Page 5 of Behemoth

Checking my other charts, making sure everything is up-to-date, I push the curtains aside and see Francis sitting on the edge of the bed, trying and struggling to put his torn, bloodied T-shirt back on. When his gaze reaches mine, I'm surprised by the emotions in those metallic gray eyes. I move toward him and grab his shirt before throwing it on the empty seat behind us, and then gather the necessary items I need to complete closing up his wound.

Placing the tray on the side of Francis’ bed, I poke him with a metal prod. No response, so I assume he is numb. I look at him and see him staring straight ahead. He’s not going to make it easy on me apparently.

"Francis, do you feel me poking you? Any sensation at all?"

He just shakes his head. His answer is my go-ahead to proceed with the stitching process. I didn't realize how long and deep the cut is. It’s probably going to need thirty to thirty-five stitches; due to the fact I have to first repair the layer of cut muscle, then close the top layer of skin. It shocks me how quiet and still he is.

I try to keep my attention on the task at hand, but seeing his rock-hard torso is making the job a bit difficult, to say the least. He is big in all areas: his height, weight, shoulders, and chest. But his waist narrows down to the most defined hips and V I’ve ever seen. And his chest has just a scattering of hair, until you see the fine line that directs your attention down his eight-pack—yeah eight—which disappears below his waistband. Running my gaze down farther, I notice the bulge in his jeans; along with the thickest thighs I've ever seen. A perfect specimen of a man, a real man. Just sayin’.

Realizing my thoughts have taken an unprofessional turn, I try to get my head back into what I'm doing, and finally finish. I apply some antibiotic cream and then bandage it up before stepping back. Francis hasn't said a word, just kept his gaze forward with sort of a smirk on his face. Thank God he can’t read my frigging mind. That would be beyond embarrassing. Finally done, I pick up the few pieces of garbage and drop them in the correct receptacle.

I grab the release paperwork with instructions on his aftercare and approach Francis, gently touching his shoulder. His gaze immediately follows my hand, and then shoots up to my face.

"You Wrecker's ol’ lady, Grace?"

“I'm no one's ol’ lady, Francis. I actually despise that title."

"Okay then. How's Damien doing? Could you tell him thanks for the cookies? I guess I owe you thanks for them, too. They were awesome. I haven't ever had anything homemade just for me, so, well...thanks. They tasted like Heaven. Great kid you got there."

As I stare at this man, I feel my eyes get larger by the minute. Yeah, a good guy, even if he is a complex one. What did he mean no one has ever made anything just for him? Is that even possible?

"Damien is fine and I'd like to keep it that way. Please stay far away as I don't want any trouble, Francis. And for some reason, I feel trouble is your middle name."

I look him up and down, my eyes landing on his scars...letting my meaning take effect.

"Grace, my scars have nothing to do with my club. These I got many years ago, when I was younger than Damien. Your boy is a good kid. Made me think about things I haven't thought about in years. Thanks for sewing me up. If we’re done, I'll get out of your hair."

As I prepare to hand him the information for his release, he stands up from the bed. Holy cow, he’s taller than I even imagined. When I hand him the paperwork, our hands touch and the electrical shock that goes through my body immediately makes my nipples hard and my clit throb with need. I’ve never had these feelings before. Now I’m tingling because of a biker/fireman. Yeah, karma is a bitch. Looking up to see Francis intently watching my every move, I go to draw my hand back, but he hesitantly grabs it, pulling it toward him gently.

"Grace, I...um...want to thank you for all you have done. I get you’re worried, seems like you’ve had some really bad experiences with Wrecker's MC and brothers. My brothers and I aren't like them, but those are just words you don't have to believe. Tell Damien I said hi and to be a good boy for his momma."

With that, he releases me and walks around the curtain. I stand there, my body feeling things for the first time ever. I can feel my breasts swell, nipples harden, and my clit feels like a heartbeat throbbing down there. God, he is exactly what I have always wanted. A big guy who would make me feel protected and safe, maybe even treasured.

A good guy with a heart, who would care about us. But I can't go back, not to a biker in a club. I promised myself when we got far away from Wrecker, I would never put us in a situation like that again.

CHAPTER FIVE

Francis

It has been about fifteen days since I saw Grace. Well, that isn't true; I did see her in the hospital parking lot, where I watched her get into her older model Nissan and leave. Yeah I’m watching her. I haven't spoken to her since she took care of my injury, but she is on my mind. Constantly. Even when I’m busy at the firehouse or with the club, she’s there.

At times, when I’m reflecting on all that is Grace, my powers kick in or that intense feeling I get in the back of my head prior to hearing her when she is speaking to Damien or a patient, and it’s driving me fuckin’ insane. My dick has been harder than ever before these past two weeks. When I was at the Friday night party at the clubhouse, a sweet butt came up to me, rubbing all over me. My dick didn't even twitch. When she went down on her knees to suck me off, all I saw was Grace's face and couldn't do it.

So, I pushed Kiwi away from me and left the party. I rode home and rubbed one off in the shower. Actually I’ve been jerking off in the shower and in bed a couple times a day. Just thinking about it causes my cock to harden. Sucks that I have finally found someone I not only like but also am intensely attracted to and they aren’t interested at all.

Well, after speaking to Brick, my prez, he told me no one could tell me who I can be with. Especially a rival club we have been having issues with due to their lack of a moral compass. I explained it might blowback on the club and his answer was, “Let it.” He explained, in his way, that being a member means we all have each other's backs. He wants me to be happy, however that comes, and asked that I let him know if Grace and I do get together, so he can prepare our club for any issues from the Satan's Flaming Marauders MC. Not that us getting together is ever gonna happen as Grace seems to really hate bikers.

After cleaning the cabin yet again—I hate dirt and clutter—I grab a cold beer and sit on the back deck. I love the view of my yard with all the green grass and established trees. With the afternoon quiet and peaceful, I can hear the stream behind the trees. This right here is what helps relax me and keeps my head quiet. I purposely choose to live out in the country, away from crowds of people. I get sick of the stares and comments my appearance always brings. Also, being near lots of people, my head is constantly filled with their thoughts, hopes, dreams, and sometimes nightmares. So, I chose my life, and it includes the firehouse, the club, and my serene cabin.

Movement catches my attention, so I glance up to see a deer and her fawn enter the grassy area. I take a breath and relax as I settle down to watch the scene before me. The fawn is a couple of months old, and frisky. Mom is cautious but enjoying the sun and light breeze. The mother deer is very observant, and I can feel her watching me as I look at her and her baby.

“Be careful, Francis, life as you know it is going to change. Be open to it.”

Before I can even comprehend what I just heard from a fucking deer, my phone rings. Trying to grab it fast so as not to disturb them, I look up to see them leaving quickly. The mother deer looks back my way and swear to God, she gives me a flick of her head. Yeah, now I talk to deer. The deer whisperer, I think to myself.

"’Lo."

"Is this Mr. Stein?"

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