Bikers Desire (BBW Motorcycle Romance) (Dark Souls MC) (3 page)

I frowned and shook my head. “How did you know I was a nurse?” I questioned.

Liam laughed. “Come on,” he said, kicking at a patch of lifted dirt. “Don’t ask silly questions Mackenzie. The club has been scouting you for months. We know everything there is to know about you. Maybe even a few things you might not know about yourself.”

The way my name sounded curling from his tongue made me shiver. “I don’t know,” I whispered, keeping my eyes trained on his as I weakly began to get dressed. “Only if you promise that from now on I get to decide who I want to have sex with.”

Liam nodded and held up two fingers in solidarity. He lit up another cigarette and handed it to me. I hesitantly took a puff, patting my chest as I coughed. “Scouts honor sweetheart. Look…I’m sorry about that but you needed to understand how we operate.”

“I get it,” I managed. “I still don’t understand how my father could be capable of something like that. But I get it. Why you had to do what you did. I…I guess it could have been worse.”

Liam nodded. “So,” he breathed. His tone was as soft as I had ever heard it. “What do you say?”

I thought it over for a moment and bit down my bottom lip. “Alright,” I finally spoke up, meeting eyes with him once more. “I’m in.”

Enjoy what you read?
More stories involving Mackenzie and her kinky adventures with the Dark Souls will be available soon in the Kindle store. For now please check out a free preview below of one of Aubrey Watts’
full length
romances,
Trouble
, available in the Kindle store now
here
.

Trouble by Aubrey Watts

Part 1

A N D E R S

Chapter 1

—

I
lived for the thick, lingering silence that followed sex. There was something comforting about it. It gave me time to adjust. Time to reflect. I lit a cigarette and took a slow drag off the end of it.

The leaky ceiling above me was covered in fine cracks and the paint had yellowed from water damage. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. This entire place was on its last leg—from the termite chewed flooring to the broken appliances in the kitchen. I made a mental note-to-self to pick up a few things from the hardware store next time I was in town.

It was the least I could do.

I studied the sleeping woman spread out beside me. She was naked but a sweaty sheet was wrapped loosely around her body. Her chest rose and fell with every soft breath she took and I reached forward to tuck a strand of blonde hair away from her face. I couldn’t be the person she wanted me to be but that didn’t mean I didn’t care about her.

With a deep sigh, I maneuvered to the edge of her mattress and reached for my discarded t-shirt on the floor, pulling it over my head. I entered her small bathroom and turned on the sink, running the water until it came out warm and splashing a stream of it on my face.

The man staring back at me in the mirror was not the same one who went away five years ago. Dull eyes sat sunken in beneath a mop of messy hair and new scars had appeared where there weren’t any before. My body was my only crutch. Doing time wasn’t any walk in the park but at least it gave you ample time to shape up. Afghanistan did its part in shaping a lanky kid from the hills into a fighter but prison hardened me. I ran a hand over my jaw and exhaled a deep breath. I really fuckin’ needed to shave but I told myself the same thing I always did. That I’d do it tomorrow.

She was awake when I reentered the room, sitting up in bed smoking a cigarette with her back turned from me. She perked up when she noticed me in the doorway and the lust in her eyes made me wince. She was a pretty little thing. There was really no denying that. But I couldn’t force myself to feel something I didn’t.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and sat down beside her, pulling another cigarette from her pack and lighting it.

“Good morning,” she said hoarsely, trailing her fingertips down my back. “Round two?”

I chuckled and shook my head, pulling on my pants. “I have to go,” I told her, reaching for my boots and sliding into them.

Confusion etched its way across her face. She was trying to make sense of me. I didn’t bother telling her that there was only one woman who ever managed to do that successfully. I looked down at my watch. If I didn’t leave soon I would be late for group therapy. Attendance was required for all parolees in the state of Washington—and even though I didn’t like it—I understood why it was necessary. I wasn’t the only one who had forgotten how to exist in the real world.

“Why?” She pouted, clawing her fingers through her messy hair. “But it’s my only day off. I thought you said you’d stay home with me today…”

“I know,” I said with a nod, pulling my arms through my jacket and keeping my cigarette balanced between my lips. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“You always say that.” She sighed and shook her head. “You’re always promising…”

Her voice cracked and she fell silent. I tried to reach out to her but she pushed me away. “I thought we had a great night last night,” she continued, “I just don’t understand why you always have to take off.”

She paced back and fourth in front of the bed and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, turning around to face me with her hands on her hips.

“It’s not like that,” I tried, keeping my eyes focused on the foggy glass behind her. It showed my smudged reflection rather than any outside scenery. I wasn’t sure how many more gloomy days I could take.
Poulsbo
was really starting to wear away at me. It rained here even more than it did in Seattle. This town was too fuckin’ small and too fuckin’ bleak.

“It’s her isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The girl whose name you always say in your sleep,” she continued, waving her hand at me, “Nina.”

The sound of her name made me wince and a heavy lump surfaced in my throat. I slumped back down on the bed and rubbed my neck. This time the silence wasn’t comforting. It was deafening. But I continued smoking, allowing it to lengthen as I searched for a response.

“Come on,” she pressed on, her piercing eyes burning against my face. “You can tell me.”

I sighed and exhaled a wave of smoke from my lungs. “No,” I finally answered, shaking my head, “It’s not about her.”

T H E N

The Afghani desert wasn’t a place anyone would want to call home. But it was to me—for four long years—until one random day it wasn’t anymore. Honorable discharge. That’s what they called it. But there wasn’t anything honorable about it.

