Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4) (8 page)

I flinched. “You don’t know me,” I half whispered. “You spent one night with me, you don’t know anything about me.”

He stepped forward. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he declared hotly. “I spent that night inside you, exploring every inch of you, not just your body, but your fuckin’
soul
, flower. You opened up to me, not just your legs, you gave me everything. Now in the harsh light of day you’re running scared? Don’t do that shit, you’ll regret it,” he growled, his hands moving to my neck.

I blinked a couple of times, trying to clear my vision of the tears obscuring them.

“You need to leave,” I told him, ignoring the beautiful sentiment, and truth behind his words. As insane as it was. He was right. It had been more. The most it could be. And the only thing it could be. The best night of my life. Who knew the best night of my life would be followed up with the worst day of my existence in the space of a couple of days?

His face wiped of all emotion. “You better be sure of this shit, flower,” he ground out. “I’m not fuckin’ around. I ain’t waiting for you,” he continued his voice hard.

“Please leave,” I repeated, unable to say anything else.

Asher’s cold expression searched my face and he stepped back, shaking his head. “Fuck this,” he muttered.

He turned his back, giving me one last view of his cut, of him, before he mounted his bike and roared off.

I stood woodenly on the doorstep, watching him go, my heart bleeding, and my expression blank.

He didn’t look back, once.

Asher, Present Day

He lied. He did fuckin’ wait. Three years Asher waited for Lily to get her shit together, for her to grow up, realize what was real between them, to come back.

Three years of agony, of dreaming of her, trying to forget her, fuck her out of his system.

He didn’t grovel. He wasn’t gonna follow her around like a puppy dog, trying to convince her to take a chance on them, on him. Nope. He wasn’t exactly sure whether she was playing fucked up games, or was genuinely scared of the depth between them from just one night.

He knew one thing, though, she was a fuckin’ liar. She felt something. He knew that. That night, being the first man into her sweet pussy, the first to explore her sweet little body, best of his miserable life. Superseded the night he got patched into the Sons.

That scared him shitless. That one night and one bitch could get under his skin, and play games with his mind. Worse that she stayed there for three fuckin’ years. He watched his brothers find it. Grab a hold of that shit, claiming their Old Ladies, happily being pussy whipped. Even fuckin’ Bull found that shit. But him. No. For a year he watched her, in agony and anger at her coldness, at the way her gaze flickered over him as if they were strangers. He didn’t miss the fleeting times when her mask slipped, the times that gave him some kind of fucked up hope. Then he saw nothing of her. She stopped working at Gwen’s store. That was worse. He wanted to watch her, follow her, make sure she was okay.

He didn’t do that. Not only would that make him a lovesick pussy, but a stalker also. So he waited. Though he tried to lie to himself and say he didn’t. Tried to act like she wasn’t all he thought about when he drilled into club whores—it wasn’t her milky white skin, her long blonde hair, her fucking piercing eyes that he pictured.

“Asher?” Lucky brought him out of his pining. Good thing too. He needed to stop this shit. Now. Needed to move the fuck on and stop acting like a fucking chick. Enough was enough. He had been holding onto this shit for too long. He’d been holding onto the feeling she had given him that night. The feeling of home. He’d never had one, not a real one, not since Benjamin. With her soft body in his arms was when he felt it. He knew it had been fucked up, insane even, the way he felt about her. The certainty he had for what was between them. He’d held onto insanity for too long.

“Yeah?” he jerked his head from where he was working on a car in one of the bays.

Lucky leaned casually on the car. “Just wanted to know if you were going to the funeral,” he asked with a blank expression.

Asher straightened from the hood of the car, giving his brother his full attention. “Whose funeral? Yours? Your bitches finally found out about each other?” he joked.

Lucky didn’t smile, unusual, fucker was always smiling, even at jokes made at his own expense.

“Nah, bro. Lily’s mom’s funeral. Gwen, Amy, and the girls are going. The club’s going, to show support. I thought you’d want to go.” Something worked behind the fucker’s usually teasing eyes.

Asher hadn’t forgotten the anger he’d unleashed on him three years ago.

He’d gotten back from the business, which was taking care of some tweaker fucking up one of their shipments, anxious to wipe the blood from his hands and then erase the deeds in Lily’s body. Lucky had slammed him up against the wall, in the hall next to his door.

Three Years Ago

“What the fuck?” he clipped. He was not prepared for the anger coming from his usually carefree friend. Nor did he have the time or patience to inspect the reason for it.

“Tell me you didn’t fuck her over,” Lucky growled, getting in his face.

