Chapter 5

Landon’s POV 

The heavy bag swung hard as I drove my fist into it, the leather groaning in protest. Each hit echoed through the room, blending with the thick air that reeked of sweat, stale beer, and that faint metallic tang of blood; a familiar, comforting stench that usually cleared my head. 

Tonight, it wasn’t fucking working.

"You’re losing your touch, Reaper," Tyler grunted, dancing around me on the mat, his fists raised. "Or are you just getting slow in your old age?"

I didn’t answer. My mind was a thousand miles away, back on that cracked asphalt outside the dorms, the moonlight catching the tears on her cheeks. 

Kasey. 

"He kissed her, Reap."  Her voice, small and shattered, echoed in my skull, overlaying the thud of my own heartbeat. It had taken every ounce of control I possessed not to turn my bike around, ride back to the bonfire, and put my fist through my little brother’s pretty-boy face.

"Earth to Landon!" Tyler’s gloved fist jabbed out, catching me hard on the shoulder. I barely felt it. The phantom sensation of her body pressed against my back during the ride home was infinitely more vivid. The way her arms had wrapped around my waist, her face buried in my cut, her quiet sobs vibrating through me. 

Fuck.

"What’s your problem?" Tyler asked, dropping his hands. He was breathing hard, sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead. "You’re a million miles away. Thinking about that whore you fucked last week? Kendra, right?"

The name hit like a splash of cold water.

The memory of what happened was an ugly stain I couldn’t scrub out.

I never touched a woman who wasn’t stone-cold sober. Consent was a line I didn’t cross, a rule carved deeper than any club law. But what happened with Kendra was a... blur. I couldn’t remember a damn thing, and that alone was enough to make me sick.

But that wasn’t what had my head fucked up. Not even close.

"Nah," I finally grunted, shaking my head. "Just… shit."

"Club shit?" he pressed, his tone shifting from teasing to serious. As my VP-to-be, it was his job to ask.

"Something like that." I couldn’t tell him it was sister shit. His sister shit. He would kill me if he knew I wanted to fuck his innocent little sister.

The door to the gym swung open, and two of the club’s regular girls wandered in, giggling, wearing nothing but tiny shorts and their cuts. They perched on a weight bench, clearly angling for a show, for attention. I didn’t even glance their way. My dick didn't so much as twitch. It hadn’t for anyone else in a long time. Not since a certain brunette had stumbled into my arms three years ago and pressed her soft, fucking perfect mouth to mine.

It was a drunk peck. A mistake. And it was over in a second. But the moment her lips touched mine, it was like a match thrown on gasoline. I’d been ready to fucking combust, to pin her against the wall and show her what a real kiss felt like. But then she’d sighed his name into my mouth. 

Leo. 

That one word doused the fire and gutted me all at once. She’d kissed me thinking I was him; and it shouldn’t have made me feel anything, but it did. She forgot about it the next day like it never happened. I didn’t.

"You seeing this?" Tyler chuckled, nodding toward the girls. "They’re begging for it. You could have your pick. Take the edge off."

"Not interested," I bit out, the words sharper than I intended.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed, but not with suspicion. With brotherly concern. "Seriously, man. You’ve been wound tighter than a snare drum for weeks. You need to get laid. It’s not healthy."

You have no idea.

His obliviousness was my only shield. He saw me as his best friend, his brother in arms, the guy who’d protect his little sister with his life. He never saw the dark, possessive hunger that churned in my gut every time she walked into a room. Every time she looked at Leo with that longing look in her eyes. 

He lunged then, capitalizing on my distraction. His right hook connected with my jaw, a solid, stunning crack that snapped my head to the side. I tasted blood.

"Fuck you, Dude!" I spat, the coppery tang pulling me back into the moment.

"Told you you’re getting slow,” he grinned, that infuriating, familiar smirk he’d had since we were kids. "Old man."

