Page 11 of Blood

“What the hell, Princess?” The heavy wooden church doors groan as they close behind us.

I bristle at his tone. “Harley would fucking hate that—and you know it.” I suck clean air into my burning lungs.

“We’re going to have a wake at the club, but this is what your mother wanted.”

I don’t care. If he’s honest with himself, neither does he.

The tall trees sway above us, the sun bleeding through the gaps and creating waves of light. Is she looking down on me, watching, waiting for us to avenge her?

“It’s been two weeks. Are you going to give the green light to make a move against the Kings?”

“Princess.” He exhales through his nose, his jaw tensing. “We’ve been over this shit. The cops don’t think there was any involvement from the Kings.”

“Since when do you believe cops?” I snap, whirling on him. Tyler hates the police, calls them corrupt. For two fucking weeks, I’ve stayed at the house, avoiding Harley’s room. I can’t go in there. I can’t rest. I can barely breathe.

The soft breeze carries the scent of dirt with it. From the hole they’ve dug for her.

“Can we not do this today?” He runs a hand through his hair. The suit he’s wearing fits like a glove, but it’s fake. This isn’t him. Me. Harley. This is none of us.

“It doesn’t matter what damn day it is. Time stopped the minute Harley’s heart did. Yes or no, Tyler?”

“No,” he barks. His shoulders pull back. His pupils dilate. “I won’t risk war because you feel guilty. Princess, think about what you’re asking.” He draws a heavy breath, pacing the cobblestone path at our feet. His words punch me in the chest, penetrating straight to my core. I do have guilt. It’s toxic, corrosive. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that a King killed her.

“Then I won’t ask,” I state, defiant.

The man before me morphs into the demon I know he is. “What the fuck does that mean?” The vein at the side of his head bulges. A flock of birds take flight from the trees sensing the danger.

“It means it’s over, Ty. I can’t do this anymore.” I cross my arms, holding his gaze.He will never let me go.

“Do what?” he drives each word out, spittle punctuating his anger. His skin appears to stretch over his bones, his posture coiled tight.

“This…” I point between our bodies. The air around us thickens.He will never let me go.

Harley’s death changed me. Woke me up. I was willing to give my life to Tyler, to marry him, to bear his kids, and to live for the Devil Skull Riders. But it’s a one-way loyalty—a one-way commitment. How fucking stupid have I been to allow this for myself?

He barks out an unamused laugh. “Don’t be stupid.” Strands of hair fall free, framing his deadly glare as he shakes his head.

“I mean it.” The urge to slap his stupid, smug face overwhelms me. But I know all too well that he would strike back.

“You’re not yourself right now, but that’s okay. When you are, we’ll get marri—”

“No.” I yank his ring from my finger and ping it off his chest. “We’re done.”

“You’re angry. I’m going to allow you this little tantrum, but make no mistake, Princess.” He closes in around me, his size dwarfing mine. I don’t balk. I stand my ground. “You belong to me. You will be my wife or you’ll be alone. There’s not a soul walking this earth I’ll allow to have you.” His savagery is what I expected. Too bad I’d rather be alone than imprison myself as his damn wife.

“You’re weak,” I spit out, sneering up at him. It’s dangerous to taunt the devil, but some sick part of me wants him to lose it—wants the punishment he can dish out.

Rough fingers pinch my jawline as he drags my face toward his. “What did you just fucking say?” His glare is lethal, but the emptiness in my eyes wins out. A growl climbs up his throat as he pushes me away. “Don’t do anything stupid, Princess.”

I manage to catch myself before I stumble, putting space between us. “Bye, Ty.”

“See you real soon, babe.”

I turn on my heel and walk away, pulling the photo from my pocket. The crease down the middle is already wearing down. I’ve obsessively stared at it non-stop for two weeks. That crooked smile is more familiar to me now than my own.

Callan ‘Pain’ Cox.

Inhaling a steady breath, I whisper, “Time to meet in person, King.”

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