Page 56 of Scarred Sacrifice
“I want to be alone, Eden,” she sighs, looking out at the view.
“I will be sure to tell, Eden,” I state.
She whirls around, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
“Came for the view.” I shrug, looking at her.
She rolls her eyes. “You can go. I’m not about to throw myself off the edge,” she states sarcastically.
“I know. You’re too stubborn for that.” I smirk.
She looks at me. “I hate that you know that about me,” she admits.
I frown. “What? That you’re a stubborn pain in the ass?”
She purses her lips in annoyance. “Sure, I hate that you know those kinds of personal things,” she states.
“Why did you storm off?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. I just needed to blow off steam.” She shrugs.
I get off the bike and walk to stand in front of her, placing my legs on either side of her front tyre. “You looked pretty freaked out when you woke and I wasn’t there,” I remind her.
“I wasn’t freaked out. I thought you had escaped,” she adds, like it’s no big deal.
“That I had escaped? And where did you think I had gone?” I press.
“Back to the CIA,” she answers.
“You really think I would go to the CIA now and tell them everything? About you and the club?” I frown. She looks down at the helmet on her lap, her fingers gliding back and forth over a tiny scratch. “Mor,” I say, pressing her for an answer.
“I don’t know, okay?” she snaps, her pained eyes colliding with mine.
I take hold of her chin firmly, forcing her to look at me. “I could never betray you or the club,” I tell her. Her eyes flick back and forth between mine, as if searching for a lie. “I like you. Fuck, I like you a lot,” I confess.
“We are enemies,” she starts, but I cut her off. “You are CIA and I'm well, me.”
“We haven’t been fucking enemies since I broke into that cell and rescued you. Probably before that too, but both of us were too stuck up our own ass to realise it. You’re mine, and I don’t plan on ever giving you up.”
She flinches out of my hold. I frown as she gets off the bike and places her helmet on the seat. She looks at me with that cold hard stare I’ve become accustomed to seeing. She’s in defensive mode.
“I’m not yours, and I will never be owned, this isn’t like other MC’s. I am not an ol’ lady. I ride the bike in my club, with my sisters,” she states firmly.
Feeling used to her mood swings by now, I smirk and step towards her. “You’re mine,” I repeat.
“I’m not,” she counters.
“You fucking are,” I say on a laugh.
“No, I’m not, and this isn’t funny,” she argues.
“It kind of is. You are mine and I am yours,” I state firmly.
“If you were mine, that would imply I care about you, when in reality it’s just sex. Nothing more,” she says sharply.
I nod. “Okay, nothing more. Then you won’t care if I take a walk off the edge here,” I state as I walk to the edge of Devil’s Drop, where there is a two hundred and fifty cavernous drop.
“Why would you do that?” she asks.