I charged him, all the frustrated, pent-up energy exploding out of me. We grappled but my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was replaying my offer to her, the blatant lie I’d spun so beautifully.

"Let me teach you how to make a man fall to his fucking knees."

If only she knew I didn’t want to teach her for him. I wanted to teach her for me. I wanted to be the one to show her what her body was capable of, to draw out those soft gasps and breathy moans I knew were locked inside her. I wanted her to look at me with the same worshipful devotion she wasted on my stupid brother. 

If the only way to get my hands on her, to finally have her, was to hide behind my brother’s name, then so fucking be it. It was a deceit that should have repulsed me but I was too fucking gone to give a shit.

Tyler finally got the better of me, pinning me to the mat with a grunt of triumph. "Yield?"

"Yeah, yeah," I breathed, tapping out. "You win."

He clapped me on the shoulder and got up, heading for the cooler of beers. "Don’t worry, Reaper. You’ll get me next time."

I pushed myself up. "Gonna hit the shower."

Tyler nodded, already cracking open a beer and laughing at something one of the girls said.

I stalked down the hall to the private bathroom attached to my room here in the Clubhouse, locking the door behind me with a definitive click. The silence was a relief. I shrugged out of my sweaty clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and stepped into the shower stall.

I didn’t turn on the hot water. I cranked the handle all the way to cold.

The icy spray hit me like a physical blow, shocking my system, plastering my hair to my scalp and sluicing the sweat and grime from my skin. I braced my hands against the tiled wall, head hanging, as the water needled my back. It did fuck-all to cool the fire in my blood. My cock was already hard, a throbbing, painful ache against my thigh, untouched and demanding.

I needed a release or I was going to burst from all the pressure. 

I wrapped a hand around my length, a rough, hungry grip, hissing at the contact. My eyes screwed shut, and it was her I saw. Not the memory of a drunk peck, but a fantasy, vivid and brutal in its clarity.

My fist moved faster, a slick, punishing rhythm under the cold water. I imagined peeling that tight little top she wore last night over her head, finally seeing the tits I’d watched strain against the fabric for years. I’d taste every inch of her, licking the salt from her skin, biting the soft curve of her neck until she moaned. My name. I’d make her scream my name.

The image of her beneath me, writhing, her legs wrapping around my waist, her nails digging into my shoulders—it was too much. A guttural groan was torn from my throat, lost in the sound of the shower. My orgasm hit me hard, a white-hot wave of release that left me shuddering, my forehead pressed against the cold tile, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

The water ran clear. The tension was gone, for a moment. But the hunger wasn’t. It was deeper now, more focused.

I turned off the water, the sudden silence ringing in my ears. I leaned against the wall, dripping onto the floor, my mind already spinning the next thread of the lie.

She thought I was her unlikely ally. Her guide to the heart of the man she loved.

But every lesson I would teach her, every touch, every whispered word of guidance… it would be for me. I would mold her, shape her desire, until the only man she could see, the only man she could even think of wanting, was…

A sharp rap on the bathroom door made me jump.

"Reaper? You decent?" Tyler’s voice cut through the pounding water. "We need to move. Your old man’s waiting for us at the office."

"Fuck," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. I’d completely forgotten about that. Last night had been the Blood Oath ceremony, and today we had to sort out the placement of the new prospects.

My old man, who was the President of the Iron Serpents MC was always the decision maker in that regard alongside his Vice President Howard Starling, who happened to be Tyler’s old man.

As for me, the heir apparent, I didn’t have much power until my old man stepped down. I was stuck doing all the dirty work until the throne was mine. Collecting dues. Settling disputes. Making sure our allies stayed loyal and our enemies stayed scared.

But I attended all meetings nonetheless. 

I shut off the water, the pipes groaning in protest. "Give me a second, " I called back, grabbing the towel from the hook and running it over my face.

As I stepped out, my thoughts slipped to her again.

Would she take the offer? Would she trust me enough to say yes?

I hoped to God she wouldn’t. 

For her own damn sake.