Never Ever: Book One Perdition MC (4 page)

“In a minute. Put that thing down.”

Exasperated, exhausted, emotionally drained, she thunked her
mortar and pestle down on the countertop, huffing when he took one hand off of
her belly to turn the stove off. “Roar,” he spun her around, one hand on her
ass now and the other big beefy mit curled gently around her throat. It didn’t
occur to her for one second that he was going to hurt her, even after how he’d
shoved Susan against the wall like that, he used his body to intimidate a
woman, but she could tell just from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t even
considering it. She knew what that looked like, that need to hurt another person,
knew what that felt like, and knew how to hurt them back. Even someone as big
as Roar, she was confident she could take him.

 He stared down into her eyes, his face a stone mask.
Hard, expressionless, his eyes seeking back and forth between hers. She
prepared herself for whatever blow he was going to deliver, shivering at the
sweep of his thumb across the underside of her jaw, “Why?” He asked, and she
shuddered at the rumble of his deep voice. God she hated how even still, even
furious and yelling at her, his voice was like black magic to her senses. “Why
what?” She snapped back, hoping if she was pissy enough he’d let her go, “Why
do this? Keep my son when you don’t know shit about me, other than I can make
you blow like a geyser and that I piss you off.”

The answer was one she hadn’t really even acknowledged to
herself, but it rolled off her tongue like water, and there was no taking it
back. “I don’t have anyone else. I’m tired of being alone, and having no one to
love. I was just a body to pass the time for you, I get that, and it’s okay.
But I want this, and I don’t expect your h-help.” She stuttered over the last
word because her god damn hormones were raging now, which pissed her off and
made her sound all weak and helpless. “Jesus, you’re one tough bitch.” He
murmured, not a curse, not an insult. To a biker, that was high praise. And in
her current state, she could not deal with praise. Mad? She could take mad.
Praise? Nope. “I was raised in an MC, and daddy expected no less. Can I make my
god damn tea now?”

He nodded, reaching around her to turn the stove back on and
let her turn around, but didn’t take his hand off her stomach. Didn’t move away
to let her compose herself. Bastard lowered his chin to her shoulder, turned
his lips to her cheek and just stood there behind her while she made her damn
tea. “What MC?” He asked after she poured the hot water into her mug, making
her jolt, then shiver with the bolt of sorrow that arrowed down through her
body. “Why?”

“What MC?”

“What’s with the questions? Worried I’m from a rival gang?
Ow!” She slapped his thigh and glared over her shoulder at him for the sharp
nip he gave her on the ear. “Just answer me,” He sighed, like he was tired. Ha!
What the fuck did he know about tired? “They’re all dead now. Does it really
matter?”

“Yes.”

“Fuckin relentless,” She muttered, scooping her loose tea
into a bag to plop into the water, “Taggart Tornadoes MC.”

“Taggart Tornadoes. As in, Stoneface Taggart’s MC.”

“Yep.”

“Taggart MC, that got blown to fucking hell on some poor
bastard’s wedding day by a Nazi Skinhead gang?”

“Thanks so much for reminding me.”

She shoved out of his hold, grabbed her tea and hustled her
ass outside where she could breathe, trying not to remember that day. Not
wanting to remember that day. God she didn’t want to remember. But the images
came and she sank down to the back porch stairs, hating how her bottom lip
wobbled. Hating that for some perverse reason it made her feel a little better
when Roar came outside after her and quietly sat down beside her. Finally
silent, but he’d opened the damn door on her memories, and now they wouldn’t
stop pouring out of that dark hole she’d shoved them in and dripped from her
eyelashes. “I moved out here to get away from those memories. To be alone.
Until that night I walked into Perdition’s compound, I hadn’t been back to the
life. Didn’t realize that I made myself forget how much I missed it. How much I
missed being loved by some rough, hot, raunchy ass biker.”

“Everly-“ She waved her hand at the harshness of his voice,
throwing Squatch’s ball for him, just to see him go tearing off with joy to
find it. “I know it wasn’t anything special, Roar. Don’t worry that I’m going
to go all clingy on you. I get it.”

