Broken Crescent (Devil's Sons Motorcycle Club Book 2) (2 page)

The way she had held him… Her mouth on his had been velvet desperation slick with tears. He had tasted her sorrow as she willingly undressed before his eyes, but he hadn’t understood why she was crying. At the time he hadn’t known what had transpired in the lapse of time from her older brother catching them kissing outside under a streetlamp and her calling him to come pick her up from her home after Rayan left. He had only known she wanted to be with him with a fire that had been missing during their first weekend together. The first had been about exploration. The last, he was realizing, had been about goodbye.

She was a sad song stuck in his head. The last time, she had stripped naked as soon as she had walked into the house, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and ripped it over his shoulders and head. Her mouth had gone immediately to his small, dark nipples nestled in chest hair, and she had kissed him all the way down his torso. She hadn’t hesitated. She had eagerly dropped to her knees and unfastened his pants.

With lips untested, she had placed her mouth to his swollen member and flicked her silken tongue down his length. Growing bolder by the second, she had taken him into her mouth, as Sam stared down at her with shocked pleasure. The way she’d felt! Sam had had his share of women before, but none like Afia. It was her innocence that heightened the experience. Her dainty hands fluttered over his shaft, her tongue inquisitive, her lips seeking the appropriate pressure—all of it had blown his nearly jaded mind.

He’d tangled his hands in her thick brown hair and felt it ripple through his palms like a river as he released her, grabbing her by the shoulders and dragging her up to his lips for a kiss that branded her as
his
. He had moved her over to the sofa to lay her down and return the favor. His mouth had devoured her while his soul fed her ecstasy, feeling her thighs clench around his face and her fingers tug at his hair.

He had suckled her sensitive clitoris until she had begged for him to give her what she needed. Then, he had mounted her perfect, lithe body and poured his lust into each stroke and caress. In and out with heightening frenzy, their mating had been a hurried affair. Had he known it would be the last time, he might have lingered.

Yet, he had pleased her and taken her upstairs. There he bathed her and put her to bed. It was almost like a dream—until she broke all contact. Now, it was a nightmare.

Sam pushed his weary body up out of the lukewarm bathwater, realizing it was near dawn, and he trudged to his bedroom to pretend like he didn’t still smell her on his sheets. He fell asleep dreaming of her, knowing he would wake up and she would still no longer be a part of his life.

CHAPTER 2

“Afia, I made up in my mind a long time ago that whatever you decided about Sam, I would support you. Now, I’m trying my best to wrap my mind around this whole process of you breaking up with him just because Rayan said so, but I’m having a hard time. Do you realize how hypocritical your brother is being? He’s a drunk, Afia! He’s holding you to a higher standard because you’re a woman, and that’s not fair.”

“It’s not about fairness, Bionca,” Afia sighed and pulled her hijab over her head, readying herself for class. “And, just because my brother has fallen by the wayside doesn’t mean I have to do the same thing. To you, it might look like I’m just following orders, but I’ve thought this out, Bionca. What my brother said was right. I have an obligation to my family…
and
a responsibility to myself to make better choices.”

It was Monday morning, a new week and a new start. It was amazing how after everything that had happened, not much had changed in her world. Afia frowned at her reflection.  Behind her, the living room she shared with her best friend was exactly the same. The sun was shining outside. The world hadn’t ended. It was only her heart that felt like it was limping along, trying to remember how to beat properly around the hollow spot where her relationship with Sam had made her feel whole.

She pushed aside the weakness and focused on getting herself together. Bionca paced, a restless shadow in the background. It was almost like her best friend was taking the situation even harder.

“Tell me what’s wrong with you caring about Sam. You’re not exactly running around with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, Afia. You like a guy for fuck’s sake! From everything you’ve told me about him, you have good reason to like him, too. He seems like a kind, hard-working, open-hearted, and open-minded man. Your parents couldn’t ask for better.”

“He’s not Muslim.”

“He might convert. Don’t look at me like that. He might! Okay, even if he doesn’t, you could choose to be with the man you love or live a lie, which is still—correct me if I’m wrong—a sin!”

“Argh! Enough about this, Bionca! I just want to get on with my life, okay? I respect your concern, but you don’t have to worry about me. It’s like you don’t want my parents to control me, but you want me to listen to
you
and make my decisions based off of what
you’re
trying to tell me to do. Why won’t any of you understand? It’s hard enough without everybody’s well-intentioned advice!”

