Always (Cape Hill Book 3) Read online

  I close my eyes, and my heart beats quicker with her admission, wanting it to be the only thing on my mind, but it’s not. All I can see is him swooping in again and stealing her. He has that power. She never took it away. It’s in her face when she spoke to him. It’s in her voice when she has nightmares about him. She doesn’t talk about them, but she calls out for him, waking with tears in her eyes. He’s everywhere but nowhere at once. A fucking ghost.

  “You’re who I want,” she whispers against my lips. She kisses me forcefully, sticking her tongue between my lips, running it across the roof of my mouth.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to bury my cock in you again,” I warn.

  I lick the taste of her on my lips. Leia blushes, biting the inside of her cheek. She places one last kiss on my lips and leaves me with a steel hard-on and an ache inside that has nothing to do with the problem in my jeans.

  After pulling out my pack of smokes, I jerk one out and light it immediately. The tinny sound of my light closing has me nostalgic for an easier time.

  I’ve always had a jealousy streak with Leia. Every guy who hits on her, kisses her, or even looks at her with hunger makes me mad. But Silas, he’s on an entirely different level.

  He holds a part of her that she keeps away from me. She loves me, but she loves him more. She doesn’t think so, since she pretends he didn’t break something in her, but he did. He took that special light from her and sucked her dry of brightness.

  I stew in my thoughts until my cigarette burns out, and as I’m about to burn another one, Atticus sidles beside me.

  He gestures for a smoke, and I give him one. He takes the zippo out of my other hand, and I struggle to see how he can smoke with that mask on.

  How the fuck does he eat?

  His fingers wrap around the stick, rolling it back and forth until he brings the flame to it. When it burns, I watch as his eyes darken, like the flame feeds his soul.

  He smashes the butt of the cigarette with his fingers and stuffs it in the small opening to his mouth. When smoke comes out a moment later, I’m stuck in a shock. How the fuck?

  “Bad night?” he asks, taking another pull.

  I suck in a ragged breath, wishing Sy would have stayed away. It’s been over six months. Why the hell now? Why when Leia and I are finally happy?

  “Understatement of the fucking century,” I express, pulling out another cigarette.

  “Leia?” he questions.

  With that mask, I can’t see a damn thing. Not his expressions, his mannerisms, or even a face. I nod in reply, not giving him anything else.

  “She’s pretty great,” he fills in the silence. “She gets me. That’s hard to come by.”

  Blowing out a puff of air, I choke on a laugh. “Shit. I’m surprised anyone could,” I joke. His eyes shut almost painfully, and I rush to correct my mistake. “I don’t mean it badly. You’re just a mystery.”

  “And love comes at a cost,” he returns, “one that I’ll never pay again.”

  I eye him, then look at what he’s wearing today. Black joggers, black tee, and his cut over it. His normal attire, but at the same time, even with his face covered, he seems sadder than normal.

  Atticus always appears to be solemn, giving advice and poetic words to us while his eyes look bereft. He’s an enigma, and he’s quiet, but his silence is understandable, his words always concise and candid. It’s like he holds the world’s knowledge behind his mask.

  Maybe he does.

  “She’s never been able to get over this guy, and he was here a bit ago…” I trail off, remembering the way he held her chin with sentiment—loss and love.

  A growl emanates from my chest, and Atticus turns to me.

  I wish I could see the face of the man who seems to know everything.

  “Love holds no barriers. There’s no when, no why, no where, no how. There’s only you and her and the doubts that slowly diminish it.”

  I stare at him, my mouth parted in shock. “Dude, that was deep.”

  He scoffs, “Don’t let your doubts kill your love. Go get your fucking girl and stop bitching to me before someone else does.” At that, he pushes off the wall, and heads inside.

  Guess that’s my answer.

  That might’ve been the hottest sex I’ve had with Brax, and the evidence is caked on my thighs. It’s dirty. Some may even say trashy, but I couldn’t care less. When Brax marks me, taking me with his all, his piercing rubbing me inside beautifully, I feel whole.