“Oh really?”

The tight, furious tone of his voice made her look at him
sideways. Wondering what she’d said now to piss him off. “Yeah. And why the
fuck would you think I’d carry this baby to term, only to hand him off to
social services, toss him away like he was garbage or something?” He groaned
like she’d just committed the worst crime against him yet, “Jesus, woman.”

“What? Seriously, why?”

“Because the day my mom died, her husband did that to me.
Took me to a cop shop, told them he’d found me wandering around the city by
myself and beat fucking feet.”

Stunned by his sharp, angry bark she shook her head and
marveled at him. “What a piece of shit. No wonder you’re fucked up. How old
were you?”

“Three.” He growled, shooting her a look that told her he was
daring her to ask more questions. “Puh-lease. You scare me about as much as
Squatch.”

Knowing his name, her puppy came and dropped the ball at
Roar’s feet, wiggling with impatience while the battle hardened biker just
stared at him like he didn’t know what to do. She rolled her eyes and commanded
her pup to bring it, laughing when Squatch pouted before bringing her the ball
and starting his wiggle all over again. She threw it for him and he tore off with
a joyful bark, pouncing through her flowers and the grass until he could find
the ball and maul it like it was an intruder. Shame that the real intruders, he
tried to lick their faces off. “I’ll be back to get you in two hours.” Roar
said definitively. “Get me? For what?”

“It’ll take me that long to get back to the compound, get my
shit, make us an appointment at the Boneyard to get your brand and come back to
get you.”

“Wh-what? What brand?”

“My brand.”

“Like hell, am I wearing your brand.”

She found herself flat on her back, her second mug of tea
spilled on the deck, and a big, sexy fucking biker straddling her hips. One
hand spread wide over her stomach, the other planted by her ear while he glared
down at her. “That’s my son in there, yeah?” He questioned tightly, and she
nodded, gulping down a sudden dose of wariness. That look in his eye was… she
didn’t know what. “Then you fucking better believe he will know my face. Know
his father. You want this boy, then you get the whole package. My brand on your
body, my ring on your finger, your ass riding bitch on my bike.” Crazy. He was
crazy. “You have lost your fucking mind, no way-“

“You decided you were going to keep my son, I’m deciding he’s
going to have married fucking parents. Eighteen years, minimum. You want to
leave me after that, fine. Until then, you’re mine. You’ve got two hours to
throw a fit, then I’ll be back. Test me and think about running, and I will
hunt you down.”

“Roar, come on, you can’t be serious.”

“Test. me.”

What the hell had she been thinking, stepping back into her
old life?

She was so screwed.

Two hours later she heard the roar of the pipes and saw the
dust trail that the tires of Roar’s bike kicked up as he tore up her driveway.
Her heart was pounding, her hands sweating, shaking a little as he parked his
Fat Boy beside her Jeep. Watched him use the heel of his boot to snap the
kickstand out in a practiced, smooth move. Watched him unclip his helmet and
rake his hand through his thick, gorgeous hair and settle the black bowl on the
handlebars. Watched his thigh muscles bunch while he dismounted and grabbed up
the Army duffel from where he’d strapped it behind him, slung it over his
shoulder and walked right past her to dump it just inside the door. “Come in
here,” He told her gruffly, and she fought not to tell him to fuck off. She was
about to make a deal with this devil, and he had to be receptive. Not pissed
off.

She got up and dusted her sweaty hands off on her butt,
crossing her arms over her chest while she passed him at the door. She risked a
peek up at his face, shivering at the stone cold mask he wore, the coldness
turning his eyes to ice blue instead of the warm tropical blue they turned when
he was in the throes of passion. She liked that expression better. “You gonna
wear that to the tat shop?” He asked, nodding at her work stained jeans, and
her company shirt that proclaimed her turf, Never Ever Land. “What’s wrong with
it?” He lifted his brow, licked his beautiful lips and pulled his hand down the
golden scruff on his jaw. “Depends on where you’re gonna put my brand.”

“About that,”

“Not giving you a choice. You’re keeping my boy, you’re
getting my brand, you’re my bitch. End of.”