Bionca winced from the unexpected outburst, taking a step back with her hands on her hips.  Afia realized she had been shouting. She sighed helplessly and shook her head regretfully. “Bionca, people break-up every day, and they survive. I’ll be fine.”

The platinum blond with the multi-colored dreadlocks rolled her eyes, crossing her slender arms over her meager chest. She plopped down on the sofa, giving up the argument, and watched her beautiful best friend apply liner to her eyes and a touch of lip gloss before grabbing her backpack and heading to the door. “All I’m saying is make sure you’re doing this because you want to and not because Rayan or anyone else is making you,” she called after her.

Afia walked out the door and ambled to her car, shaking her head. She was trying to banish thoughts about the week prior entirely, but Bionca wasn’t letting it rest. “Make sure I’m doing this because I want to,” she muttered. “You can’t always do what you want, Bionca.” She climbed into her car and gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, as she took a deep breath to steady herself and cranked up the engine.  Afia hadn’t spoken with Sam in days. As much as it tore at her spirit to be away from him, it was the right thing to do. There was no point in holding onto something that just couldn’t be.

The sex had been…amazing. She wouldn’t undo that, even if she could. But, she never should’ve allowed herself to get so invested and involved with Sam in the first place. They were from different worlds, not just culturally. He was a biker. She was a graduate student. Admittedly, he was also a mechanical engineer, but ultimately he wasn’t the guy for her.

She eased into Monday morning traffic and inched her way onto campus, marching into class just a few minutes late. But, for all her sensible speeches to Bionca, Afia’s mind was in turmoil. She found it hard to concentrate on her studies and impossible not to think of Sam. In a lot of ways, Bionca was right. He was perfect for her. The question was, how to convince her parents?

There was no answer because she had already given Rayan her word she’d stay away from Sam.  Head bowed over her textbook, she ignored the buzzing of her cellphone. She reached into her backpack and discreetly silenced the phone. She knew who was calling: Sam. And, she couldn’t talk to him. It wasn’t allowed.

She went through her classes with a frazzled mind, not able to focus on anything of importance. In fact, she was so out of sorts that she decided to skip her last class of the day. By the time she got home, Afia was on autopilot. There was no way she’d be able to interact with Bionca without her best friend picking up on her bad mood. Bionca knew her like a sister. So, Afia closeted herself in her room and made time to pray. She needed spiritual guidance.

Alone in her room, there was no judgment and no confusion in the communion between her being and her Creator. She collapsed onto the carpeted floor in complete submission and humility, opening her heart for healing and understanding. Though she recited words from rote memory, there was more to her prayer than mere words, and when she was done praying, she felt renewed. She felt at peace.  Afia stretched out on her bed. She had no ready answers to her dilemma, but she knew in time the signs would come.

***

The days slipped quietly onward with the same monotony as life pre-Sam. With no one to rush home and talk on the phone with through the week, Afia had plenty of time to finish and edit her thesis, do her assignments, and improve her grades. She spent Fridays at mosque more diligently than ever before, and she reluctantly spent Saturdays with her family. However, the situation at her parents’ house was strained.

It was hard to imagine she had been without Sam for half a month.  The worst of the energy sapping, mind-numbing blues had passed; however, there was a lingering malaise to missing the person she wasn’t allowed to have, and it didn’t seem prepared to let up. The pros to the passage of time was that her best friend had finally stopped using every opportunity to discuss how Afia should still be with Sam, and Sam had finally stopped calling her phone.

The con was that no matter how much time passed, Rayan’s suspicions seemed stubbornly unmovable.

“Is he still drinking?” Bionca asked.

Afia, curled on the couch, glanced from the television down to Bionca, who was working on an assignment on the floor at her feet. “He tries to hide it from me, but I can tell. He wears too much cologne and looks unkempt. He stays in his bedroom in the basement, and he tells Maman and Baba he’s stressed from trying to find a job, but I know better. He’s getting worse.”

“Still think you should keep it to yourself?”

Afia shrugged. She had made a conflicted decision not to let her parents know about Rayan’s drinking to allow him the opportunity to straighten up his act and not face their parents’ ire, but it was starting to seem like an intervention was necessary. “I just know that if Baba finds out, he’ll lose all faith in my brother. They poured so much time and money into his recovery the first time. Who wants to go through all of that again, you know?”

