Chapter 8

8

SLOAN

I have no idea what I was thinking, agreeing to come to this party. I clutch the red plastic cup that has very non-alcoholic ice tea in front of me, though the ice melted a long time ago. Each time I shift, the soft lace of the dress tickles my thighs. I steal a look down my chest to make sure my girls are still in place and haven't popped out. Kennedy and Sydney showed up at Lacy's, where she and I were getting ready. Kennedy, gorgeous and slender, hadn't known if I'd have anything to wear so she brought over a few things.

I'd planned on the new jeans I bought when Bones took me shopping, along with a new baby blue shirt with a sweetheart neckline. But the girls convinced me to wear this dress and had built up my confidence when I put it on. I felt sexy and powerful and a secret part of me wanted to see Bones' reaction to me in something so . . . scandalous.

He's been distant since my meeting with Dr. Grayback. I can't say I don't understand. I'm a hot mess right now, as Lacy says. Besides, I just got my life back and the only thing I've been able to decide that I really, truly want is to help the Knights against the Justicars. My mom used to say that revenge isn't healthy or worth it, but I don't think I can really start to move on until I feel like I've done more than just escape.

I know I'm attracted to Bones. Really, really attracted. I just don't know if it's because he's the one who saved me from Father Xavius, some sort of stockholm syndrome since he's the only one I've been around consistently, or if I'm simply attracted to him as a person---demon, whatever.

I'm not a virgin; though it's been a long time and my experiences with Paul weren't that great. It's not like I don't know what attraction and sexual desire feels like.

I just have never experienced this strong of desire before. Even at the height of my love of Paul, I never wanted him as much as I want Bones.

"What's your favorite thing around here, since Reaper's slipped off the cuffs?" Jon asks me. He and his friend, Sampson, came up to Sydney and me when she was getting another beer from a cooler. She made the introductions, and since she didn't tell them to get lost like she had with Chainz, I figure they can't be too bad. They both are wearing leather vests like Bones, but they have a patch that says Probie on the front. Sampson explained it meant they were still being evaluated by the club before becoming full members.

"Hey, don't be an asshole," Sampson chastises his friend before shooting me an apologetic smile. I can admit that Sampson is attractive. He's got what my old YA books would call a mountain man, rugged look with his barrel chest, tree trunk thighs, and shaggy hair with a matching beard. He reaches out and brushes his fingertips against my shoulder and I force myself to not react, keeping my brittle smile directed at him. "Not all of us are as unmannered as Jon here."

"Are you sure about that?" Sydney quips, raising a brow at the man. She gives me a swift glance and I widen my smile at her, letting her know I'm okay... for now. "I'm pretty sure it's a club requirement to be dicks."

Sampson laughs along with Jon. Then he grabs his crotch, "No, it's a requirement to have a big dick." He shoots me a wink after.

My heart picks up, sweat tickling the back of my neck. I take a drink of my tea, hoping to settle my nerves. Sampson's making his interest all too clear. In fact, it's pretty obvious most of the motorcycle club members are out to hook up with someone at the party. I'm not sure why Sampson's so focused on me, not when there are at least a dozen other more attractive and actually available women doing anything they can to get a biker's attention.

I haven't let myself look for Bones since the first time I saw him when we arrived. I don't know if I could handle watching him flirt and dance with a woman. Thankfully, Sydney has no intentions of hooking up with anyone and told me to stick by her side. Apparently, she did the same thing for Kennedy's first club party.

A large hand sliding around my waist makes me jump and almost spill my drink down my front. I stare at Sampson, wide eyed as he closes the distance between us, his other hand pulling my drink from my hand and passing it to Jon.

"Come dance with me, baby," Sampson says with a smirk. "I can show you some of my moves."

"Uhh--" my throat squeezes tight. "That's okay--"

With a yank, he pulls me closer until our legs are touching and his hot breath, which smells rancid, hits my face when he tries to convince me again. "You've been stuck with Bones this whole time, who'd rather hang out taking photos of the sky. You know you want me to show you what it's like being with a real Knight."

