Page 22 of Take

WE RODE UNTIL DUSK, ONLY stopping twice for washroom breaks and a snack. I never said anything and neither did he. I kept my hands off him while we rode and he kept his speed reasonable.

He turned down a long, narrow driveway and then cut the engine in front of a cute Spanish-style house with a wraparound porch. I slid off and briefly looked around, noticing the beautiful red carnations and bluebells at the side of the house.

My pulse slowly rose as I admired them. Wildflowers had a fragile beauty about them with incredible resilience to withstand the test of nature. Their stems swaying and bending to the harsh winds and rain, yet if they were strong enough, they’d stand tall again when the sun’s rays shone down on them.

And yet . . .

When people easily snipped their stems, each day the flower’s life slowly faded.

That was what had been done to me when Drake took me. Cut from my stem—my home. Taken from my element, and each day I dried up until I had nothing left.

A stem of who I’d once been. Who I was supposed to grow into.

Xamien may have saved the shell of me, but I’d never be the same. And now Jasper . . . he was the violent storm, trying to unearth me and I was holding on with both hands and fighting back. I couldn’t let go. I had to stay hidden for my own survival as well as for the safety of others. Already I’d lost my mother and Talde because of who I was.

My breath hitched as his hands settled on my hips, his chest up against my back.

My pulse spiked.

I clamped my teeth. Pursed my lips. I went to elbow him in the gut when his hands tightened and his low voice drizzled into my ear like a distant muffled roar of thunder. “Be nice, sunshine.”

Oh, he had no idea how nice I’d been to him.

I heard the bang of a screen door and looked up at the house. A woman, who looked to be about thirty, stopped on the top step of the porch, and then shielded her eyes with her hand. A brilliant smile surfaced and a dignified squeal, if you could call any squeal dignified, but this woman managed it somehow.

“Mon cheri.” And she was French—great. “You should’ve told me you were coming.” She walked . . . no strolled toward us, hips swaying rhythmically side-to-side like a pendulum—a voluptuous pendulum.

Jasper shifted closer and his cock pressed against my lower back—his hard cock. And instead of thinking what the fuck was he doing with a hard cock, I was thinking if his hard cock was because of me or her?

He whispered, “Play along, please. She’s human and knows nothing about the Scars.”

I hated playing along. That was why I kept to myself. “Why are we here?” We’d passed a nice bed and breakfast fifteen minutes ago.

“Because her coffee rocks.”

I was pretty sure Jasper thought her coffee rocked because the French woman had rocked something else beforehand. And I was pretty sure if the woman served him mud after sex, he would’ve thought it tasted good.

He stepped away from me and for a brief second, I wanted him back. I wanted it to be me who rocked. I crossed my arms, my back stiff as I stood watching the scene unfold.

The woman with the chic shoulder-length blonde hair with a few streaks of subtle red interwoven, bit her lower lip then slowly let it slide from between her teeth. She certainly wasn’t paying attention to me. I could flap my arms and dance around like a chicken and the woman wouldn’t have noticed. Her eyes were on Jasper as he walked toward her.

She fell against him, long spider-like arms wrapping around his neck, painted pink nails disappearing into his hair. She dragged his head down . . . dragged was the wrong word as Jasper didn’t look like he was being dragged anywhere he didn’t want to go. And then she kissed him.

Jasper had both his hands on her waist and an odd pain clutched at my chest as I looked away.

But it was like trying to not look at a car wreck and I glanced up again just as they broke apart. The woman whispered to him and I heard him chuckle quietly. I think the woman might have completely ignored me if Jasper hadn’t turned to me and then said something to her which made her look over at me and laugh. It was a high-pitched shrill that sounded like an off-tuned cello.

I was good at acting impassive. That was how I’d survived living with Drake for so long. So, when Jasper and lip biter turned to me, I held my chin high and met them head on.

“Max. Julianna has offered us dinner and a place to crash for the night. She also has some disinfectant to put on that scratch of yours.”

Fucking lovely.

Julianna ran a finger down his cheek to his chin then lower to trail a path down his chest. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away, and then said something to her. She glanced over at me and glared. Jasper leaned toward her again and said something else and she smiled, her white teeth sparkling against her blood red lips.

She slid her hand down his tatted arm until her fingers linked with his and then turned, heading back inside with Jasper in tow. I crouched beside the bike and started unhooking the bag.

“I’ll get it later. Get in here, Max. We need to re-bandage that wound,” Jasper called over his shoulder. Then the screen door clanged shut behind them.

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