Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)(28)
I didn’t know what I had been expecting from Lexie’s band, but they were not it. They looked like delinquents, even though Noah definitely had a future in the male modeling industry. But I found they were polite and surprisingly articulate for teenage boys. I liked them.
I snatched a plate from Sam as the others moved to help clean up. “I’ll do this—you guys go off and make sweet, sweet music.” I pointed a finger at them. “Though if you suck, I do reserve the right to revoke garage privileges.”
“Mom,” Lexie warned.
I glanced at her. “I’m sure you won’t suck, honey, but I just need to cover my bases,” I told her. “Now go.” I shooed them with my hands.
The boys all grinned at me, and Wyatt met my eyes. “You’re seriously cool, Mia,” he stated.
They disappeared out the door and out into the garage. I busied myself with cleaning up pizza dishes and the like. I heard once they started playing that they did not suck. Of course, I knew they wouldn’t. I was also glad that our closest neighbor was MIA and the sound was not likely to reach the ones on the other side of the house.
I tossed and turned in bed, sleep eluding me. This was due to a number of reasons. Lexie’s soulful rendition of a beautiful song and the memories it dredged up, plus the slight concern I had for her being in a band full of hotties. Not that I didn’t trust her. I did. But I was a mom. I worried. It was a job requirement. Plus, I may trust her, but three teenage boys? Not a chance in Hell. I was glad I would be able to keep a watchful eye over them until they gained that trust. The biggest thing that had me yet to meet the sandman was the rumble of Harley pipes I kept hearing. Not outside, but in my head. They had sounded just as I was shutting down the house for the night, and I had peered out my window to see Zane pulling up his driveway. I had quickly darted my head back into the safety of the house so he wouldn’t catch me peeping. But I had gone to bed with a sick feeling in my stomach knowing he was across the road.
It had only intensified when I lay down, all of the thoughts I had locked away thundering into my mind once I had turned off the light.
The shame I had felt when he had cruelly kicked me out. The cold glint in his eyes. Then the hot flame I felt with his touch. The sex that was the best I had ever had. That look, right after, before his eyes had shuttered over. That look that could almost be described as tender had it not been on such a hard face. It was something more than simple tenderness; it was tortured tenderness. Something had stirred in his eyes, something that had struck a chord within me because I had demons of my own, residing in the dark corners of my mind. That’s why that hurt all the more when he dismissed me, caused me to feel shame.
That shame was quickly replaced by anger. No, by fury. How could he act like I was the reincarnation of Hitler’s wife for days, and then out of the blue, f*ck me against the wall of his house? Fuck me with an urgent passion, which made me shiver just thinking about it. Then cast me aside like some...whore.
On that thought I saw red. I threw back the blankets and shoved my arms into an old flannel shirt. I didn’t even think about footwear, anger transcending common sense.
My rage did not dissipate as I unlocked the doors and stomped across the street. It did not dull even as my bare feet touched the cobbled stones of his walkway. It stayed with me as I pounded loudly on his front door. I kept pounding until a light was switched on.
The door opened and Zane seemed to jerk in surprise to see me in it. Luckily, he was fully clothed this time. How it was he answered the door fully clothed in the middle of the night and half naked in broad daylight I had no idea. I barely registered that he was holding a gun at his side, which normally would have been a big f*cking deal.
“You are a dick,” I spat at him. Manners be gone. Obviously reason was long gone also, considering I was insulting an armed man. “You cannot treat me,” I paused, “no, strike that…you cannot treat any woman the way you treated me,” I hissed. “You don’t like me for some unknown reason. Fine. Your loss. But I’ll have you know most people like me. I’m likable. I’m nice. But you don’t think so? Whatever—that’s your prerogative.” I pointed at him again. “If you don’t like me, send all the death glares you like. I’ll learn to get used to them.” Total lie, but I was on a roll. “Speak to me in grunts…actually, don’t speak to me at all. I’m not bothered.” Another lie. “But, do not, after doing all of these things, drag me into your house, have sex with me,” I stopped, breathing heavily before continuing, “and treat me like a whore.” I hissed at him again. “Who do you think you are? Do you think some air of menace, the vest you wear and some good bone structure gives you the excuse to--”
I didn’t get the chance to finish my rant because of the hand that fastened around my neck and yanked me against a hard body. Before I knew it Zane’s mouth was plastered to mine. And, because he had caught me mid-sentence, his tongue had prime access to mine. He managed to get me inside and slam the door behind me without his mouth leaving mine. With the slam of the door though, came the surging of coherent thought.
I pushed back against him violently, and although I think my strength was nothing to match his, he let me go. I lifted my hand and slapped his cheek, my palm stinging at the impact.
We stared at each other, breathing heavily.