"Hey asshole, she doesn't want to," Sydney snaps, shoving Sampson's far shoulder. God, I love her so much for trying to get between us because I can't fucking move. I'm frozen and as Sampson's grip tightens on my waist, my mind just goes . . . blank. I shut down, scurrying to the place inside me that kept me safe so many times. I focus on my breathing, telling myself it's just a dance, that it could be so much worse.

I'm about to tell Sydney it's okay, that I'll dance with Sampson if that's what he wants when Sampson's ripped back away from me. I stumble, Sydney catching me where I almost fall. I cling to her, my eyes wide at the sight in front of me.

"Keep your fucking paws off her, probie." Bones is practically spitting in Sampson's face. When Sampson rolls his eyes, Bones shoves him in the chest with both hands, sending the man staggering backwards into the dance crowd. Women shriek and scatter and Sampson lets out a laugh.

"Oh, shit," Sydney says, and I look at her stunned before looking back at the two men.

"We were just having a good time, Bones," Sampson says, raising his hands up as if to show he's not a threat. "Figured Sloan might want to look at a prettier face since she's been stuck with yours for so long."

Crack!

I yelp, slamming a hand over my mouth as the sound of Bones' fist smashing into the bulkier man's nose reverberates through the air. It's loud enough that everyone close to us hears it over the music pumping from the speakers.

Bones grabs the dazed Sampson by the shirt, hauling him close. "You keep her name out of your mouth, you got it Probie? Or I'll rip that fucking patch and cut off your back before kicking your ass out of town. Are we clear?"

Sampson blanches and raises his hands in surrender. "Got it, man. Don't need to go that far."

Everyone seems to be holding their breath as we wait for Bones to decide if he believes Sampson or not. My heart is in my throat, my chest burning from the lack of air. Sydney's fingers are digging into my arms and I'm holding her just as tight. A quick look shows Blaze, Chainz, and Brute squared up and ready to fight if Bones needs backup. I've paid enough attention to know they'd never back the probie over a full member.

"Good, now fuck off," Bones finally declares and shoves Sampson away as he releases him. The entire area lets out a collective breath as a fight is averted. Jon ditches my drink on top of the closest surface and races towards Sampson, being sure to give Bones some distance. Sampson pushes Jon away, bitching at him before letting Jon guide him away from the party and into the clubhouse to cool off.

Bones looks over at me, his deep brown eyes blazing bright with reflections of the lights above us and something more primal. My heart races again, this time for an entirely different reason. His eyes travel the length of my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Is he going to come over? Will he demand we dance like Sampson did? Do I want him to?

Except his eyes shutter, any hint of desire replaced by indifference. He turns his back to me and strides away, people falling out of his path in a hurry. Only Blaze and Chainz slap him on the shoulder but they make no move to stop him.

Sydney's grip loosens and I'm standing on my own again. I take a deep breath, readying to tell her I need to go but she cuts me off with a knowing grin. She jerks her head in the direction Bones disappeared in.

"Yeah, I know," she says. "Knowing him, he's headed to the back garage. Check the helicopter if you don't see him."

I squeeze her hand that isn't holding a beer. "Thank you," I rush out before hurrying to follow in Bones' wake. I'm not really sure what I'm doing but I know that I need to see him.

The music fades the further I get from the courtyard, though there are plenty of people standing around drinking and talking. There's even a sort of fighting ring off to the distance where two guys are going at each other to the cheers of people around them.

The Knights of Hades are so overwhelmingly different from the near militaristic compound I lived in with the Justicars. Each person or family had their own suite, the higher of a position you had the better rooms. And a party like this? This widespread, chaotic, intimidatingly energetic party would never have been allowed. Any celebrations that were had consisted of polite dinner parties focused on praising the success of a mission or member.

Exposed to the night's breeze, I rub my arms and hurry towards the large building with an open bay door. It's a beacon of light against the dark desert. My blonde hair tickles my neck as it lifts up from the wind and I tug it over my shoulder hoping it won't look too bad by the time I finally make it across the gravel driveway between the garage and the back of the clubhouse. I'm grateful for insisting on flats and not the heels Lacy offered me. Twisting an ankle right now would be mortifying.

