My hand is trembling on the gun so badly that I’m suddenly worried I might accidentally shoot him. Despite the cool night air of the desert, my palms are slick with sweat, as is the back of my neck. “You told me I shouldn’t call you Jamie,” I say quietly.
Rebel leans in, filling my head with the smell of him. “Oh, sugar. If you were going to say those words to me, I’d definitely want you to call me Jamie. At least then, when you eventually do run away like any sane person would, I can replay the sound of your voice telling me that. And it will be for me. Not the guy who’s wrestling to keep his people together. Not for the guy who didn’t protect his uncle. Not for the guy who’s been searching for his best friend’s missing sister for what feels like forever. It’ll be for the guy who came back from Afghanistan never thinking he’d find a woman strong enough or brave enough to take him on.”
I lower the gun, letting it hang down by my side. “I’ve already told you. I’m not going to run.”
“Then it looks like you’re the crazy one, not me.”
“Looks like it.” I can’t believe what I’m about to do, but I know it’s happening. I’m ramping up to it, a part of me panicked and scared yet unable to talk me out of voicing the words he wants to hear me say. “Jamie, I want you to take me back to the cabin—”
Rebel moves like a whirlwind. He catches me up, wrapping his arms around me, pinning me to him so hard that it feels like our bodies are fused together. He’s kissing me, then. Kissing me so intensely that pinpricks of light start exploding like fireworks behind my closed eyelids. His hands are in my hair, roaming all over my body, palming my breasts, moving over my thighs. The moment is so unexpected and fierce that I begin to wonder if I’m imagining it. My imagination has never been this good to me, though. He slides his tongue into my mouth, exploring me, tasting me, and I follow his lead.
The gun I’m holding drops to the ground, and then my hands are in his hair, arms winding around his neck, and he’s lifting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. His hands cup my ass, holding me up. When he pulls back, he’s breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his eyes bright and shining in the near darkness. “We can still have amazing sex without you finishing that sentence, Soph. Don’t say something you don’t mean. Don’t say something you can’t take back.”
A frisson of fear sparks in the pit of my stomach, but that’s all it is—a small nagging sensation. When I look into his eyes and see what’s in store there for me, how giving myself over to him will be so, so much more, that fear fizzles out and vanished entirely. “I trust you,” I tell him. I lean closer, crushing my breasts up against his chest in order to whisper in his ear. “And I want it.”
His reaction has me gasping out loud; he grabs hold of my hair in his right hand and makes a fist, pulling my head back. “Then do it. Say it,” he growls.
“Jamie, I—I want you to take me back to the cabin, and I want you to show me what it means for you to be my—my master.”
A slow, wonderfully sinister smile spreads across Rebel’s face. “Sophia?” he says.
“Mmm?”
“You may not want to talk about it this second, but you are going to marry me. You know that, don’t you?”
I feel weak and helpless in his arms, but not in a bad way. I also feel safe. Protected. At peace. I know, no matter how many other men I could potentially meet in my lifetime, no matter how special they might be able to make me feel, I will never meet another man like this. I will never feel as special as the way he makes me feel. I bury my face in his neck, hiding from the truth in his eyes and the truth in my heart. I can’t face it yet. It’s too damn frightening.
Rebel laughs silently, his shoulders moving up and down. He presses his lips against my temple and then stoops to collect the gun I dropped on the ground. I’m still clinging to him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, when he shoots out the remaining cans.
“Come on, sugar,” he whispers into my hair. “Let’s get you home. Time to show you what you’ve been missing.
THIRTEEN
REBEL
I take a corner, leaning my Monster into it, and Sophia’s thighs tense ever so slightly. My dick is suddenly harder than reinforced concrete. Fuck Maria Rosa. Fuck Agent Lowell. Fuck Hector Ramirez and his evil piece of shit right hand man. All I care about right now is what’s gonna happen when I get Sophia through the door and into my damn bed. I doubt very much we’ll make it to the bed in all honesty. At this rate, as soon as we pull up outside the compound I’m probably going to be bending her over my motorcycle and fucking the living daylights out of her just to warm her up. She has no idea what she’s getting herself into. No clue whatsoever.
Up ahead, the compound is lit up against the darkness like a beacon. We pass the huge tree where Carnie found Bron’s body as we head toward home, and I can feel Soph judder against me. No matter how much time passes, that tree is always going to have evil connotations for her. For me, too. I’m not normally one for wantonly destroying living things, but I make a mental note to come out here tomorrow morning to take a chainsaw to the damn thing. I’ll use a pickaxe to dig the stump out, and then I’ll fill in the hole so it looks the same as the rest of this desolate landscape. Shame, really.
There are plenty of people milling about when we pull through the compound gates. I park my motorcycle up alongside the long line of machines behind the barn. Cade’s out the front of the clubhouse smoking a cigarette. He sees us, gives me a curt nod of his head, but he doesn’t come over. He’ll have things to tell me—if anyone can make Maria Rosa part with information, it’s Cade—but he must see the small shake of the head I give him. He’ll wait for me to come find him later. After my business with Sophia is at an end.
The girl beside me has her shoulders drawn back, chin tilted proudly. She’s set her jaw, and looks extremely defiant as I gesture for her to lead the way up to the cabin. She sets off without batting an eyelid.
“That woman hates me,” she says.
“What woman?” I don’t really need to ask, though. There’s only one possible person she could be referring to. Shay needs to calm the fuck down, or she’s gonna get called into my office and we’ll be having words. Really unpleasant ones. Sophia jerks her head to the right, where Shay is leaning against one of the storage units, talking to Dex, one of the Widow Makers’ longest standing members. She’s glaring at Sophia, sending her the foulest look imaginable. She seems completely oblivious to the fact that I’m even here. When she does notice me I shoot daggers at her and she looks the other way, eyes to the ground. When I was a kid, Ryan taught me how to treat a woman. Southern manners are hard to shake off, regardless of where you end up living and regardless of how other people may treat the fairer sex. Shay’s something else, though. She’s enough to make me forget my manners entirely.
“You guys used to sleep together, right?” Sophia asks.
She’s far too astute for her own good. I can see the awkward look on her face out of the corner of my eye; I know telling her the truth is only going to make her feel weird, but in the same vein I’m not going to fucking lie to her. I never will. “Yeah. Couple of times, back when she first showed up here. I put a stop to it very quickly.”
“Why? I mean, she’s a beautiful woman. You didn’t think so?”
I laugh, placing my hand non-too-subtly on Sophia’s ass as we climb the hill toward the cabin. “Sugar, a girl can be just about the most stunning thing to ever walk the surface of this planet, but if she’s ugly on the inside then it’s only a matter of time before she’s ugly on the outside, too.”