  It’s taken a while to feel complete with him, to feel like he gives me everything. Now, I feel that way. Or at least, I did before Silas walked into my bar with his compassion and sentiments he never expressed before now.

  It’s strange.

  And the timing… it couldn’t be worse.

  I’ve finally let Brax in. I’ve finally given him a piece of me.

  What does this mean?

  As I patter off to the bar, my mind is a mess. Sy always has a way of confusing me, pushing inside my mind and feeding the mischievous demon inside. He always takes, and I always succumb and acquiesce. I finger the tabletop, struggling to forget him and the way he’s softened after the last six months.

  “Took you long enough,” Pilar snarked, placing her hip against the bar, successfully bringing me out of my troubled mind. She looks me up and down, stopping at my thighs. There’s an odd expression on her face that I don’t recognize. “Did you really fuck Silas in the parking lot?”

  Before I get the chance to answer, Brax does. “No, she was being fucked by me,” he practically growls at her.

  The laugh that leaves me is heady and awkward. He must’ve followed me inside. I figured he’d have smoked first. It’s his new thing.

  “What he said,” I pipe in, my voice higher than normal.

  Brax reaches over the top of the bar, pulling me in for a kiss. It’s excessive and raunchy, even for a bar like the Den. My cheeks flare with so much heat, knowing she’s probably giving me the stink eye.

  When he lets me go, I’m fuzzy, my mind all over the place. If that wasn’t a stamp to claim me, I’m not sure what is.

  “Damn, Baby. That’s one way to lay it on thick,” Pilar muses, fanning her face.

  “She’s mine,” he enunciates, “Not that fucker’s. Not ever again.”

  Her eyes widen, and she looks at me for direction. I smile shyly, feeling exposed in many ways.

  “Understood,” she replies.

  Then, she clears her throat, walks to the other end, and starts pouring a tumbler of Absinthe. I peer around Brax, searching for Sinthe. Pilar doesn’t pour until he’s nearby.

  As my eyes catch his inhuman greens, I smile. Sinthe is unlike any person I know. When I was younger, I swore I would marry him regardless of me calling him Uncle Sinthe. He always protected me, making me feel special and treating me with utmost care. Now, I just admire him from afar. Don’t get me wrong, I love Brax, but Sinthe is beautiful to look at.

  His licorice-black hair that’s longer on top, a bit curly, and nearly buzzed on the sides isn’t my favorite style, but he makes it work. His eyes are vibrant, like a demon’s in the dark, glowing.

  And he’s huge. Like a monster, he towers over me, his body muscled and stacked.

  “I better not have fucking heard you correct, Baby. Defiling my girl at my bar isn’t fucking cool,” Sinthe barks, his tone commanding and reproachful wrapped in a bow. He stands near us, his face skewed with anger. Brax smirks and turns back to him. “Boss.”

  “Sinthe—” I start to make an excuse.

  Brax interrupts. “Just marking my territory, Venom. It’s nothing any of these other barbarians wouldn’t do.”

  “I get that, but she’s my fucking goddaughter, so keep your mouth shut when talking about her that way, or I’ll make it stay closed. Locker room talk isn’t allowed when it’s her.”

  Covering my mouth, I try to stifle a giggle. It’s no use. Sinthe’s protectiveness is charming in every way. His eyes meet mine, c
onveying so much love and care.

  “Understood?” he asks Brax but still holds my gaze.

  “Yeah, got it.”

  I finally turn to my boyfriend. His eyes are dark. Predatory. He’s come to like claiming our relationship in public. After everything in the past, it doesn’t surprise me even a little. Sinthe grips Brax’s shoulder, and when Brax winces, I’m surprised. “Baby here needs to go for his first run, baby girl.”

  “First run?” I question, my stomach filling with a bubbling anxiety.

  Brax has only been a Viper since that Roa guy came. I haven’t heard the outcome of that. There’s been no talk or anything. Brax is so new, and with the club in shambles with news of Los Desolados priming for jumping on our territory, it’s been a bit of a mess here.

  “Yeah, he’s going to take a little trip for me. While he’s gone, you can stay here or with Pilar.” I stare at him, wondering why he assumes I’d stay anywhere but my apartment. Then he backtracks, “you know, forget I mentioned it. Just make sure you don’t miss work.”

