The Wrath of Cain(7)
All the men are wearing black leather vests, which are adorned with a motorcycle on the back and the saying ‘Live Fast-Ride Hard’ along with the club name ‘Sinners of Revolution.’ Some of them have arms draped around women who are dressed normally, like me, but a few of the women hardly have clothes on at all. Here and there I see females also wearing the club vest.
My feet stay deeply rooted to this spot. No one is even giving me the time of day; they’re all in a circle in the middle of the room in what seems to be some sort of meeting. I’m observing them all, and whatever the topic is, they clearly don’t like it. The veins in the men’s necks are bulging, and many hands are clenching into fists.
And then I see him, my darling husband, in the center of it all. His arm is dangling around the neck of the slut whose face I will never forget. She’s f*cking beautiful. Her long, blonde hair flows in waves around the flawlessly made up porcelain skin of her face. She’s the only one not paying any attention to what Cain is saying. Instead, her head tilts to the side, recognition of who I am written across her face. I watch her intently as she snakes her arm around his waist, showing me she is staking her claim. I lift a brow, grinning back. You don’t have a damn thing to worry about, sweetheart. The cheater is all yours.
I glance back at Cain. The pictures on the internet do him no justice at all; he’s still f*cking sexy. If he were a stranger, I believe I would drop my eyes right down to his package and forget my own damn name.
He makes eye contact with each member of the circle as he continues to talk, his voice too low for me to comprehend exactly what he is saying. I take a tiny step forward and the movement attracts his attention.
Suddenly, his gaze snaps to me, his arm dropping from around his slut as his eyes search my face almost as if he is trying to figure out if it is really me. And then his deep blue eyes travel to that magical spot on my neck where he knows I used to love being kissed by him.
A groan threatens to escape me when deeply buried memories resurface of the way his warm mouth would linger there. My nipples harden and my core aches from just this one look, but I refuse to let my own eyes roam his cut physique, afraid they will betray me like my body is doing now.
I stand there like a wallflower, watching him closely as he continues his personal tour, lingering on my breasts before heading south. His eyes darken when they land on my legs, made even longer by my stilettos.
The room suddenly falls quiet, heads turning on a dime to see what the man in charge is staring at. Hushed whispers start to echo from the onlookers.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” several women ask.
No one answers. Cain moves toward me and the group splits apart as if he was a damned god, leaving the two of us openly scrutinizing each other as he stalks my way, anger and disapproval pouring off of him.
Under normal circumstances, the vibes radiating off of him might make a person uncomfortable, but I’m not moved in any way, shape, or form by the displeasure seeping out of him. He’s used to making people feel that way. I can sense it. He’s no longer a boy, but when I look at him, really look, I can see traces of his younger self behind those cold eyes.
He approaches me, coming to a stop within my reach. My instincts kick in. I’m here for one reason only, and I won’t kowtow to him. What I want to do is reach out and slap his pretty-boy face.
No words are spoken for several long, drawn-out minutes until the high-pitched voice of his Goldilocks bitch sounds out from behind him.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses snidely.
“Shut the f*ck up, Emerald.”
The sound of Cain’s voice startles me, so deep and masculine, very different from the young man I knew before.
“Everyone clear the hell out of here!” he orders.
Like devoted cult members, they do exactly what they are told by their leader. Each man passing him slaps him on his shoulder, while each woman looks at me with malevolence as if I have come here to stake a claim on what they all believe is theirs. I roll my eyes at a few of them, telling them silently to go f*ck themselves.
“That means you, too,” he barks at Emerald.
“Hell, no! I’m not leaving you alone with her.”
Her honeyed words have me spitting out a low laugh.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I say condescendingly. “He’s all yours. I just need a few minutes of his time and you can carry on with whatever it is your slutty little self normally does.”
I gesture with my hands for her to leave. She scrunches up her nose, aiming her pointer finger at my chest.
“You bitch! How dare you come in here with your fancy clothes and expensive shoes and call me names? You know nothing about me or what it is I do!”
I’m a little too quick for her. Taking hold of her by the wrist, I twist her around, pulling her arm up behind her.
“Listen here, babe... I know all I want to know about you. I could smell your nasty, used up snatch from over there. Now I need a few minutes with your f*ck buddy here and then the two of you can go back to doing whatever the f*ck you want, but until then, you will give me the time.”
I release her arm and give her a little extra shove.
“Just go, Emerald. I’m curious as to what my wife has to say.”
“Fine!”
She storms past us, slamming the door behind herself. All of a sudden I am freaking the hell out on the inside now that Cain and I are entirely alone. One of us has to break the silence in this eerily quiet room. Cain’s cold, narrowed eyes have me sucking in a sharp breath. He’s looking at me as if he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss me or hurt me.