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“Me, personally?” I asked, confused.
Riptide’s nostrils flaring, he nodded.
“Not Viper.”
As I told all about seducing his brother Tex, his reaction was telling. His grip on my thigh tightened, a clear indication that his thoughts were veering into territory I hadn’t intended to explore. The undercurrent of jealousy was unmistakable, an absurd reaction given our complex history.
“It’s clear you’re more interested in what I did with your brother than the actual relevant facts,” I observed, a note of disdain coloring my words. “But let me make something clear. I’m a big girl, Hudson. I do what I want, with whoever I want.”
His reaction was immediate. Riptide’s hand moved from my thigh to cradle my cheek, forcing me to meet his gaze. The energy in his dark eyes was a force unto itself, a silent command that allowed no argument.
“You won’t be doing that anymore,” he proclaimed, his voice low and laden with a possessiveness that sent a drizzle into my panties.
I opened my mouth to ask but couldn’t form words.
He answered anyway. “Because I’m back in your life now. You’re going to be mine, Star. Just like before.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, a chilling echo of a past I’d fought hard to move beyond. Memories of him saying those exact words, followed by days of public ridicule and private tenderness, flooded back. It served as a recap of the cycle of his manipulation and desire that had once held me captive.
The juxtaposition of the boy who’d whispered those words in the dark and the man who now growled them, with the same conviction and expectation of compliance, just underscored the power dynamics that had always skewed in his favor.
For a moment, I was that girl again, caught in the throes of a toxic attraction. I briefly melted into a puddle of goo in his hands as his lips lingered on my throat. But the years had tempered me, had taught me the value of my independence and the strength of my will.
Tearing away from his grasp, I met his gaze with a defiance born of hard-won battles and a determination to never be anyone’s possession again.
“I’m not the same person I was back then, Hudson,” I said, my voice firm and devoid of the emotions threatening to end me. “And I don’t belong to you. I belong to myself.”
Getting to my feet, I abandoned him there in the moonlight, a symbolic gesture of the distance I’d put between the girl I once was and the woman I had become. The night, once a backdrop to our tangled past, now stood as a witness to my assertion of autonomy and a refusal to revisit the chains of a bygone era.
After leaving Hudson, Riptide, alone in the cool night, I stormed back into the bar, the heat of anger and defiance burning through me. Inside, the raucous atmosphere of the Roost was like a different world, one where the complications of my past with Riptide seemed to disappear. To drive my point home, to him, to myself, to anyone who was watching, I decided to push the envelope further than I had in a long time.
The Hell on Heelz MC always had a variety of men around, from the tough-as-nails types to the more submissive ones who were just looking for a wild ride. Tonight, I chose the former, settling into the lap of one of the meanest-looking guys at the bar. A man with big burly arms and a big bushy beard, whose name I didn’t even know. Pressing my breasts in his face was a statement of independence, and a clear message to Riptide that the girl he once knew, the one he kept secret and controlled, was long gone.
As Riptide moved on to question my sisters, I played along with the stranger’s flirtations, my laughter forced and hollow. Despite the act, my attention was split, one part of me engaging in this superficial dance of attraction, the other part watching Riptide interact with my club sisters.
And yes, a bit of me was flattered that Hudson wanted to still own me in some way. The audacity of him, outright declaring I was his, both enraged me and fascinated me. Honestly, I was more than curious about Riptide, the man he’d become and felt an undeniable pull towards the biker president more than anything. Yet, the reality remained unchanged. The Seville Slayers were the enemy, a fact Rage had so recently and vividly reminded me of.
But curiosity was a powerful force, and part of me couldn’t help but wonder what could have been, what might still be if circumstances were different. That line of thought was dangerously enticing, a temptation I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to resist.
My musing was abruptly interrupted when the man I was perched on became too handsy, his intentions shifting from flirtatious to overtly aggressive as he grabbed my ass. My protests were loud, drawing the attention of those around us, but he only grew bolder and was sticking his greasy hand down my cleavage. It was a situation all too familiar, yet this time, I was no longer the vulnerable girl I once was. With a swift move and a well-placed punch, his lights were out. The big guy hit the floor with a thud that rebounded through the bar.
In the ensuing silence, Riptide was suddenly there, beside me, his eyebrows high. “I was coming to your rescue,” he joked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But it seems you can handle yourself just fine.”
His words, meant to tease, only served to confuse me further. Here was Hudson, Riptide, the boy who once made me feel so small, acknowledging the strength I’d fought hard to claim. It was a moment of validation, of recognition, yet it was tinged with the bittersweet realization that our worlds were still irrevocably at odds.
As the laughter and chatter resumed around us, I was left to ponder the strange, twisted journey that had brought us to this point, a place where the past and present merged, where old wounds and new insights mingled to paint a picture of a future that was anything but clear.
Riptide, with his usual smug assurance, crossed his massive arms and relayed what my sisters had unwillingly divulged under his questioning.
“It was enlightening,” he mused, his eyes scanning the crowd, landing briefly on his brothers who were thoroughly distracted by the local women who frequented the bar. “Seems there’s a brother of mine I didn’t know was playing in this mess, and another man, a stranger. Your girl, Tank, mentioned my brother was last seen with a member of your club, but she clammed up about who. I’m heading out to find answers.”
The casual drop of this bombshell, his mention of a potential link to the Hell on Heelz, ignited a sense of duty within me. Rage would want to know, would want this followed up on by one of her own.
Without a second thought, I offered, “I’ll go with you. If it involves another Heel, I need to be there.”
His reaction was a mix of amusement and incredulity, a smirk dancing on his lips as he laughed off my offer. “My brothers and I can handle it, Brat. No need for you to tag along.”
But I stood my ground, my resolve steeling. “If it involves a Heel, I’m going. That’s non-negotiable.”
