Page 26 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

I don’t know what he’s looking for or what exactly he saw in me in the first place that made him go buckwild the way that he did. It just doesn’t make sense – and in the past twelve days, my understanding of Deacon’s emotional state hasn’t become more clear.

“I had my staff at the casino make you a special dessert,” he says. I’m nearly full, but after twelve days in prison andconsidering my current situation, I’m not in a position to deny myself dessert. This could be my last meal.

“Is it poisoned?”

Deacon laughs. I don’t find anything about him kidnapping me funny, so I don’t, which doesn’t appear to bother him. He happily tilts more wine down his throat, still grinning.

“No,” he says after drinking more. “Not poisoned. I’ll go get it.”

He gets up with the excitement a man might have if he was cooking for a date. I know I’m not a date to Deacon. I mean… the arrangement Oske made originally was extremely clear that this man doesn’t date. He’s not capable of dating, emotions, or having a woman around him for longer than one night.

Except… I’ve been here for twelve nights.

Thirteen nights if you count the night we met that apparently instigated this man to travel across the country and kidnap me. Deacon returns with a very dark, rich chocolate cake on a gold, round platter. The cake looks thick, decadent and rich before he even cuts it. He sets it on the table between us and returns to his seat, continuing to look very pleased with himself.

“It’s pure, solid chocolate all the way through,” he says, giving me a suggestive look. “Rich. Dark. Exactly how I like my desserts.”

He must have had the knife when he entered the room, but I didn’t notice the presence of the sharp blade until Deacon unwraps the blade from a black cloth napkin and slides it through the chocolate. My mouth waters. I try to hide my excitement, but it’s a rich, fancy ass chocolate cake, and I just spent twelve days underground.

Deacon serves me the first slice on a lightweight, lightchina plate. He clearly wants to watch me take my first bite and even if he doesn’t… I need this chocolate. When the first taste hits my mouth, the intense burst of chocolate causes me to suck my cheeks in with delight. The potent creamy chocolate flavor is so good that I almost want to cry. I don’t wait for permission or any reaction from Deacon before I go in for the second bite.

If I weren’t in a situation with a crazy biker, I would have to be held back from eating that entire cake like a loose pitbull puppy. It’s that good. Deacon serves up his own slice, not bothering to conceal a dramatic moan when he has the first taste.

A shiver travels slowlydown my spine. Easy enough to suppress, but I possess internal recognition of my fear. The closer we get to ending this meal, the closer I get to learning what Deacon wants from me.

I can’t stop myself,though. I can’t have that last bite of cake without asking thetruth.

“Areyou going to kill me when I finish this?”

He smirksand then quickly buries it, returning to placid, incomprehensible neutrality. His eyes are steel, firm, and I can tell from one look that Deacon considers both his motives and desires to beprivate.Yeah, cute, but that’s not going to work for me. I won’t spend months here bent over various platforms in his playroom without any sense of what’s goingto happen to me when this man gets done playing games and gets tired of feeding me and giving me books to read.

“Kill you? If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already.”

I don’t respond. He can’t seriously believe that I find that statement comforting. Nobody could be quite that delusional.

“Finish your cake.We’ll discuss your future after that. Live in the moment.”

Yes,Deacon is certifiably insane, but men always find a way to one up themselves. Asking a woman to “live in the moment” after you held her prisoner for twelve days has to be one of the craziest things this man has said out loud. I glare at my cake instead of Deacon.

Fine, I’ll live in the moment. The very frustrating moment that is making me pissed off. Deacon adds another slice of cake to his plate, clearly responding to my grouchiness by slowing down the process even further.Asshole…

It’s barely any comfort that he doesn’t want to kill me because if he wants me to stay here with him, I’ll have to put up with his douchey personality, his intense sexual desires… and who knows what else.

And no matterwhat he says now… there’s always going to be anafter…

Chapter Sixteen

Deacon

Keyshawn gives so little emotionally while she eats dessert that I have to fight the desire to upend her release day surprise and drag her to my bedroom to spank her. This should be a day of celebration, but she just scowls into the luxurious chocolate cake that I made for her. The cake should have been sweet enough to both atone for her time in the basement and to show her exactly how I feel about her.

I have to ignore that sly little question about whether I plan to kill her. Have I behaved in any way like a murderer? She just wants to piss me off with her intentional confusion over my intentions.

Luckily, my rule book should crystallize everything perfectly for Keyshawn's understanding. She finishes her cake, and I clear the table for both of us, leaving Keyshawn with a little wine. She sips sparingly, which I appreciate. I'm not the type of guy who needs my woman to drink like a biker. That's what I have my friends in the club for.

I spent most of the past few days drafting up a simple set of rules for Keyshawn. Clear communication is the center ofevery healthy relationship -- including this new one. I bound the rules in town at a specialty shop. The collection reminds me of my dad's copy of the U.S. constitution, a book he treasured and wore in his breast pocket until the day he died.

I set the black book in front of Keyshawn.

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