Satan's Revenge (21 page)

He takes a semiautomatic from his belt and lays it on the desk next to him. “I know what I’d do. What our code demands: blood for blood. But I also know that he’s not my flesh, so I’m leaving the decision up to you, and you alone.”

With a look toward the rest of the Sons, Flint walks back out of the office, and Tag, Bean, and Hollywood follow after him.

Silence envelops the room, broken only by the sound of Marcus’s heavy breathing. He has yet to meet Drifter’s eyes. I look at Drifter, who is still studying his little brother, as though he will find some clue on him as to what action to take.

“Look at me,” he finally whispers. Marcus slowly turns his face up to meet his older brother’s gaze.

Drifter takes a step toward the desk and picks up Flint’s gun. He glances down and flicks the safety off.

“Drifter, don’t,” I murmur.

“It’s the way of the club, and it’s what he deserves,” he replies, his voice a tense mixture of throttled emotion. “We didn’t take care of Ace that night, and look what happened. No loose ends.”

“He’s not a loose end. He’s your brother. And if it weren’t for him, you might not have found me.”

“What are you talking about?”

I glance at Marcus, who has resumed his defeated expression, eyes downcast.

“When Ace was beating me, Marcus tried to stop him, even though Ace had knocked him around pretty well already. Ace had to throw him out of the room, and I heard him taking even more of a beating. It bought time…I don’t know what more Ace would have done if he’d been able to.”

“But he brought you there in the first place. If it weren’t for him, none of this would have happened. How can you defend him?”

“It’s not black and white, Drifter. You weren’t the absolute villain of the story when you were a teenager, and he’s not the absolute villain now.”

Marcus’s head snaps up when he hears me talking about Drifter as a teenager.

“I just…I know what kind of guilt you’ve lived with until now,” I continue. “Could you imagine the kind of guilt you’ll live with for the rest of your life if you kill him? I don’t think you could live with yourself.”

Marcus begins to try to speak with his gag in.

“Shut up,” Drifter says to him. “Just shut up. There is nothing you could possibly say right now. You’ve never let me forget what happened. Never. I tried everything, and it was never enough. And whenever I thought things were getting better you’d come back and twist the knife in a little harder. And then you take the person I love most in the world?”

Marcus looks back at him in shock. I don’t think Drifter’s ever spoken to him like this.

“Know that the only reason I’m not killing you right now is because Violet asked me not to. That’s it. We’re done from now on. You’ll leave this town, and you never come back. Got it?”

Marcus nods slowly. He looks at me for a moment, and then drops his chin to his chest.

Drifter begins to turn away, and then pauses. “No, you know what? I do have one question: why’d you even come here in the first place? Just to fuck with me? To screw up my life?

Marcus mumbles something incoherently, the gag making it impossible to understand him.

Drifter leans forward and yanks it out of his mouth. “What?”

“…I was blackballed at all the gambling casinos in Oregon. Heard there was some action here.”

Drifter stares at him for a moment. Then he leans forward and puts the gag back in. Marcus tries to say something else, but it’s unintelligible.

“Enough,” he says, and Marcus goes quiet.

Drifter turns to me and holds his hand out, palm up. I place mine in his and without another word to his brother, he pulls the door to the office open, and we walk out together.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I can’t pretend that everything has been smooth sailing for Drifter and me in the last few months. I’ve been getting angry with him very easily—not yelling or anything, just snapping at him about little things. And feeling anxious whenever he’s out, always wanting to know where he is.

In my calmer moments, I know he’s trying his best to make everything up to me. And the last several weeks have felt like a return to normal. Actually, that’s not true. They’ve felt better, because that wall he always had up is gone now. It’s nothing concrete I can point to; I can just feel it.

I’ve also gone to an anxiety support group to help me deal with the panic attacks—Drifter’s idea. So maybe another part of it is that I’m more present than I was before.

Today, I’m actually leaving work and going straight home to change for our rescheduled anniversary dinner. The one we never got to have. He made a reservation at the Avery. I have butterflies in my stomach for some reason, like Drifter is a boy I’m having my third date with.

Dr. Green waves at me as I finish up my paperwork at the nurse’s station and head down to the locker room. He’s been completely respectful ever since he met Drifter. I toss my scrubs in my locker and drive home, absentmindedly rubbing the white circular scar on my cheek from the cigarette burn. The one on my shoulder healed faster, but I think I’ll always have a scar on my face.

When I pull up to the house, I spot Drifter’s truck and bike out front. He must have gotten out of work early. I pull into the garage and open the door to the kitchen, smiling as Kalb and Scout eagerly greet me.

I kneel down so they can lick my face, and I rub my hands into the fur around their necks. I dig my hands into Scout’s longer fur around his collar, and feel something tied to it. I pull my head back and try to calm the two of them down so I can get a good look. I spin the collar around and a sparkle catches my eye.

Tied to a white satin ribbon on Scout’s collar is my mother’s engagement ring.

I gasp, and tears spring to my eyes. How is this possible?

I untie the ribbon’s bow and the ring slips into my hand. It’s just as I remembered it; the diamond and sapphires glinting perfectly in the afternoon light. Scout and Kalb calm down as I stand up, and they trot over to their water bowls as I look around the empty kitchen and living room in confusion.

“Drifter?” I call out. No answer. I walk across the tile and then through the living room, down the hallway, glancing quickly into the now empty guest room. Our master bedroom door is open just a crack, and I pause in front of it for a moment before pushing it open.