I sat on the front steps of my childhood home and stretched my legs, taking in my surroundings. The world seemed to breathe around me. A big “for sale by bank” sign was mounted into the ground a few feet away and the setting sun casted a yellow-orange tinge on the freshly cut lawn. It was a stark contrast to the dehydrated sand, harsh sunlight, and forever-lingering scent of gunpowder I was accustomed to.

Home. I didn’t have one anymore but this place was as good a fill-in as any. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

My eyes roamed over the forty acres of land my father once called his own—before the recession took his job and his dignity. The large oak tree in the center of the yard was a focal point of a lot of my childhood memories. The damn thing was huge. When Liam was twelve, he fell from it and broke both arms. He sported two casts for the better part of that year and wasn’t even capable of wiping his own ass.

I laughed at the memory and took a slow drag off the end of my smoke. The loud rumble of a truck approaching in the distance pulled me to my feet. A pickup barreled down the driveway, dirt and pebbles flying in its wake. It came to an abrupt stop a few feet away from me and a few seconds later, Liam climbed out and lumbered towards me.

Four years was a damn long time to be away from someone and in that time, my baby brother had grown in ways I never thought possible. He was still a pasty motherfucker but time had been kind to him. Long gone was the scrawny kid who was often the butt of every malnourishment joke. While I was off fighting a war I no longer saw any value in, little Liam Orsen had bloomed from a boy into a man.

“The prodigal son returns!” he called out to me in lieu of a hello, twirling his smoke around in his fingers before tossing it to the ground. He smiled at me warmly and pulled me into a tight hug, slapping his palm against my back as he gave me a slow once over. “Damn if it ain’t good to see you. Jesus, you’re one big SOB now. How much are you lifting these days man?”

I chuckled and kicked at a patch of lifted dirt. “Bout’ three-fifty.”

Liam whistled and reached into the bed of his truck, pulling out a pack of beer. “Well come on,” he said, waving at me as he crossed the yard, “lets go shoot the shit down at the bridge.”

The bridge…

Now I understood why he wanted to meet here. If the oak tree was a staple from our childhood—the bridge was one from our teenage years.

“Alright,” I said with a nod, falling in line behind him.

He shook another smoke from his pack and lit it with a silver lighter, offering one to me. I accepted and lit it with the end of his, taking a slow drag. “I thought you quit,” I noted as we maneuvered our way through a thick patch of twisted brush.

“Yeah well…” He shrugged and swatted at a mosquito on his arm. “A lot can happen in four years.”

I nodded. That it could.

“Anyway…I only stopped when me and Nina were tryin’ for a baby…” His voice tapered off and he fell silent—seeming to realize the weight his words carried.

“Oh,” I answered, rubbing my neck, “right…how’s that going?”

Liam stopped walking and glared at me, furrowing his brows. “She never told you?”

I shook my head. I didn’t bother telling him that I hadn’t heard from her since the day I left for basic.

“We broke up man,” he said, clearing his throat and continuing forward. “Shit…about a year ago.”

“What?” I frowned and shook my head in disbelief. “I thought you were engaged…”

“Yeah, well—” Liam shrugged. “Shit happens I guess. We just wanted different things. If you want to know the truth I don’t think she ever really got over you leavin’. She was a mess. Cried about it every time she thought I wasn’t payin’ attention…”

The thought of Nina crying over me made me wince. I took a good hard look at my baby brother. He was perhaps our parent’s greatest accomplishment—yet he couldn’t manage to hold onto perhaps the best damn woman in the world—or at least Kitsap County.

We approached the dilapidated bridge and shook off our jackets beside the river. We used to come here all the time to skinny-dip and shoot the shit. It served as the heart of Poulsbo once but those days had long since passed.

“Well damn,” Liam said with a smile, cracking open a beer and tossing one to me. “It’s been awhile hasn’t it?”

“Sure has,” I answered, taking a seat in the matted.

“Remember when Nina had that accident with the rope swing?” he asked, taking a seat beside me and adjusting the rubber band holding his hair away from his face.

“Yeah.” I nodded and stared out at the rocky water. The current wasn’t strong today. “Damn near cracked her head open.”

The game was called “ship in the harbor.” I don’t know how the hell we came up with it. It had nothin’ to do with anything. All it involved was grabbing hold of the rope in awkward ways—the goal being to dive into the water as close to headfirst as possible. Whoever could contort their body the best would win. It was stupid. It was dangerous. And it was fun as hell. Until, inevitably, it all went wrong.

I could still remember the way she looked when she first climbed onto the rope that day; stepping over empty cans of beer the three of us had nicked from our parents. She wore her hair up in a bun on top of her head but a few strands fell loose around her temples as she swung her legs upwards without effort, twisting her body around the rope as her nose kissed the dirt. Inertia pushed her cleavage forward against the fabric of her pink bikini top and Liam and I pretended not to notice. She wasn’t a girl to us just yet…’least not in that way.

“Well what’re you waiting for?” Liam called out to her. “Swing already!”

And so she did, her limber body cascading into the air and splashing against the water—head first and feet last—the dark current sucking her under in one gulp.

We looked at each other in anticipation as we waited for her to come up. And when she finally did, she was on her back with her dark eyes focused on the oppressive storm clouds above her, drifting as though she wasn’t quite asleep or awake. The most impressive thing of all was the fact that she was somehow managing to stay afloat with a large gash behind her right ear and a stomach full of alcohol.

“She’s fuckin’ bleeding!” I called out to Liam, jumping into the crimson water and paddling towards her. He followed suit and we fished her out, dragging her semi-conscious form onto the bank and digging our feet into sharp wedges of rock in the process.

How the hell had we ever thought this was safe?

She spit water in my face when I got close enough to her to survey the damage. She found humor in everything; even the grimmest of situations. “I’m fine,” she insisted, pushing me away from her.