To my surprise, the garage is silent. With everyone's bikes lined up in neat rows and from how the party has sprawled out around the clubhouse, I expected to find a few people out here. If Sydney hadn't given me the clue about looking for a helicopter, I probably would have assumed Bones wasn't here. Cautiously, I ease forward into the garage and spot the huge black helicopter to the right.

"Bones?" I call, walking with more confidence towards that side of the garage. Where is he?

I walk around the nose and see the door has been slid open. A familiar jean clad leg hangs loosely from the edge.

"You should be back at the party."

Bones' rumbling statement has me stopping though my blood pumps faster in my veins. I force myself to move closer, not letting old habits of obedience scare me away.

I stop a few feet away from where he lounges on the floor of the helicopter, one leg draped out and his boot resting on a landing skid. He's leaning back against a wall, his face tilted up towards the sky, and his leg is bent close to his chest. He's holding a bottle of liquor I don't recognize resting against his thigh.

"I wanted to check on you." I don't know why I'm whispering. This far from the party, the music is a low, pulsing hum. There's a sort of reverence in this garage, though. Like if I speak too loudly, I'll shatter something I'll never get back.

He lifts the bottle of peet brown liquid to his lips and drinks deeply. When he lowers it to his thigh again, he rolls his head to look at me. I swallow hard. I can't read his expression. I don't let myself look away though. He lifts the bottle again, gesturing to himself.

"You've checked on me. I'm perfectly fine as you can see." He lets out a sigh and returns his gaze to the ceiling of the helicopter.

I move closer, refusing to accept his dismissal. With more courage than I knew I had, I ask, "Are you going to share?"

Bones looks at me again, like he's trying to determine if I'm serious or not. Finally he holds the bottle out to me. Taking it with care, I brace myself as I raise it to my lips. Bones' gaze on me is heated, like I'm a force he can't look away from. It gives me the strength to tip the bottle up and take a gulp of the liquor. I rip the bottle away, coughing at the harsh burn of the whiskey and shove the bottle back at him. To his amusement, if his laughter means anything.

"That's vile. How do you drink it?"

"Practice," he says, making a point to take another drink while holding my gaze. When he lowers the bottle, my eyes stay on his tattoed black and white lips. If I touch them, would they feel different because of their intimidating appearance? An agonized groan breaks my stare and I blush, knowing I've been caught. "Don't look at me like that, Sloan."

I take a step closer to him. I'm playing with fire but I want to feel the burn more than anything else right now.

Bones growls again, sitting up and twisting in one move until he's sitting on the edge of the copter with both legs hanging out, the whiskey set beside him on the metal floor. "Like you want me. It's hard enough with you wearing that dress."

I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze this close. The heat in his eyes mirror the liquid heat pooling between my legs. His nostrils flare, and my nipples harden at the knowledge that he can smell my arousal. I take another step forward, ignoring his warning growl. He's all bark because when I take the last step forward, he widens his legs enough for me to fit between them. I watch him as he grasps the whiskey and takes another long pull before setting it back down.

"I'm trying to do the right thing here," he tells me. "You don't know what you want. Fuck, you haven't had any independence for half of your life. Getting tangled up with me is the worst thing for you. I can't give you what you need. What you deserve."

I bring my hands to rest on his thighs, tilting my head to the side. "I might not know everything I want, but I know that I want you to kiss me."

"Sloan." My name is a thunderous challenge.

"Bones."

We're at a stalemate, our gazes locked on one another. There's no one in the garage to interrupt this, to interrupt us. Bones won't bend, even though there's no mistaking the bulge in his jeans and the desire in his eyes.

"One kiss," I whisper, almost like a plea. "Just one kiss, so I can stop wondering what it would be like. Please."

Bones is tense beneath my touch, his gaze so hard that I wonder if he'll just send me away. Then he's bending towards me, scooping me up towards him with an arm around my back as he hauls me towards him. "Just this once, dammit," he curses before our mouths collide.