Page 4 of Seizing Control: Part Two

Heart in my throat, I mumble, “Yes.”

“You know I respect you and I’d never hurt you?”

I give a sharp nod. “Yes.”

Shaking besets my body as I suspect that his next words will break what’s left of my heart. I’ve been trying to avoid this outcome since I was discharged a few months ago and agreed to move in with him instead of the house my twin brother had purchased. My determination to evade a breakup is one of the reason that I cut. Logically I know that I can’t bleed Alex out of me, but I’m not rational when I’m driven to purge the filth that makes my skin crawl.

I don’t want to lose Zeke.

I love him.

I’m in love with him.

Yet I’m cognisant that without sex, we are no more than housemates who sometimes kiss.

If I can’t get my head on straight, I’ll be better off living with Slash—at least, we share the same taste in books, television shows, and movies. Even moving in with Nadia would be a preferred option to the half-life I’m offering Zeke right now. He has stuck with me through thick and thin. More than twelve months of heartache and the occasional moment of happiness. I’ve managed to bluff my way through the physical aspect of our relationship with sporadic hand jobs and a solitary BJ. He can touch me, hug me, kiss me. I am receptive to his affection, even though I rarely feel the urge to initiate anything more than a quick cuddle. My freakouts whenever Zeke accidentally startles me are lessening, however they’re still more frequent than they should be.

We have had sex once since we declared our love.

At my eighteenth birthday party.

Mere hours before Alex hurt me.

I’ve been pushing a boulder uphill in a desperate attempt to keep Zeke from leaving me.

But it appears that I’ve failed...

“I think you need me take control... to force your submission.”

Blinking twice, I push upright. “What?”

With a serious expression etched in his features, Zeke perches on the end of the bed. I fight not to stiffen when he places his hand on my calf. He looks three decades older than his twenty-six years as he wearily regards me. The eyes examining my face are filled with contradictory emotions. It’s a strange mix. Worry and hunger. Apprehension and need. Concern and yearning. The emotions he’s feeling match the ones I had when I walked in on Slash and didn’t immediately meltdown.

“I’ve been readin’,” Zeke offers slowly. The rigid set of his shoulder makes me frown. When it hits me that he expects me to react mockingly to his confession that he’s been reading, I shuffle onto my knees and crawl over to him. As I cup the side of his face, he covers my hand with his and leans into my palm. “Some women who’ve been raped—” His throat works as if the accurate descriptor of what Alex did me left a bitter taste in his mouth. “—need to have the choice to have sex taken away from them... it gives them leeway to enjoy somethin’ that they feel like they should hate.”

“Do you think...”

“I do.” He smiles. It’s a wistful sight, filled with adoration that’s tinged with fear. “It’s selfish, sweet thing... my need to possess you like that. If I was a better man, I’d forgo?—”

Pressing two finger to his lips, I halt his upcoming apology with another question. “What if we try and it doesn’t work?”

“Then we keep on keepin’ on, exactly like we have been.”

“Wonderful.” I huff. “Just a hot biker and his frigid girlfriend... seems ideal.”

“Fuckin’ hardly—you’re a hellova lot more than my girlfriend... and I ain’t all that hot either.” With a scowl in response to my eye roll when he downplays his rugged looks, Zeke wraps his arms around my waist, then twists so he falls on to his back on the bed with my body on top of his. Smoothing my hair out of my eyes, my boyfriend takes a second to make sure that I’m okay before he tells me, “Crude as this may sound, but you’re more than a hole to me, metukà shelì. I love you... would fuckin’ die for you. Don’t care if it takes you ten years, or for-fuckin’-ever to come to terms with the idea of sex... I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He kisses the end of my nose as his arm tightens around my waist. “The only thing I want is you... healed... inside and out.”

“Me, too.” In a poor semblance of a smile, I offer him a quick quirk of my lips. Biting down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying, I sigh. It’s a slow exhale filled with my frustration and fears. “If I was a better woman, I wouldn’t allow you to put your life on hold like this.” Snuggling closer, I bury my face in the crook of his neck. “But I’m never letting you go... I love you too much.”

While I breathe deep to take comfort in his familiar scent, Zeke asks, “So, you wanna try?”

“I want to try,” I respond in a whisper. Lips brushing the pulse point in his neck, I murmur, “Come what may... cure or carnage.”

“Carnage.” He gently pushes me onto my back. I blink up at him when he cages me in with his hands planted on either side of my head and his knees on the outside of mine. “That’s your escape word.” Holding his weight on one arm, Zeke frees the necklace I wear from the collar of my t-shirt. The alien head pendant matches the one that swings from his neck. “Seems fittin’. I’m Venom and the only thing I’m good for is carnage.”

As much as I wish that I could kick my father in the shins for the way he downplays Zeke’s other talents, I know that it’s better if I stay on Dad’s good side. He’s the national president of the Black Shamrocks MC nowadays, and he’s already delayed my old man taking his rightful place at the head of the table once. I refuse to give him another flimsy excuse to take Zeke’s legacy away from him. Our relationship is barely accepted by the club, rocking the boat is the last thing I should do until we’re closer to solid ground.

A girl can dream though.

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