Chapter 2

2

SLOAN

B ones had it all wrong. I wasn't hesitant to hold on to him because he was a demon. In fact, I'm more comfortable around all of the demons of the Knights of Hades motorcycle club than they realize. At least they don't try to hide their nature behind pious, righteous veneers with perfect white smiles and gentle voices.

I didn't want to touch him because it hurts too much. Something about him makes my skin feel alive in a way it hasn't for years. He makes my heart beat faster, like it's wanting to shake off the protective apathy I've wrapped myself in.

Bones should terrify me. I should want to rid the world of his demonic presence.

Maybe it's because he's so much bigger than me, in every way. I'm tall for a woman--a fault Father Xavius often chided me for, reminding me that a proper woman did not take up as much space. Bones makes me feel small, with my head barely reaching his chest even in the borrowed heels I'm wearing. He's broader than even the strongest Brother I know of, but he looks lean compared to the other demons. Especially the one who goes by Brute and the other one, Heathen. They may look like humans, but their stature isn't natural. Someone who had never heard of the supernatural would know that these men aren't human.

It's not just the fact that Bones could break me in half without a thought that should frighten me. Many of the other demons have tattoos, but none are as extensive as his. His entire face is tattooed so that whatever features he had are hidden by a macabre mask of a skull. Most of his face is white with harsh black creating the grim visage. Around his eyes, even his eyelids, are a deep black as is the lower half of his nose. A gruesome smile stretches from one temple down across his mouth, ending at the opposite, the black ink making the sharpened teeth stand out in stark relief. The white ink curls under his sharp square jaw, before being replaced with black once more. The effect makes it look like shadows are melting down his neck, like his head is a hellish bust.

His hands are tattooed in similar fashion, blacked out except for white bones along his fingers and the back of his hands.

Did he choose his name because of the tattoos or did he get the tattoos because of his name?

The justicars drilled enough demonology into me that I know Bones isn't his real name.

A bounce under us has my musings disappearing like smoke in the wind. My mind was numb for most of the ride, it's the only way I can handle being this close to him. The desert landscape became nothing more than a blur as Bones drove us down winding roads and twisting corners. I'd been lost enough in my own mind that I hadn't realized we'd returned to town until he popped the curb in front of a building, pulling to stop in front of a solid wooden door.

I was here a few days ago, when the motorcycle club had a sort of wedding reception to celebrate the joining of Lacy and a demon, Cinder. I'd been in more of a fog than I am now, but I remember seeing the two smile at one another and wondering what it'd be like to experience their happiness. I still can't even imagine it.

Bones taps the back of my hand and I let go of him with a jolt. I fling myself off of the bike, not waiting for him to help. Retreating a few steps, I stare at the dusty, cracked sidewalk as I fumble with the buckle under my chin. It's like my fingers have become as numb as my heart.

I suck in a breath when scuffed leather boots and black denim clad legs fill my view and then Bones is knocking my hands away to take over. When we were on the bike, the wind had stolen away his scent. Now, in the still air of the desert, this close it almost chokes me. Sun warmed leather and warm autumnal scents that make me think of sunny days with orange, yellow, and red leaves falling all around me.

"It's like you want to strangle yourself." Bones' deep timber rattles in my rib cage, his irritation tapering each word.

Stupid girl. I wrap my arms around my middle, letting my eyes go unfocused as his rough fingertips manage to loosen the straps after a sharp pinch and he pulls the helmet from me. I hadn't realized how much I'd tightened the straps in my fumbling and shame rears its head, looking too similar to Father Xavius.

Useless girl. Only good for two things.

I grit my teeth, forcing the echoes of his voice into silence. He isn't here. I'm not there, stuck in that compound, following him around like I might as well be on a leash.

Listen. Obey. Apologize. Exist.

"I'm sorry," I offer, using the same tone I'd perfected at the compound. Respectful but meek. Not a hint of rebellion. "It won't happen again."

I wait, tension threatening to turn my muscles to stone. I stay loose, though, my head bowed submissively. Experience has taught me it's better to stay loose in case he hits me.

