I had been hanging around the club a lot lately. There was always some sort of gathering, barbecue or dinner that Lexie and I were invited to. Now that I was Zane’s “Old Lady”, I was part of the crew. Not that he acted like Cade and Brock did around their women. He barely touched me when we were at these events, merely watched me from a distance with his eyes burning. Now and then, he’d surprise me when I was walking from the bathroom or to freshen my drink, pressing me up against a wall, a tree, or an abandoned car for a steamy make out session. Then he’d abruptly walk away, leaving me all hot and bothered and confused. I was getting a little hurt by this behavior and would have seriously thought he didn’t feel the same way for me as I did about him, if it wasn’t for the nights. The nights when he would consume my mind, body, and soul with ruthless and beautiful fucking. He then would clutch me tight to his body all night, leaving me sated and exhausted to pass out in the warmth of his arms. He would normally wake me up with his mouth or his dick; either way it wasn’t a bad way to start the day.
The odd morning he’d have breakfast with Lexie and I, cooking for us and ruffling Lexie’s head affectionately. He didn’t say much, mostly just observed and let us bask in the warm glow of his presence. Lexie didn’t blink at this. In fact, she loved it. She and Zane seemed to have a special sort of connection. They played guitar together when he got home, her voice carrying over their soft strums. Despite this, he seemed to be holding back, keeping secrets. There was still trouble behind his eyes, fury that would appear at the strangest of moments, then simmer down behind his blank mask. Then there was something else. Pain. Pain beyond anything I’d ever seen behind anyone’s eyes. It would appear sometimes after he was done fucking me, still inside me, watching me. Or when he was playing with strands of my hair, holding it and staring at it so hard I wondered what could possibly be working in his mind.
I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like I wasn’t keeping secrets either. Mine were buried deep, like his. And like I suspected his were, mine would always be there, tearing at the pieces of my broken soul.
“Mia.” A deep voice shocked me out of my inner turmoil. Lucky as well. Dark corners of my mind were not places to linger in. I turned from the kitchen window I had blankly been staring out.
Zane was leaning against the doorway, looking delectable and dangerous in his usual all black. His cut, like always, was over top of his black Henley. His eyes were narrowed at me, searching. “There a reason the little fucks in there,” he jerked his head toward the living room, “were hounding me ‘bout my favorite fuckin’ song?” he clipped with irritation.
I couldn’t help it. The image of excited teenage boys—albeit trying to play it cool—asking Zane, of all people, his favorite song made me burst out laughing. Like throw my head back, cackle type laugh. I felt Zane’s arms at my waist and he was watching me as I giggled, moving into his hold. His eyebrow rose in question as to what I could find so funny.
“I could imagine you told them your favorite music was that of your Harley pipes singing from underneath you,” I giggled, wondering if Zane even liked music. My thoughts rested on the slow soulful songs he played with Lexie every now and then.
His hands tightened at my waist. “Only sound I like from underneath me is you screaming when I make you come, Wildcat,” he growled in my ear. His tone and the tickle of his beard at my cheek made my downstairs tingle.
I pulled back slightly. “You can’t do that,” I chastised. “Make me all...tingly when there’re minors in the other room,” I whispered. “Minors whom you cannot call little fucks,” I told him firmly.
“They’re in a band with Lexie. She’s a knockout who’s funny as fuck, and they’re teenage boys. Therefore, they are little fucks,” he half growled.
I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure Noah was gay, and I knew that Lexie knew that also. None of the other boys did, nor did his macho father. So that was something I wouldn’t tell Zane. The other two had oodles of girlfriends coming and going. Plus there was the small matter of Lexie’s own mini alpha boyfriend. Though not so mini physically. “Have you forgotten Killian?” I asked sweetly. “He would pummel any of those guys if they even look at his girl the wrong way,” I told him. “Plus, let’s not forget you glare at them within an inch of their lives whenever you cross their paths,” I teased. I was actually impressed with the courage of the boys, still being in a band with Lexie while they got death stares from not one but two(ish) scary macho guys.
“Killian,” Zane muttered into my neck. “Biggest fuck of all.”
To say things were tense between the two of them was an understatement. I was surprised Zane didn’t sit on our porch in a rocking chair with a shotgun over his lap every time Killian came over. Which was a lot. Almost two months was a long time in teenage relationship years, and Killian and Lexie were going strong. I couldn’t say I liked it, but I had to admit I grudgingly liked Killian and the way he treated my kid. With respect. Like she hung the freaking moon. Plus, he had her home by or before curfew every night and drove her to and from school. My only worry was how intense it was for two kids so young.
“You’ve yet to settle down on the whole ‘I’m gonna kill you’ thing you’ve got with Killian,” I told him. “It’s not going to change anything.”
Zane gave me a hard look.
“Okay,” I said cheerfully. “Next subject. The boys were asking your favorite music because the band is playing at Gwen and Cade’s shindig next week,” I informed him, hoping to move away from dangerous topics.