Page 30 of War's Witch
“Why are you looking like he kicked your puppy, then?”
I blink at Target’s question, then shrug, pulling my mask firmlyback in place.
“I have some trust issues that I need to work through, and I am not sure he is ready for my kind of crazy.”
“Hey, now, we all have a little bit of crazy in us, babe. Plus, he looks like a biker, so I am sure that he is used to some kind of crazy.” He winks, and I can’t help but giggle.
I am thankful for the attempt he makes. This is why Target is my favorite biker.
Keeping a smile on my face, I stand to full height and shake off all the negative energy that is prickling my skin.
“Oh, believe me, I know. I have been around the clubhouse, remember? You guys only fuck women who carry a truckload of crazy.”
“What can I say, the Rugged Skulls like to party on the crazy train, sweets.” He wins again.
He lets me get on with my day, but War plagues my mind all day. Everything in me is pulling in a different direction when it comes to him and I need to think on what happens next.
Chapter
Fourteen
WAR
That woman is fucking infuriating.
Sending me away like I wasn’t the one making her lose herself in a climax that I fucking gave her. Like I was not the man who made her fucking scream from knowing how her body likes to be touched.
My pride still stings from the way she looked at me—like I was just another one of her problems, something to be managed then dismissed. I know that she has shit to work through but fuck me, I can help with that.
I know I was out of line, asking if she was fucking the others. I saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, that got masked by anger, and I hated myself for putting it there. Cleo isn’t that kind of woman—she’s chaos wrapped in steel, stubborn as hell, but does not fuck multiple men at the same time.
But my rage got the better of me, twisting my words until they cut deep.
Now I’m pacing the parking lot of my motel, fists clenched. I want to punch something—anything—to bleed out the frustration and regret. Instead, I just burn in my fucked-up part of hurting her again.
The worst part? I’d do anything to be the one she lets in, the one she trusts with her secrets, her scars. But I just added a fucking grenade to what could be a start to a relationship between us.
Still, I can’t stay away. Not when everything in me is wired to her, pulled by a spell that was cast that night.
I tap my left chest pocket where the black feather sits from that night. A reminder that Lilian has given me her blessing to fit Cleo into my heart.
My phone ringing pulls my steps to a stop, and I fish my phone out of my pocket, seeing Locke’s name flash across the screen.
“Locke,” I answer.
“Brother, how is Phoenix?”
“Hot as balls, brother.”
He chuckles on the other end. “Yeah, this time of year gets Satan hot, man. Careful you do not burn your cock off.”
“Fuck off and stop talking about my cock, for fuck’s sake.”
He laughs. “Brother, we have all seen enough of each other’s dicks over the years.” He laughs, and I smile at memories of the shit we used to get up to.
So many times we would be caught with our pants down and dicks out. Some would laugh it off, while others would be offended, but each and every time we were having a blast. Except for that one time we got arrested for streaking down the fucking road and a cop caught us.
“True. Good times, brother, good times.”
