Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(50)
He stared at me. And stared. It started to get unnerving, but hell if I was going to be the one to speak first.
He finally stepped forward and grasped my hips tightly before I could scuttle away. I may have been gaining weight and muscle thanks to movie nights with Rosie and my last few practices with the pole, but I was no match for him.
“You think I want to change you?” he murmured. He brought his hand up to brush my newly dip-died purple ends. “You can’t change a wild thing. You try, you get yourself damned for trying to alter something so chaotically beautiful it hurts to look at. So you may drive me to f*ckin’ drink, baby, but I’m not looking for eternal damnation. I’ve done plenty of things that might damn my soul, but this won’t be one of them.”
I lost my breath, my argument, my fricking sense at his words. He took advantage and closed the distance between us to savagely claim my mouth.
I was afraid he had already claimed everything else.
He pulled back when I was seriously about to climb him like a tree, right there in the middle of the club.
His eyes were liquid gold. “I don’t accept this.” His gaze flickered around the actually well-decorated and classy strip club. “This is not where you belong.” His eyes moved down my body, taking in my barely clad body. “And no one’s eyes but f*ckin’ mine belong on that body. It makes my blood boil thinking of that.” He yanked me to him. “But as long as I’m the only one f*ckin’ you till you can’t see or remember your own name, I’ll deal.”
Fury mingled with melancholy at his words. And temptation. Something I craved but couldn’t have. He needed to know that. So I didn’t struggle, glancing up to meet his eyes. “I can’t reconcile what I am with what you want me to be. I want to be her, the woman you think I am, but I’m not. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can both exit this delusion and get on with our lives.”
I let myself have one more moment in his arms before stepping back.
He glared at me. “I don’t want you to be anyone but who you are.”
“Really?” I scoffed. “Look around.” I held my hands out to the stage, the pole. “Look at me.” I gestured down to my bra and panties set. “Is this what you want from your ‘old lady’?” I asked honestly.
His gaze set me on fire. “Yes. It’s exactly what I f*ckin’ want.”
Then he pressed his mouth to mine once more before letting me go, turning on his heel and leaving me standing there, all hot and bothered and wondering what the f*ck just happened.
Two months later
What had happened on that Monday afternoon two months back was Gabriel claiming me. Or trying to.
What happened over the next two months was me fighting tooth and nail against that claiming.
I was barely my own, still finding out who sober Bex was, what she wanted from life.
I think that’s why he didn’t go full alpha. Why he only looked like he would kill every man in the audience every time I worked. And he was there almost every time. I tried my best to ignore him, to act like I wasn’t dancing for him, but he was like a magnet.
Nothing could change that.
Since I couldn’t change the laws of attraction, I controlled what I could. I made sure we didn’t do any couple shit like eat meals other than breakfast and midnight snacks together. Not that breakfast was a meal we normally had together, despite how good his pancakes were and how much Rosie loved them.
No, I set the parameters, which he begrudgingly accepted. Another surprise, which I called him on one night while mellow and sated.
I was tracing the rider on his back as he lay on his stomach. It was a tattoo all the men in the club had, spanning from shoulder to hip. The club insignia, a grim reaper riding a bike on a road of skulls. But his was different, the insignia was shrouded in angel wings that came from the top of his neck, almost protecting the rider. On closer inspection, I saw three names etched into the wings.
Sofia. Camila. Alexis.
“I’m surprised,” I said, trailing my nails down the inked feathers, swallowing my tears at the names on his back.
“That I’m mortal, despite what I can do in the bedroom?” he answered, his voice muffled by the pillow.
I grinned because he couldn’t see my face. “That you’re not fighting for control.”
He rolled around so he pressed me to the mattress in one swift move. My breathing quickened, despite the fact he’d only just finished rocking my world. “In case you didn’t notice, I’ve got control,” he rasped, focusing on the headboard he’d only just uncuffed me from.
Yes, uncuffed me. I’d gone willingly into captivity. Anyone would if they experienced the nirvana of Gabriel’s body ravaging theirs.
“In here,” I agreed, my voice less than a whisper. “But not out there.” I nodded to the door.
His eyes didn’t leave my face. “No one has control out there. I control the things I can, and the things I can’t, I protect.”
I swallowed at his words and managed to find my own. “So you don’t itch to give me a property patch, and it doesn’t piss you off that you can’t make me your little old lady?”
His face hardened, just a smidgeon. “We don’t have property patches, firefly. If we did, you reckon anything would get Gwen to wear one? That bitch takes what she puts on her back seriously. I don’t even think my prez could get a patch on her. Not that he would,” he said, a teasing glint to his eyes. “I also take what I put on my back f*ckin’ seriously. Before I put on this leather, my life was f*cked. Spiraling, full of demons. So I know the value of the club, what it means to me. What it gave me.” His hand circled my neck. “Since I know the value of where I belong, I know how f*ckin’ hard it is to belong to someone. Something. You’re just figuring out how to belong to yourself. I’m willin’ to wait however long it takes for you to figure out you belong to me too. I’m willin’ to accept whatever you can give me, and this.” His hand snaked down my torso, stopping for delightful torture on my nipple and then moving lower. Way lower.