It was Bionca’s turn to shrug. She had grown up in a family of alcoholics. The one thing she had learned from the experience was that keeping secrets was a symptom and side effect of the disease. The worse off the addict, the more prone to deception and the more need for deception. “You know I have a few connections at the local rehab center. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

They sank back into companionable silence, and Afia drifted between sleeping and watching television. It was Bionca who broke the silence again with a smile in Afia’s direction. “So, I have a proposition for you.”

“What’s the proposition?” Afia asked warily at Bionca’s mischievous tone.

“I want to take you out this weekend,” Bionca murmured while scribbling in her notebook, perusing her textbook, and chatting on Facebook. She could never do one thing at a time. She had too much energy. “Nothing crazy. I just want to get you out of the house. All you’ve done all month is mope around.”

Afia groaned and nudged Bionca’s shoulder with the ball of her foot, smiling playfully. “Oh, it’s only been two weeks. Don’t exaggerate.”

Bionca giggled and pushed aside her work. She turned around with her legs akimbo to look up at Afia. “I feel like I’ve been punished! You know when you don’t go out with me, it’s not as much fun.  I only get to be wildly irresponsible when you’re around. So, if you don’t want to do it for you, do it for me.” She frowned dramatically with puppy dog eyes, begging cutely. “Pretty please?”

It was true, Afia had spent weeks indoors, aside from going to class and spending time with her family when required. There weren’t many high points to her life after the breakup. On the other hand, things hadn’t been that bad. She was finally feeling like she might one day get over him. Just days earlier, she had been thinking it would never happen.

“Where do you plan on going, Bionca? I know you, and I know your ways. Don’t forget what Rayan told you about being a positive influence.”

“Rayan can cart his advice to the nearest deep ditch and throw himself in after it. No offense,” Bionca replied blithely. “I need an answer. Is it a yes or no?” She squeezed her eyes shut and held up both hands, fingers crossed.

Afia couldn’t say no. The truth was she was bored out of her mind with grieving. It couldn’t be any worse to go out and mope than it was to sit in and mope. “Fine, fine! I’ll go with you, but you better not spring any surprises on me. I’m warning you. I’ll bail.”

Bionca let out a squeal of surprised pleasure, throwing her hands in the air and drumming her feet against the floor in triumph. “Ha! You’ve agreed, and you’ve given your word, so wherever I decide we go, we will go!”

Afia leaned forward warily, pointing her finger at Bionca with a warning look. “What are you up to, friend? I know that look.”

“Oh, nothing,” Bionca said aloofly and crossed her legs with a toss of her head. “Just know that you’re going to have a great time, even if I have to force you to have a good time. Are we clear?”

***

“No, no, no, and no!” Afia shook her head vehemently, refusing to get out of the car.

Bionca stamped her foot and jiggled the door handle, knocking on the glass. “Afia, get out of the car! You’re causing a scene.” She cursed her rotten luck for handing her friend the keys so she was able to lock her out. “This is crazy, you know. You’re not going to leave me here, and I’m not going to come with you. So, either you’re waiting in the car like a kid, or you get out and come party with me! Come on, the night is young! And, I don’t want you to get old waiting for me, so get out of this stupid car!”

Bionca yelped, as her fingers got pinched under the handle. She yanked away her hand with a frustrated growl. Afia guiltily unlocked the doors and slowly climbed out. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, and you owe me big time!”

“You’re welcome,” said Bionca. “I promise you’re going to enjoy yourself. You just have to trust me.” They strutted across the parking lot to The Wisecrack, Bionca in the lead and Afia dragging reluctantly behind. Afia made a whining noise and shook her body like a petulant five-year-old.

The building looked exactly the same as the last time they had come, with rundown siding and the aluminum roof with the name of the establishment in red paint. The same opaque windows stared blankly back at them, hiding what was inside. The motorcycles were the same, and the cars looked the same. Even the people lingering around outside looked the same. Afia had realized where they were going as soon as Bionca, who had insisted on driving, had turned off the main highway. They were back at the place where all the madness had begun, where she had met Sam.

“I don’t want to go in there!” Afia stalled in the parking lot. Bionca tugged her by the hand. 

“You do! I know you do, because what else would you have to do tonight if not this? Do you really want to sit at home alone another weekend? Don’t make me drag you kicking and screaming. People are watching us,” Bionca said in a stage-whisper, loud enough for the people watching to hear. Afia colored in embarrassment, seeing she was right. There was a crowd of people at the door staring curiously at the two indecisive girls haggling under the streetlamp.