond was unbreakable. Wherever they went, they went together. Everyone knew this. Any attempt to separate them from each other was met with overwhelming force. It certainly helped that they were all built like line-backers and had zero issues with fucking someone up or ending their lives. Having a brutal reputation had definitely assisted to quell any fucker trying to bring trouble to them or their club brothers.
Stopping at the cell door he looked to the small figure who’d been trying desperately to hide in the shadow of the corner. He felt his whole body jerk as his brain tried to keep up with what his eyes and apparently his heart had recognised.
He hadn’t known what to expect. He’d imagined some drugged out fucker with a debt they’d failed to settle, not a broken angel. In the filthy, dank cell was a small woman huddled in on herself. From what he could see of her body under the stained rags she was wearing, she looked entirely too thin, the sharp angles of her body looking too severe. He could make out several deep bruises along with slashes to nearly every part of her exposed skin. Grime clung to her, darkening the porcelain complexion that shone through on small parts of her.
What took his breath though was the long, tangled, matted mess of what he could see would be white blonde hair when it was clean and a face worthy of a goddess. Helen of Troy couldn’t have had anything on this bitch. Red-rimmed blue eyes hesitantly met his. Rage, unlike any he had ever known, bubbled up from deep inside that someone, anyone, could do this to an angel.
The rage was mingled with a good dose of possessiveness and obsession and the bone deep feeling that this woman was theirs. This was the woman destined to complete their lives. To give them the family they craved. He had no idea how he knew and he didn’t have the time or inclination to figure it out right at that moment.
He watched as tears filled her eyes and a tiny hand unwrapped from her knee and reached out to him. It felt like a fire had been lit under him as his desperation to reach his woman burned.
He was fucking up the release of the door lock in his haste, pissing himself off even more. A steadying hand clasped his shoulder and Bones’ unwavering strength settled him enough to finally work the lock. It clicked open.
Bianca
The cell door slammed open and for the first time she wasn’t startled by the sound, the deep fear that usually followed was pleasantly absent. The man at the front charged through the door and dropped to his knees beside her. She could see the desperation in his expression to reach out and touch her. The muscles in his arms twitched and he shook out his fisted hands. He leaned further towards her, a barely-leashed calm having temporarily eased his frantic movements.
His clean, woodsy scent filled her senses and Bianca wanted to surround herself with it. She felt it invade her body with each deep breath she sucked in. It was intoxicating and the most welcome scent after having spent weeks smelling nothing but mold, urine and sweat.
She didn’t have the energy left to help him when he picked her up and tucked her close to his chest. Warmth radiated from his skin through the tee, she squirmed trying to move so as much of her body was in contact with him as possible. There seemed to be a steady growl rumbling from his chest, she could feel the vibration against her. He was angry and she prayed that sound was never directed at her. It sounded like a lion just before it roared.
Despite his rage, he was being so careful of her injuries. His hold was steady and not too tight. He’d positioned his grip to avoid the worst of her wounds and that show of kindness had a fresh wave of tears streaking down her cheeks. She was so sure she’d never experience compassion like that again, that now she was nearly overwhelmed by it.