His Attempts

Mazikeen POV

King stops the bike next to my car, and I climb off while looking at him.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I said. I warned you I wasn’t fun and that I’m a good person,” I explain.

“You can be a good girl, Miss and see the truth in things like bike clubs,” King states.

“It’s hard, King. I’ve lived an entire life being taught what is right and wrong, and while I know it’s innocent, there’s always that voice telling me it isn’t,” I say, and he leans back on the bike and looks at me.

“There’s a lot I will take, but anyone talkin’ ’bout my family, brothers and cursed kings, I won’t stand for,” he tells me, and I nod.

“I know it isn’t a gang, King. I apologise for that, but I’m not that person. I didn’t belong in that bar. Those women, were amazing and fierce, not book nerds and teachers,” I say.

He chuckles and slings his leg over the bike to climb off before walking to me. His body pins mine against the car. “Ya amazing and fierce, Miss, ya just need someone to drag it outta ya. Gotta be willing to say fuck the people and do what makes ya happy.”

He’s right, but I’ve always lived under the umbrella of considering what others think, especially Edward and my parents. Whenever I did anything it was judged by them, so it isn’t possible.

“Thank you for the ride and drinks, King.” I turn to get in the car and he stops me.

“I ain’t quittin’, Miss.” He moves closer. “I’ve found somethin’ I want, and I ain’t ’bout to let it go,” he says while smiling.

“You have to have had it to be able to let it go, King; you haven’t got me,” I reply.

His head throws back, and he laughs. “Fuck, Miss, you’ve no idea, none at all, do ya? I’ve got ya, guarantee it.” His words send a shiver down my spine. “Stoppin’ next to ya car that day, I told my brothers I was havin’ ya, and I’m gonna make ya my woman,” he says fiercely.

“King, you’re a boy. It’s wrong, especially as you’re my student,” I argue.

“I’m a man, Miss. Keep callin’ me a fuckin’ boy; I’ll prove it wrong,” he says as he grips my chin. “Be ready, Miss, I won’t give in,” he states.

“King, I’m twenty-eight. How old are you?” I ask.

“Nineteen, babe, age ain’t a factor in this; there’s only two things that matter, and we’re facin’ each other,” he argues before lowering his head and kissing my neck. A whimper claws at my throat, trying to escape.

“See ya in the lecture hall, Miss,” he turns and climbs on the bike. I get into the car and drive home. My mind is on everything that happened tonight.

I have to admit, I enjoyed it, not just King, but the freedom, something different and not the norm. I know I’m a hypocrite. I’m teaching my students about discrimination, diversity, and contemporary issues, all while I let what others think of me stop me from living my life. At the same time, I judge people based on what others say and not facts. I’m not from a place like this, however. I grew up in a prim life, perfect family, perfect education and the entire world is build and run by rules and fear of rejection.

I have a fear of being different and stepping outside the box. I grew up in a place where there were no bad guys, no bikers, or such. At least not that I ever saw anyway. Then, Edward moved us to a small town after we married. That was the same, very religious people.

That is why when he said he had a new job, I agreed, despite it being close to my parents again. This town is nothing like where I lived before. Sure, a lot of people are like I am, but there is so much more hidden.

Like the bikers, I learnt about them in the lounge area for professors.

“Outlaws, nothing but illegal scum.” That is what one of them said; I learnt that day that King, also known as Ezekiel King, is one of three children of King Ezekiel. Yeah, King is named after his father, but the names are switched.

I heard enough that day to know that King was working his way into the brotherhood, apparently. I knew nothing about biker clubs, outlaws and all that until I got here.

So, my only knowledge came from the other professors, who seemed to hate the club and think that they were the ones bringing the bad into the town. Hell, some of them even accused the club of trafficking women, but the King I’ve met doesn’t seem like that.

He seems caring, but he’s not the type to stand by and watch it happen. What would I know, though? I’ve lived under a rock, an Edward rock, for eleven years since I was a child. My knowledge of life comes from him and my parents, and even I know it’s wrong.

Stepping into the house, I try to be quiet. I’m late, later than I should be, that is for sure. Placing my keys down, I turn and see Edward waiting.

“Where the hell were you?” He snaps as he steps closer to me.

“I lost track of time. I got talking to one of the professors,” I lie while hoping he doesn’t figure this out.

“For two hours? Seems a bit crazy, it’s a work night, why the hell would you stay out this late and make me have to wait up for you?” He looks at me, clearly annoyed.

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t realised.” I walk past him and go upstairs, hearing him follow.

“This is a marriage, Mazikeen. I’m done with this nonsense over the past few weeks. Since we moved here, you’ve been acting crazy and like someone who has forgotten what respect is,” he argues. I go silent, unsure of what to reply to him. What do I say to that?

“Your mother rang you as well, and you ignored her. Someone who brought you up and fed you, and you couldn’t even answer the phone to her,” he shouts, and I turn to face him.

“I apologise, I didn’t hear the phone. It won’t happen again,” I say before walking to the bathroom. I should have known the consequences of this weren’t going to be good.