Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(35)

My hair was cascading down my back, a tumble of curls. The ends were freshly died, electric blue this time. That was about the only part of me that had semblance of order. My foundation had washed off and I was starting to worry that the purple under my eyes was permanent. The black cardigan I was wearing over my short lace dress covered my skinny, blotchy arms, but my collarbone was still visible and protruding. “Still a mess,” I muttered to myself.

I splashed water on my face and reached into my handbag to rinse my mouth with mouthwash and spray some perfume. My bag was always stocked with emergencies supplies, though it was missing one thing. The thing I craved with an intensity that had my entire body shaking.

I braced myself on the cracked porcelain sink. It was insane, the itch. The need was nothing more than annoying background noise the entire time I’d been in the car with Lucky, but now I was drowning in it again as it filled my entire body with its power. I had decided to slip out the back and hitchhike back home not seconds before, but now I wasn’t so sure. Whatever the f*ck was going on with Lucky wasn’t good, for me and, more importantly, for him. But I was selfish. Desperate not to fall down that rabbit hole that didn’t lead to Wonderland. So I made my decision.



“I didn’t know what to get, so I just got one of every flavor,” Lucky declared, handing me a bag overflowing with feminine products.

I took it from him, expressionless. I glanced down; the bag was actually filled with every ‘flavor’ of tampons gas stations offered. I saw the telltale Twinkie wrapper along with about four different kinds of chocolate. My gaze went back up to Lucky, who was munching on a burrito. He held out an ice tea. I took it wordlessly.

He nodded to the bag. “I got chocolate too, ’cause I know when bitches get on the rag they need that shit. I don’t know why. That, along with women’s bathroom treasures, will remain a mystery to me, but I thought it would be safest to get you some too.”

I didn’t have a response to that, namely because it was so f*cking... domestic. He was acting like this was something we did every month. Like he hadn’t just handcuffed me to a truck after finding out about my drug addiction and subsequent overdose. It was so f*cking normal and it scared the shit out of me.

His eyes flickered over me, losing the easiness to them. “You didn’t run,” he observed.

I swallowed. “I’m not wearing the right shoes,” I lied. My combat boots would do quite well for running, and for fighting and kicking. One of the reasons I’d worn them since I’d scraped up enough cash to get them at thirteen.

But I didn’t want to run. I was so f*cking tired of running from everything.

Lucky nodded. “Yet another reason for me to thank the creator of those things.” He nodded to my boots. “Not only are they hot as f*ck but they keep you right where I want you. Perfect.”

As he reversed out of the lot, I had an overwhelming urge to lick the sinewy, tattooed flesh that was inches away from my face.

Instead, I ripped open a chocolate at random, shoving it into my mouth so I didn’t do anything stupider than I already had. The stupidity being staying in the truck without a fight.

“Got to say, firefly, I’m glad I don’t have to use the cuffs,” Lucky said as he pulled back onto the freeway. His gaze flickered sideways for a second, hunger in it. “Well, I’m not ruling out using them completely, but for that particular use, I’m glad.”

I crossed my arms, namely to cover up the way my nipples hardened through the thin fabric of my dress at the pure sex in his tone. Don’t ask me how the guy could be dorky, yet funny, yet dangerous and sexy as f*ck all at the same time. It shouldn’t be humanly possible, but there he was, living, breathing, testosterone-emitting proof.

“Where are we going, anyway? Now that I’m not being held prisoner, I should be able to know the destination. I won’t be writing it in lipstick on bathroom mirrors anymore. The last message I wrote only had the license plate number on it. They’re not easy to trace, right?” I asked sweetly.

Lucky chuckled, and the sound sent bolts of electricity though my body.

Get it together.

“I thought my brothers had snapped up the women with the smartest mouths in all of America, Brock especially.” He glanced to me. “I was f*ckin’ wrong. I’ve hit the goddamn jackpot.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You haven’t hit anything. And you won’t be. I’m not someone you’ve ‘snapped up.’ I’m someone you forcibly brought into your presence, using handcuffs.”

Lucky shrugged. “There’s only so long you can be in my presence and not fall in love with me.”

I snorted. “Don’t hold your breath.”

My bravado hid my fear. My absolute terror that his words were a premonition.



“Becky, we’re here.”

A soft and pleasing sensation on my jaw accompanied the rough voice puncturing my unconsciousness and I clung to it, just a little longer. Oblivion had been a stranger to me since I had become too close with unyielding darkness. Sleep wasn’t something that came easy when your entire body was electrified with need, with desperation to meet that oblivion once more.

I snuggled deeper into the slumber.

That time the pressure was not soft, and it was on my shoulder. My body shook slightly. “Becky?” The voice was louder, concerned. “Wake up.”