Page 12 of Kneeling to Candy

“He called himself Cú Sidhe.”

“Come again? Is that Gaelic?”

“No idea.” I sniffle. “I once overheard Lorenzo complaining to Luca the Irish hound was becoming too comfortable in his presence and needed to be watched. That’s all I know.”

Recalling the past—specifically Cú Sidhe—is too much. The dam breaks, and my tears run free. I bury my face in my hands as the first of my cries wrack my body. Anything to keep Butch from seeing me crumble apart.

Biker boy pulls me down to his level, rearranging us so I’m straddling his lap. He ropes his arms around me, letting me cry into the crevice between his neck and shoulder. He softly shushes me as he rocks us.

“Hear me when I say there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you, Candy,” Butch declares, an edge to his already jagged voice. “You may be the soldier, but I’m your sword and shield. Whatever you order, I will carry out.”

Years of anguish slowly rise to the surface as I recall all the vile acts committed against me.

The forced submission. The humiliation. The pain.

My past can’t stay buried any longer—the ground must be tilled before I can grow.

“I want them dead,” I croak as a harsh sob bubbles past my lips. “I want those who violated me dead. I want it to hurt as much as they hurt me.”

Butch is silent for a moment before asking, “Is that an order?”

A what? Oh! Does he mean what I think he means?

Wiping away my tears, I pull away from Butch’s shoulder to read his face. I need to see if he’s being serious or horrified with me wishing harm on the men who harmed me.

There’s neither fear nor disgust in his expression. Butch stares back at me expectantly, patiently waiting for my reply.

Here is a man offering to rid the world of the men who violated me in the most evil ways, to give me the inner peace I desperately seek. All I have to do is ask.

No, not ask—command.

Another minute passes with me carefully weighing the consequences of what I’m about to do. The men in this MC aren’t big lugs, full of empty promises and bullshit. They’re oath takers and men of action. If I wave the green flag, Butch will put my wish into motion.

Should it scare me if I have no empathy for what’s about to come for the dirty bastards who haunt my memories? Maybe, but I don’t care.

My decision made, I straighten my spine. “Butch?”

My biker’s hazel eyes sparkle in the dim light of the closet. “Yes?”

“End them.”

His lips curl into a mischievous smirk on his striking face, making him look like some archangel ready to rain hellfire on my enemies.

“As you command, my goddess.”

CHAPTER FOUR

BUTCH

It’s been a week since I extended my offer to Candy to use my space as her own. She has yet to accept my invitation, meaning I’m still at stage one of claiming my wild woman.

As frustrated as I am with the lack of acceptance on Candy’s part, it’s not unexpected. I didn’t woo her with romantic poems or lavish gifts, like a lovesick simp. I literally stalked her into her secret hiding space, submitted on my knees, and vowed to give her vengeance on her enemies.

Most women would run away screaming if a man came swooping into their private bubble, confessed to spying on them, and offered to off someone on their behalf. Totally acceptable response.

When Candy reacted with intrigue instead of fright, my spirit soared. I assumed I went up a rung on the ladder to her heart.

No such luck. But she didn’t run, meaning there’s hope. And it’s that hope I’m hanging on to for dear life.

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