My jaw drops as I do. The room is covered in vases of white flowers – all different kinds—with white rose petals spread out on the bed. Drifter is standing next to it, on the side nearer the bathroom. He’s barefoot, wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans.

“Oh my god, what’s happening?” I murmur, as I wander, dazed, into the room.

He holds out his hands with a smile, encouraging me to come to him. As I raise my hands, he looks down at the ring and his smile grows wider.

“Oh, good, you found it,” he says.

“Where did
you
find it?”

“Found it a few weeks ago in the mail. No return address.” His smile dampens momentarily. There is only one person it could be from, but other than that, Marcus hasn’t tried to make contact.

He looks back up at me and clears his throat nervously, then kneels.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” is all I can say, as tears begin to stream down my face.

“Violet, I know not all of the last year has been smooth sailing, but…”

“Yes!” I exclaim. He bursts out laughing.

“Wait! I have a whole thing prepared.”

“Right, OK, sorry.”

“But going through it all with you only made me more sure that you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. And not being able to get to you in the hospital when you were hurt, well, that really made me want to make it legal, so everyone else knows about it, too. You’re the only one I want to wake up to every day, the only one I want to fall asleep next to, raise kids with, walk the dogs with…I want you next to me always.”

He takes my mom’s ring out of my trembling hand and holds it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Violet, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” I reply, and fall to my knees, too. He places the ring on my finger and it fits perfectly. His hands are quickly on the side of my face and he is showering me with kisses that mix with my salty tears of happiness.

I wrap my arms around his neck and he wraps his around my waist and then stands and scoops me up, our lips never leaving each other’s. He tosses me onto the bed and I squeal as I land. He jumps on top of me and we’re instantly tearing at each other’s clothes.

Our bodies crush the rose petals beneath us as we squirm. I pull his t-shirt off over his head and run my hands over his tattooed pecs and down over his taught abs. He sits up a bit and gives me the same treatment, pulling my shirt off quickly. He presses his body back down against mine and I gasp as our lips touch, an electric current running between them and all the way down to my toes.

His tongue slips into my mouth and explores slowly. I press mine back against it, and they dance around each other as our fingers find each other’s flies. Almost simultaneously, we undo each other’s buttons and work the zippers down. He breaks away from me and stands up, hooking his fingers around the sides of my jeans and pulling them off, before pushing his own to the floor.

I pick my foot off the bed and run it over his stomach, admiring his body, and run it teasingly over the waistband of his boxers, where the top of his erection is poking through. He growls with lust and crawls back onto the bed. I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he dips his head and nibbles at the top of my breast. He pulls my bra cup down and sucks hard on my nipple, pulling it into his warm mouth. My hips practically vault off the bed at the strength of the sensation. I feel him flick his tongue across my nipple and I groan as he lightly brushes his teeth against me.

His hands work their way under my back and I feel him unclasp my bra against the bed. He leans back and pulls it off my arms and then dives back against my other breast, sucking it hard into his mouth. I whimper as wetness spreads between my legs. He begins to kiss down my stomach, stopping to roll his tongue around my belly button. His fingers hook around my panties and he pulls them off my legs roughly, then bends back down, taking a long lick of my slit.

I gasp as he makes contact with my clit, and he shoves his knees between my legs, forcing them farther open. I run my hands through his hair and he takes them in his, entwining our fingers and then pinning them next to my hips, against the mattress.

I’m immobile as he licks me again and again, working me up, but never spending enough time on my clit to satisfy me. He’s driving me crazy and he knows it. I moan, biting my lip, and he finally stops at my clit, circling it rapidly with his deft tongue. I’m so wound up that I find myself building to a huge orgasm already. I press my hips up, into his mouth, and he sucks on my clit. It drives me over the edge, and I completely unwind under his touch.

As my cries begin to die down, I realize he’s still flicking my clit back and forth with his tongue—and doesn’t seem to have any intention of stopping.

“Oh, Drifter, please,” I murmur, as the pleasure builds up in me again, faster than I would have thought possible. But he doesn’t stop.

His finger slips inside me, pressing against my g-spot. The pleasure is so intense, it’s almost unbearable.

Suddenly, he pulls his finger out and yanks off his boxers. I’m putty in his hands as he turns me onto my side and slips behind me, spooning me, and grinds his cock between my butt cheeks. His arm curls around my top hip and finds my clit again.

I feel his huge dick at my opening and then he is thrusting inside me. His bottom hand snakes under my body and finds my breast, rubbing my nipple between his fingers. As he thrusts in just a second time, I find myself coming again.

“Drifter, oh, fuck!” I yell as I begin to spasm around him. This second orgasm is even more powerful than the first, and as I start to regain awareness of my surroundings, I realize he is still hard inside me.

He pulls back and thrusts in again slowly, building up his rhythm again.

“Tell me that you want me,” he whispers in my ear.

“Yes, yes, always.”

“And that you are mine.”

“Forever, Drifter, forever.”

He groans at my words, and slams into me, hard. Both of his hands move to my hips, pulling me back against him. I cry out and reach up to the headboard, bracing myself against him as he pounds into me.

“Oh, god, Violet!” he yells, and I feel him empty himself inside me as I come for a third time, my body going slack as I completely lose control.

I don’t know how long we lie there, his body curled around me, and still inside me. I finally become vaguely aware of the scent of roses; our bodies having crushed the petals beneath us and released their full fragrance into the air.

I turn toward him and scratch his beard. He smiles and his eyes flicker open. He kisses my hand as it passes his mouth, then nudges the ring with his nose.

“I like seeing this on you,” he says.

“Me, too. It fits perfectly. I must have the same size hands as my mom.”