Bones doesn't say anything. He just grunts, making me flinch, and then he makes a sound of disgust. I press my lips into a thin line, trying not to provoke him any further.

He twists and sets the helmet on the leather seat of his bike, an intimidating black on black beast I'd never imagined ever seeing let alone riding.

"Come on," he grunts out, turning and stalking to the door before pushing the door open and entering the bar. I hurry to follow him, keeping an exact two paces behind him out of habit.

The Styx bar is the Knights of Hades's motorcycle club's favorite place to gather other than their club house outside of Devil's Haven. The room is dark compared to outside, the only light coming from the few overhead fixtures. It's enough to illuminate the wooden floors and the large space. Along the back is a bar, and to my right is a wall with a door. That's where the bathrooms are. There's a hall further down from the bathrooms, which I learned is where the stairs to the apartment above are.

There are a few pool tables, the green surfaces illuminated by the overhead lights. Each table has the balls racked still in the black plastic triangle, like they're waiting for someone to come play.

I recognize the owner, Sydney, where she's propped a hip against a table where an older man sits with a plated sandwich and fries in front of him. They're the only ones in the place and she raises her chin in greeting to Bones before smiling down at the man again and patting his shoulder affectionately before heading to the bar.

The older gentleman looks up and raises a palm to the demon in front of me. "Afternoon, Bones."

To my surprise, Bones pauses and extends a hand to the man. The man, with white hair thinning on his sun aged head, takes it without hesitation to shake. His hand, gnarled with age, look like a child's in Bone's grip. "Colton. How's the new POS system working out for you? Not giving you any issues is it?"

Colton grunts, a glower taking over his face. "Don't know why I bothered having you upgrade, because I can't make heads nor tails of it. But Junie is happy and she's young enough that she understands all the technology. I told her she's in charge of the register from now on since she likes it so much."

Bones laughs, a warm sound that has my heart lifting up, the numbing apathy slipping its protective hold. Bones' laugh is beautiful, and too short.

"You need to hurry up and hand the keys over to that girl. You know she can handle it."

"She tell ya to say that?" Colton asks suspiciously before a smirk lights up his craggily face. "My granddaughter can have the shop when they haul my dead body outta it." Colton's eyes travel past Bones and land on me, catching me watching them. Automatically, I drop my gaze to the floor and it's an effort to keep my hands at my side. "You going to introduce me to your girl? We seem to be getting more new faces around here. First Lacy, though she's not really new, I guess. Then Blaze's Kennedy, with those gun happy men chasing her."

I'm caught, like a bug under a magnifying glass, unwilling to move less I get squashed.

Bones clears his throat, making me look up at him uncertainly. He inclines his head towards Colton pointedly as he says, "This is Sloan. Sloan, Colton--the meanest motherfucker in the town. We put up with him since he's got enough connections, there's no part or piece of hardware he can't get us."

"Fuck off," Colton retorts before bracing a hand on the table as he heaves himself up; his age displayed in every wrinkle and spot on his darkly tanned skin.

I hurry to close the distance, not wanting to make him exert any more energy than necessary. "Oh, please don't get up on my account, sir," I plead. "I wouldn't forgive myself for interrupting your lunch."

Colton sits down heavily in his seat at my words, elbowing Bones in the side of his thigh. "She respects her elders. She's too good for ya." My face heats as I realize that Colton thinks I'm with Bones the same way Kennedy is with Blaze and Lacy is with Cinder.

"Oh, no," I rush to explain, my heart beating frantically. "It isn't like that. Bones is my--" I hesitate, uncertain what to say. Captor? Warden?

"She's under the protection of Cerberus Securities for now," Bones answers so smoothly it covers my hesitation. "Reaper has me keeping her close until we figure out the next steps for her."

Surprised, I crane my neck to look up at Bones, not realizing how close I'd gotten to him. His warm, earthy brown eyes meet mine and there's a look in them that has my breath catching and my heart skipping. In the next moment, it's gone. I had to imagine it. But why would I imagine something that shoots through the thick, unfeeling fog like a bolt of lightning and striking heat between my thighs?

Colton saves me by grunting in understanding. "Good. Never mix business and pleasure. Always ends in a mess."