  With a slight nod, he takes his tumbler of Absinthe and heads back to his office, leaving me bereft of emotion and Brax speechless.

  I straddle my new bike. The one Sinthe gave me a huge bonus for. It’s navy blue, nearly black, with an almost metallic coating. It’s bare, no stickers, stylization, or anything too fancy, but it’s mine. For the better half of the morning, I stalked Brady’s social media accounts since he’s my first run for Venom.

  Now, I’m waiting for my next move. It’s odd, being told to do something I actually want to do. Visit him, that is. Doing the smuggling runs and beatings aren’t what one would call fun… but seeing Brady for the first time in six months, however, is exactly what I need.

  He’s at college, the University of Cape Hill to be exact.

  Unlike Leia and I, Brady took the football full-ride scholarship to UCH and left me behind.

  I only know this because of social media. Not that I’m keeping tabs on the guy or anything.

  Fine.

  Yes, I check up on him every once in a while. No more than once a week. I’m not stalking him, just wondering what he’s doing while I’m here, becoming a biker for a notorious club. Looking him up is cathartic almost, seeing him carefree and happy. It’s a vast contrast to my life with Leia. My life with the Vipers.

  I hate admitting I’m still curious about him. I hate that I can’t let go. Can’t let him go.

  We haven’t spoken since graduation. Leia reminisces it one way. She even brought it up recently. I, on the other hand, remember it much differently. Much, much differently.

  Right now, the guys and girls are separated. We’re put in separate tunnels under the stadium, waiting for the ushers to have us in a single file onto the floor. It’s always a boy/girl formation. I’m standing near two kids I don’t recognize when I hear my name.

  “Brax?” a deep and very familiar voice calls out.

  Gooseflesh covers my skin. Maybe it’s the nerves of what he wants, or maybe excitement since it’s been a while, but I know it’s in direct reaction to the person behind the voice.

  “Brady,” I return skittishly, wishing my graduation gown had pockets. It would give my hands something to do rather than fidgeting with the material beneath my fingertips. It’s satiny, almost too smooth, and my fingers get caught on every imperfection. Thankfully, it’s enough of a distraction that I don’t have to turn around and see him. He messes me up. He unnerves me.

  “Can we talk?”

  Those three simple words carry a ton of anxiety-inducing meanings. They’re heavy with reason and stiff with knowledge I don’t have. They’re too big, too fucking terrifying.

  I don’t want to look at him, meet his gaze, and see the questions he’s bound to have. But I do. I glance up at him, my gaze raking his frame slowly, committing it to memory.

  After today, we won’t see each other anymore. Unless Leia decides on UCH instead of UPR. It’s unlikely, plus being around him will only cause more issues, questions, and denial. He doesn’t deserve that.

  Everything about college has been up in the air since she got back. It’s like we’re in this weird Groundhog Day. We spend time, but it’s more routine than comfort, like we can’t imagine life without one another, but live in this gray area of continuation. It’s bland and odd and not us. No matter what’s happening between us, I don’t want to rock the boat. She might run, and I’ve only just got her back.

  “Talk?” I question, trying not to sound small. No matter how hard I try, this man unravels me. My very existence comes into questioning when he’s in the room.

  “Yeah,” he says, toeing the ground.

  I finally look up. He’s just as freaked out as I am, but he knows what we’re supposed to talk about. I’m the one left guessing, stressing over each breath taken and wondering if we’re standing too close to be obvious or not. Just having that thought makes me angry. I’ve never been this way before, even when everyone believed I was gay. Now that it has merit, it’s even more unsettling. It’s like I’m waving a flag every time he’s near.

  He sets my body off, making it itchy and hot and needy all at once.

  “Well, spit it out, Rush,” I say.

  His normal confident facade is nowhere in sight, He’s all shy and soft. All boyish.

  “Kol,” he starts, his face one of pensiveness.

  “Rush,” I return, taunting him. Why is he being so squirmish? He’s usually controlled, driven by his wants, and never withdrawn. Brady’s the sure one in whatever the fuck this is.

