Page 30 of Axe
CHAPTER TWELVE
Axe
I tried to keep calm, I really did, but by the time she was done my body was visibly shaking with anger.
As she looked at me, her eyes held a hollowness that told me she wasn’t completely there. I had no idea if she could tell how I was feeling. I couldn’t even speak. Whatever she might have needed from me right then, she wasn’t going to get. Not because I didn’t want to give it to her. I was just too blinded by the fury I felt running through my veins to be able to reach out to her.
Her story only reminded me of my own and I couldn’t help but become enraged at the thought that the both had to go through that.
Images of my past danced like little demons around the outer rim of my mind.
I felt sick and for a long moment, I hated myself. I was downright disgusted at the man I’d become.
She had been through some of the sickest shit I could ever imagine. And that was saying something coming from me.
Yet, she had somehow made her way out.
And there I was, treating her just the same.
I had put my hands on her and in my mind, I wanted to do more than that. Hell, it wasn’t even a few hours ago I imagined marking her—having my fucked up way with her, all while I got off to it.
I was a monster, just like her fucking husband.
Thinking that she was married made my head dizzy with rage. But that was only the tip of it. She’d been forced to do things no one should ever have to do. And while I could tell there was more to her story, I couldn’t even bring myself to push for the rest. I couldn’t imagine reliving that was easy. It was clear that she’d figured out how to deal a long time ago. That vacant look in her eyes and the emotionless tone she had when she spoke about it was a dead giveaway. My heart ached for her and the boy.
Never in a million years would I have imagined that we were so alike. I had my ways that I adapted to get through each day as a kid. Some of those things still carried on in my life even though the threat was no longer there. Like the weird tone thing and my inability to have a normal life. My father had robbed me of so many things, just the way her captor had done to her.
There were a few things I wanted to do at that moment and all of them pretty much contradicted each other.
One, I wanted to touch her. I wanted to comfort her even if she seemed like she didn’t need or want it. I wanted to take away her pain, though I knew I never would be able to.
Two, I wanted to stand up and fight for her. I wanted to show her that she was worth standing at the front lines of the war for. I had this need to not only want to protect her but help her rise up and become the strong woman she could be. And I knew she had it in her, I saw it every time she didn’t back down to me when I had tried my hardest to intimidate her. Every time she looked at me with eyes that could cut a man dead.
Three, and this one is the real twisted one, I wanted to hold her down and claim her. I wanted to mark her. I wanted to know how she felt under me. I had a strong urge to let her know she was mine.
And that last one was the thing that had me getting to my feet with a lightning speed jump. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t breathe and I knew that the longer I was around her, the harder it would be to control myself.
To me, it didn’t matter if she seemed like she wanted it—and I could tell she wanted it. She could try and hold her own all she wanted, but when I got near her, really crowded her space, her body reacted in the most responsive way. That was what was fucked up.
While I didn’t actually know in detail what he did to her, I had a pretty good idea. So, it wasn’t even a little bit okay that I treated her the same way that he had.
I mumbled something unintelligible and walked to the door. I didn’t look at her as I waved Calvin over and told him to stay in the house. I couldn’t put enough space between us fast enough.
I rode my bike around for over an hour. Her words replayed over and over in my head. Hearing those things had been hard as fuck. I couldn’t imagine anyone having to go through that. It was beyond sick and I wanted to hunt the guy down and gut him. He would have a slow, painful death if I had anything to do with it.
That was it, I was determined to take care of this myself. Only I knew I would need to give her a few days before I asked for more. I feared that if she stayed too long in the memories that she would truly break. I got that she thought she already had, but what she didn’t realize, was that finding her ways to cope showed more strength and determination to survive.
No, she wasn’t broken, maybe a little cracked and messed up, but she was nowhere near done with life.
Frustrated, tired, and unable to sort through all the things in my head, I made my way to the bar. The only one in town and it was a sad sight. It was owned by our VP, Loch and mostly ran by his old lady Reagan. She’d managed to turn the place around a bit and now the inside didn’t seem as much of a dump as it looked from the outside.
I knew a few brothers would be there. It was where we all went when we wanted to hang out but were tired of looking at the walls of the clubhouse.
I went inside and plopped my ass on one of the stools at the bar top. I sent a few chin lift greetings to some of my brothers but didn’t give any indication that I wanted company. Chris walked over and set a bottle down in front of me and I gave him a nod.
I didn’t drink a lot and I had a limit. Two max, ever, and I didn’t drink every day or even every other day. The last thing I wanted to do was turn into my father. That was just one of my many ways I had of keeping myself in check.
“Everything alright?” Chris asked after I tossed the last swallow down.