Sydney calls out to the three of us. "You here for a reason, Bones, or just to shoot the shit with old guys? You leave Colton to his lunch, else the town will flood the place if he's late to opening the store back up."

My eyes go wide at the caustic words directed at Bones, fear for the woman making my heart race like a horse on steroids. Bones doesn't react the way I expect, though. He raises his hands as if to show he's harmless and walks to the bar. In a stupor, I follow, sliding onto the cracked leather stool when he pulls one out and points to it. He takes his own, leaving one between us. Sydney raises a brow but says nothing. Both her hands are flat on the pristine bar top, a proprietary posture, as she waits for Bones to answer.

"Needed to get out of the clubhouse." Bones' voice is low enough that only she and me can hear it. "Sick of my own cooking. I'll take a beer and whatever is easiest." He tilts his face towards me, his eyes pinning me in place. "What do you want?"

I blink, realizing he's actually giving me a choice and not sure what to do. "I don't know. I'm not really hungry."

Sydney and Bones share a look I can't interpret. Then Sydney is reaching under the bar and sliding a two sided laminated menu no larger than a standard sheet of paper in front of me. "Why don't you look that over while I get Sammy on a burger for him."

"I'm not hungry," I repeat, hating the weakness in my voice.

"You're eating. Don't care if it's one of the salads, but you're going to eat," Bones tells me, his voice full of unwavering confidence.

I stare at him, the weight of his orders making my shoulders curl. "Okay." I look down at the menu, letting the words blur as I fight back tears. I'm not going to cry in front of these strangers. I can't.

"Hey," Bones calls out, his voice softer than I've heard it yet. "You need help choosing, I can help you."

I shake my head, my blonde hair swinging forward to hide my face. "No. I got it."

His stare is burrowing into me and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the panic at bay. Am I really so messed up that I can't remember the last time I had a choice in what I ate? And now I can't even make a simple decision like this anymore?

I close my eyes and swallow thickly, fighting the urge to shut down. To disappear into the blank gray that allowed me to survive the Light Justiciars for half of my life.

I jolt when Bones' large hand wraps around my nape. His hold is firm, his hand big enough his fingertips brush either side of my windpipe. Rather than making me bolt, his hold grounds me. Relief settles the trembling I hadn't noticed, and a tight band around my chest is loosened.

"BLT on Wheat with fruit or the bacon cheeseburger with fries?" The question soothes the jagged edges of the anxiety spinning through me. I hesitate. He squeezes my neck, just hard enough to stop me from spiraling again. "Don't think, just answer. Now, Sloan."

"Bacon cheeseburger with fries," I breathe out, focusing on his touch. If he lets go, I'm terrified the anxiety will take over again. The anxiety I can't make myself numb enough to ignore.

"Good girl." His praise flutters through me and my chest eases a bit more. "Now: water or sweet tea?"

My answer comes easier this time. "Water," I breathe out. I'm rewarded by his thumb stroking the side of my neck, reigniting the warmth between my thighs at pleasing him.

"Now, tell that to Sydney."

My head jerks up, looking at Sydney with shock and humiliation has my head dropping. Only for Bones to stop me, his thumb digging under my jaw and not letting me look down again.

"Sloan." My name's a reminder, a confident expectation that I'll obey, and maybe even a promise of a reward.

I meet Sydney's eyes, and rather than condemnation or derision, her hazel are patient. Like she'll wait as long as it takes for me to answer. A brush of Bones' thumb along my jaw reminds me that he isn't as patient. I clear my throat gently before telling her my order.

She smiles, like she's proud of me even if we're basically strangers. "Coming right up, hon."

When she heads to the serving window to relay my order, a full-body sigh rushes from me. Exhilaration follows.

Bones' touch disappears, leaving my skin freezing without his heat and me reeling. I let out an embarrassing mewl as I move, chasing his touch.

His eyes are ravenous, framed by the gothic black hollows of his tattoo. My lips part and his eyes drop to them. All I can do is wait, a rabbit in front of a fox.

Bones sits up straight a moment before the door to the Styx opens and a flood of Knights fills the quiet space with their raucous conversations.