Asher shoved him back, with effort. He was a big fucker. But didn’t mean Asher didn’t pump iron five times a week for nothing.

“What are you talking about?” he shot, straightening his cut.

Lucky glared at him with empty eyes. “Lily.”

Asher’s entire frame jerked at the mention of her name. Anger he didn’t know he was capable of feeling toward his brother simmered at the mere mention of her name.

“Not a bitch to fuck around with. Not her….” Lucky continued, not flinching in the face of his fury. “She’s not some club slut, so you treating her that way is not fuckin’ acceptable. She’s a fucking kid. Innocent as they come. You corrupted that shit? Bruised that innocence,” his voice was flat but anger, no, fury simmered beneath the surface.

Asher’s voice was not flat when he replied, nor did his anger simmer. It was right there. He stepped forward dangerously. “I fuckin’ know that, brother,” he spat. “What the hell does she have to do with you?” he asked quietly, curiosity underneath his anger.

The fact he was going to bat for a woman was not unusual. As much as he fucked them around, he respected them. Asher didn’t know why he was going to bat for
his
woman. Why he seemed so furious. The fact he was having such a reaction to Lily, when Asher was reasonably sure he hadn’t even spoken to her, grated him.

“She has nothing to do with me. Or you, for that matter. Fuck, brother, anyone could see a girl like that does not belong in our world. If she somehow finds herself there, she should not be running outta here half dressed with tears in her fuckin’ eyes,” Lucky shot with a level stare.

Asher jolted in surprise as Lucky’s words sunk in. “What the fuck?” he muttered.

He didn’t wait for a response, merely pushed into his room, swearing as he was presented with an empty, and mussed bed.

“Fuck!” he yelled at the empty room, at the bed where he experienced the best night of his life.

The next two days were miserable. He didn’t do miserable, especially pining over a chick. But Lily was different. He knew it the moment he laid eyes on her. He knew she was innocent when he first spoke to her, shy. But he had no fuckin’ clue she was a goddamned virgin. He reasoned that a woman who looked like that could never be a fuckin’ virgin. White blonde hair, tight tanned body. Eyes as blue as the ocean. He figured the whole innocent act was just that, an act. He’d been around women all his life, who played various roles to get into bed. He’d quickly realized there was nothing fake about Lily or about how he felt for her.

Which is the reason he turned into a borderline stalker. He knew it was fucked up, but he couldn’t stop.

After finally getting her address after unanswered texts and calls, Asher decided to go around. He’d ridden to Tasman Springs with nerves, and he never got fuckin’ nervous. Not when going into situations where he was dodging bullets. So he couldn’t figure out the reason for them when he knocked on a door of a shitty apartment building in an even worse part of town. Somewhere where Lily did not belong. He didn’t expect the woman on the other side of the door.

Her black rimmed eyes regarded him and rested on his cut. They hardened. “The biker,” she spat with distaste. “And what in the fuck could you be wanting? Didn’t get enough jollies hurting her the first time around?”

Asher had been taken aback by her hostile demeanor and then her words. Hurt Lily? He’d sooner saw off his own arm. He’d finally been able to extract the information out of the small, but mouthy roommate. His determination intensified on the ride back to Amber. He needed to know what the fuck happened, that had her running out when he’d left her sated with a lazy smile on her face.

He’d not been happy with what he found. Dead eyes, emotionless voice. Her beautiful voice spouting lies about what they were. What they weren’t. It surprised him that those words were like a blow to the stomach. That there was nothing he could do to convince her differently when shit had turned her resolve rock solid. He knew it in her face.

No way he’d grovel. Plead. No. So he left. The only girl who punctured his iron clad soul. The one who crawled under his skin.

“So you goin’?” Lucky asked, jerking him back into the present.

He didn’t reply, just wiped his hands on a rag then strode in the direction of the clubhouse. He needed to shower, then he needed to get to his girl.

When he got to the cemetery, he was surprised. Not as surprised as Cade, Brock, and their women were to see him there, though he ignored that. He only had eyes for one woman. The one standing beside a casket covered in all sorts of crazy shit. The one wearing a bright yellow dress, one that showed just how much this shit had drained her. Her eyes were dead. He clenched his fists at the sorrow etched in her gaze. He near exploded at the fucker with his arms around her. He actually stepped forward without even noticing.

“Easy brother….” He felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

He whipped his gaze to Brock, who had stepped away from his woman to restrain him. He regarded him levelly.

“Funeral isn’t the best place to start a brawl,” he stated quietly. “Won’t do any good, ‘specially won’t do any good for her.” He nodded his head at the woman staring into space.