Parking across the lot from the bikes that sit near the main entrance, I slide up next to Chel’s coupe and climb out. It’s still chilly as hell out here, and I’m not wearing a whole lot of clothing. Walking into the Forsaken clubhouse dressed like I’m ready to party is all any of the guys need to take advantage of my presence. And I’m really not up to party right now. It’s mid-afternoon and already I’m worn the hell out.
I cross the lot and open the heavy front door to find myself greeted by the sight of half the club sitting around on various pieces of furniture, drinking bottles of beer. Short windows line the uppermost part of the wall that curves into the exposed beam ceiling of the main room, streaming the only light into the room. Duke sits at a small round table in the center of the room. He turns just slightly and lifts his beer to his lips. Without looking away, he gulps down the remaining contents of the bottle then slaps it down on the table top. Across from him is Ryan, the club’s road captain. No clue how he earned that position since, last I checked, the boy couldn’t find his dick out of his own ass half the time. But I could be biased.
“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Duke says with a smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes, and sarcasm coats every word.
“Quit being an asshole,” I snap, temporarily forgetting who all’s in the room. Low chuckles sound from around me, egging me on. I place a hand on my hip and jut my chin out. The boys live for this kind of drama in a way the chicks never have. And they have the nerve to say we’re the nosy ones.
“You wanted me here, I’m here.”
“It’s about fucking time you do as you’re told,” he says, standing from his seat. My muscles tense immediately as my temper snaps.
“You’re kidding, right? You disappear for almost two months and now you’re giving me shit when I did nothing wrong?”
“I’ve been here, Nicole,” he says in a deep rumble as he takes several large steps toward me. He stops a few feet in front of me. “I was gone for barely a week, that’s it.” Such bullshit. Just because I haven’t stepped foot on Forsaken property doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on with the club. Chel’s kept me updated. Despite the few overnight runs he’s made to Nevada, Duke’s been here, and I’ve been sitting at home like a moron waiting for his ass. No more.
“And when you got back, where the hell have you been since? You sure as hell haven’t been looking for me. How dare you come to my job and start throwing your dick around like I owe you something after you ignored me for almost two months!” My voice raises with every word, to the point that I’m screaming. I can feel myself unraveling at the seams. Every breath comes out more ragged than the last, and the heat from his body, so close and muscular, isn’t helping any. His nearness is sending my hysteria in a whole new direction.
We’re putting on a real show, entertaining most of our audience members, who respond with smiles and laughs. If I were anybody else, or even if I was screaming at anybody else, they wouldn’t be laughing. Lost Girls are the bottom of the totem pole around here and are not to be smarting off to the club. I almost wish they’d punish me for this—maybe even ban me—but they won’t. If they were going to do that, they wouldn’t be finding so much amusement in my freak-out. I’m not that lucky. I’m just glad they’re getting a kick out of this, because I’m sure not. The guys disappear all of the time, and it’s never pissed me off before. I was always just a Lost Girl, and they were the club, and that was cool. We had fun, but Duke claimed me. I played my part, and he hasn’t played his.
“You don’t know shit about shit, woman. You ain’t been around,” he says, closing the distance between us. I hold firm, refusing to cave under the intimidation of his size. Craning my neck, I stare up at him and try not to be distracted by his distinct smell. It’s not his leather or his soap. It’s in his skin and bones and everything that makes Duke who he is. Leaning down, he says coldly, “You got something else to say?”
“Yeah, actually I do,” I say in a huff. “We got rules for a reason. You had your finger in my pussy, and you claimed me. You know the rules because your club makes the rules, so how dare you get on my ass for not being around the club when I was staying away like I’m supposed to!”
“Anything else?” he snaps, his eyes all kinds of wild. I fight the urge to reach up and slap him. Slapping Duke might not get me banned, but it will get me in the kind of trouble I don’t want.