  He eyes the hall nearest us. It’s where the other students generally go to smoke or fuck around. Is that what he wants? Which one?

  I follow him, even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s not a good idea. Whenever Brady and I are alone, things turn molten fast. The only way I’ve been able to avoid doing something irreparable is by avoiding him and keeping him at arm’s length.

  But now, we’re in public. I can’t make a scene. It’s different this time. We’re not in an abandoned stairwell or raging and ending up on his doorstep. We’re somewhere anyone could pass by. Like half the senior class, which consists of all males. Anyone could tell Leia…

  This is different.

  We’re different.

  He leads me away from my spot in line. As soon as we round the darkened area, I’m watching left and right and back again, making sure no one’s around to witness a mistake if I choose to make it.

  I seem to forget about anything when Brady’s in the same room, let alone the same, small breathing air as me. Being confined with him leads to bad decisions and regrets. It leads to me not thinking and just doing. It can’t be that way with us. Not with me dating Leia, and sure as hell not with me trying to hide even more now than before that Brady ignites something in me.

  “What is it?” I ask in a hushed whisper, almost scared to know why he’s forcing us both to hide in the dark.

  “Come with me, Brax.”

  My head jerks up at his words, my gaze connecting with his. “What?”

  It’s a dumb question. I know what he said. I just can’t believe he said it. What the hell does he think? That this is some fucking romance where I run off with him? A man?

  “Come to UCH with me. We can try…” He stumbles over the term, waving between us, flustered and nervous-like. “We can try… us.”

  Us. Such a simple word with such a catastrophic meaning when it’s about him and I. I don’t know what to say to that. Do I say yes and say fuck it to the girl I’ve been fighting for? Do I try to be happy with him… a man no less?

  I should say I’m not gay. I should repeat it over and over again until it computes in my brain, until it ingrained itself at the front of my mind instead of the back of it.

  Being gay was always my biggest fear after Darryl. When he touched me like that, my body reacted in a way I never understood. I researched how bodies can feel the exact opposite as your mind, yet I refused to ever accept anything other than Lei
a.

  She’s my cure.

  She’s my cure.

  She’s my cure.

  One thing in the last two months I’ve come to realize and accept is that while I might love Leia—her lips that capture mine irrevocably and fully, and her luscious body, all curves and beauty and sensuality—I love Brady’s touch too.

  I crave it, his mouth on mine, the contrast between his thick, solid body against mine, and the way he smells as sweet as he smells manly.

  But giving up what I know for the unknowable future that Brady offers isn’t something I can do.

  I love her.

  She’s always been it for me.

  Right?

  I must’ve taken a long time in my head, scouring over his simple question, since he’s now in my breathing space, his face mere millimeters away.

  “Give us a chance, Brax,” he urges, his chest bumping mine as he pushes even closer.

  “B-Brady.” I curse, my tone low, uncontrolled with how hot the air between us is getting. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I ball them at my sides, not allowing myself to touch, to taste, to have.

  “Brax,” he murmurs back softly, his voice the smallest I’ve heard. He bumps into me again, his groin smacking against mine. He’s hard, and with that knowledge, I start thickening in my own slacks. “Tell me to stop.”

  The words tumble out moments before he’s caged me against the wall, taking my mouth with his. It’s hot and wet and frantic. Like he understands I’ll say no. Like he knows this is our last goodbye. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the last time we’ll ever touch mouths, ever be this close with this much freedom.

  His tongue swipes the bottom of my lip, seeking entrance, and even with that dawning on me, that this shouldn’t go on, I give him access.

  Brady tastes of Pixy Stix, Red Bull, and bad intentions. It’s all fucking Brady. I push back, shoving my tongue deeper, needing the roughness of him. All the hard, all the manliness, all the fucking desperation.

  His mouth leaves mine, and then his tongue is tracing my jaw. The bite of pain that greets me when he nips at my chin has my cock aching in so many ways. I want to say something, to tell him how amazing his mouth feels, how perfect he is, and how much I want him. But I can’t. I won’t.