Her jaw clenched, her fists too and she fought with all that
was in her to not sock him across his pretty face. She took a slow, deep breath
in and refused to lose her cool. “You said you grew up in an MC, this shouldn’t
be that fucking hard to understand. Man takes care of his business.” Counting.
Counting to twenty helped. Breathing in slow and steady, that helped. But that
arrogant tone of his fucking voice chapped her ass. “It’s not. The hard part is
believing that you, biggest man whore in your MC, gets his conquest of the
night pregnant and suddenly is commanding marriage and branding. The hard part
is trying to be understanding that I made a mistake by not telling you right
off. The hard part is not booting you in the balls so hard you never sire
another kid, ever again for using that tone of voice on me, like I’m still just
club slut pussy. I’m not club slut pussy, and I never will be. Keep testing me,
asshole, and I’ll let loose that bitch you keep calling me.”

He blinked, some of the ice melting off the edges of his
eyes, and a completely new look crossed his features while he studied her face.
He reached his rough hand out to lift her chin, tilting her eyes into a beam of
the fading sunlight and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, pulling it gently
down the center in what felt like a helluva possessive caress. “Your eyes heat
up when you get pissed. The gold swims up out of all that green. Copper too.
Sexy as fuck, baby.” Her cheeks fired with a mix of lust and anger, the
endearment and the way he murmured it so huskily, ugh. Not fair! She slapped
his hand away and glared at him hotly. Asshole just grabbed a handful of her
hair instead and pulled her close, rubbing his nose up the side of her face and
into her hair to breathe in deep. “Get the fuck off, Roar. I’m not falling for
your shit. You want to help me raise this baby, fine. I’ll wear your brand, but
you are not living here, and I am not marrying you.”

“Jesus. You’re serious.” He was fucking laughing at her. His
eyes dancing with amusement while she seethed. “Let. Go. Of my hair.” She bit
out, but it was like he didn’t even hear her, staring at her like he was.

He backed her farther into the house, scooping his arm under
her butt to lift her in a move so effortless that her fury evaporated like mist
as soon as her tits hit his chest and her hands curled around his strong, wide
shoulders to keep herself from melting into a puddle of goo. She jolted when he
set her down on her own kitchen counter and in a casual swipe of his big paw,
knocked her knees apart and stepped between them. He surrounded her with the
scent of him, wind, leather, amber, freedom, man. The heat of his body,
crowding her until she was pressed to him from groin to chest. Almost nose to
nose. He let go of her hair and cupped her hips, glancing down with this funny
look on his face at how her belly was pressed up against his.

He shook himself like a lion, shaking water off its mane and swallowed loudly
before looking back up at her with those eyes of his gone narrow. “I know what
I look like. I know how to make a woman come so hard her eyes cross. Did it to
you. Five times. I’m not a pussy hipster, I ride with a club that’s got a good
reputation for taking care of business. You’re getting big with my baby, that
you chose to keep, which tells me you like something about me. Probably the sex,
don’t blame you, cause it was fuckin phenomenal. You tellin me you don’t want
to keep that, be my old lady, doesn’t really jive.”

She just stared at him, unable to believe the shit that had
just come out of his mouth. Un, fucking believable. Bikers. Jesus, she knew
better. “You are one arrogant son of a bitch, Roar. You look like a fucking
lion, and you roar the fucking roof off like one too. Yeah, you do know how to
make a woman come so hard her eyes cross. Did it to me, and half this fucking
town. It was seven times, not five. No, you’re no pussy hipster, and your club,
has that reputation. Not you. Your reputation involves a lot of fucking.
Figures, that I hook up with
that guy
, at my first hog roast in eight
years. I’m not getting big, asshole, I am literally creating another human
being, inside my body. And what I like about you…can’t come up with one thing.
The sex was fuckin phenomenal, but there’s plenty of swinging dicks to provide
phenomenal sex. I sure as fuck don’t want to keep you, because I’m not stupid.
You can brand me, put a ring on my finger, make me your old lady in name only,
but I don’t believe for one second you’ll keep your vows and not fuck around
with the sluts at your club behind my back.”