Page 27 of The Vipers' Vow

I glance at my phone and scrunch my wrapper in my hand. She finishes her chips and tosses back the rest of her soda.

She sighs. “We better fill up on gas and then get going. You ready?”

I nod and pick up all our trash, dropping it in the can as we pass. We pay for the gas and fill up the tank. It wouldn’t be a good idea to run out on these lonely roads.

“You want a go?” she asks, waving the keys at me.

I stare at her.

“Just for a while.” She shrugs. “Thirty minutes or so?”

I nod eagerly.

She leans in and nuzzles a spot on the side of my neck. “I kind of want to wrap my thighs around you for a bit, Zane,” she murmurs.

I want to growl at her words.

My palm cups her nape, and I pull her into me, my lips taking hers in a soft, warm kiss. She tastes salty and sweet. Probably the chips and Coke she’s just had. It’s a heady combination, and I lick at her lower lip, enjoying her little moan at the action.

God, I’m hard, and I’d love to bend her over this bike and have my way with her, but I think the old woman in the gas station will call the cops on us if we do that.

Instead, I kiss her one last time, and then pat her ass, before I swing my leg over the bike.

She wasn’t lying when she said she wanted to wrap her legs around me. As I take the turns on the road, Vani presses herself tightly to me. She hugs my waist and her legs grip against mine. Her core is pressed against my ass, and my dick is hard, which means I need to force myself to focus on the road.

It’s a beautiful kind of torture.

After we’ve been driving for a while, me lost in the road and the feel of her, she taps my forearm. I understand what she’s saying.Her turn.I slow the bike and pull to the side of the road.

We both get off and remove our helmets for a breather, the cool air delicious against my hot head.

“We’ll be entering my father’s territory soon,” she says. “There are often patrols, and this is my bike, and I need to be on the front of it in case we run into any of them.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Is she worried about how it will go when we have to face her father’s men? Is she worried for my safety? Another thought occurs to me—will her father even allow her to return to Verona Falls if he finds out about us? At least she’d still be in the same country, unlike the case might be with Saint and Lex, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Unable to resist, I steal one more kiss. It’s not wild or deep, but kind of tender. Her lips are incredibly soft, and even when we end the kiss, we stand, our foreheads pressed together, our noses grazing. Her fingers loop through mine, so we’re connected. The kiss breaks open something in my chest a little, and when I pull back, I drink in her face. I could stare at her forever. Just being with her makes me feel more like a man than I have my entire life.

Shit, this feels an awful lot deeper than I think I’ve admitted to myself. Unsure of how to deal with that, I blink and drop her hand and turn away. I pull my helmet back on and clear my throat. She watches me for a long beat and then does the same.

Once we’re back on the bike, I hold on to her and scan the road ahead, watching for other bikes.

10

LEX

The kitchen on the yacht has no windows, so it’s nearly impossible to keep track of the passing time. At some point, I must have either fallen asleep or passed out again. I suspect it was more likely that I lost consciousness, because, when I open my eyes, I discover someone has been in to clean up the mess around me. I can still detect old fish water on my clothes, though, and there’s still the hint of vomit in the air.

I took comfort in hearing Vani’s voice on the phone, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. I’m worried about what happens next, though. Do Vani and the other Vipers know where I am? Has Olsen told them?

Jarl Olsen probably still believes we’re responsible for Reagan’s death, despite him asking Vani to bring the real culprit here, and I’m shit scared about what he might do to my brother, Vani, and Zane when they get here.

I’m surrounded by shiny, metallic surfaces, and across from me is a row of stainless steel cabinets. Even the doors are metal, and I catch my reflection in the one directly opposite.Merde.I look a mess. My skin is pale, and dark marks shadow my eyes. A patchwork of blues and purples color one side of my face where that asshole punched me. I stink, too, and I suddenly find myself hoping Vani doesn’t see me like this. I’m pathetic—chained up, stinking of fish guts, and covered in bruises.

The headache I woke with has dulled to a steady thud behind my eyes. I hope this means I don’t have a fractured skull, and I’m simply concussed. The nausea hasn’t completely abated, but I wonder how much of that is down to seasickness rather than any concussion. If I do have anything like that, it’s got to be mild. I have no memory loss at all, but I’m finding it hard to think clearly. The boat continues to rise and fall beneath me, though not in a dramatic way. I remember the storm that was hitting when I was trying to sort out the disaster that was my car. That’s probably why I can feel so much movement, even if we’re on a lake. The winds had been high then, which would be plenty enough to cause waves.

I blink in the light and peer around, trying to discover if there are any security cameras in here. There most likely will be, even if there’s no one watching me on the other end of them. I spot a circular device in the corner of the ceiling, a red light blinking on it. That’s a camera; I’m sure of it.

I remember the massive guy with the leather necklace of tiny, shriveled cocks. Is he behind one of the lenses, peering at me? Or do they think I'm still unconscious, so they've taken their eye off me? Whether they're watching or not, I can’t just sit here. I need to figure out a way out of this.

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