Warlord (Anathema Book 1) (11 page)

But only one man
wore the label declaring his legacy as president.

And he happened
to be the most attractive man I ever saw.

Except he was
the one who dealt with my freedom in the shadows of a heretical “church,”
bargaining my safety in deals God couldn’t imagine and the Devil feared to
claim.

Darkness
shrouded Thorne. From the pitch of his leather to the blackness of his hair
framing an expression that belonged only in the underworld of the night. He
nodded toward my brothers.

“Any problems?” He
spoke intentionally soft, though the words still roared through my head like
the revving of a chasing engine.

“No,” Keep said.

“Were you
followed?”

Brew shook his
head. He didn’t say a thing. Either a form of respect or an untasted threat.

“Good.” Thorne
nodded to the door. “Leave us.”

My brothers
hesitated as long as they dared, but even Keep’s tensed muscles and Brew’s
gruff exhale presumed too much within Thorne’s presence. They gave me three
seconds—enough time for my gasped breath and an infinity of crashing
heartbeats—as their apology. I didn’t know if they were cowards for leaving me
or if they were smart to turn away so quickly. Thorne’s wrath was a worse
consequence than the violation of their little sister.

Keep nudged me
as he turned away. I ignored the touch. Thorne noticed.

“Close the door
after you,” he said.

Brew swore, but
Keep pushed him into the hall. The door scraped shut. The latch clicked.

I stilled. My
chest weighed heavy with silenced songs and muted fear. I stared at Thorne, but
I imagined more than just the man before me.

In Thorne, I saw
the rushing pavement barreling toward my head.

The trail of
smoke coiling from a recoiling gun.

A prince donning
leathers and denim instead of a cape, searching for the princess who left her
helmet at the patch-over gala.

A monster.

A devil.

A man who made
my heart pound in terror and crash against my chest with the secrets I sang
only in songs.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a
request. He didn’t stand or pull the chair out. He didn’t wave a friendly hand.
Didn’t smile.

My refusal
tasted so good on my tongue I decided to keep it clenched between my teeth. Better
to let Thorne think he intimidated me than reveal the desperation simmering in
my silence.

I slid across
from him. Close enough to study the worn scratches on his vest, to sense the
strength resting within his stretched-taut shirt, and to savor the baritone of
his voice harmonizing in my thoughts.

The quiet broke
me. I didn’t have the courage to stare him down, but I had more pride than to
lower my head and allow his appraisal. The breathy whisper was not the pitch I
wanted, but, cast upon his altar, it was fortunate I didn’t simply scream.

“What do you
expect from me?”

Thorne’s gaze
shifted over my body. “What are you offering?”

I swallowed. “Nothing.”

“What a
bargain.”

“You wanted me
here. I’m here.”

“Your brothers
were very prompt.”

I savored a
particularly harsh remark and tucked it deep within my chest. “They kicked my
door in, packed my bags, and dragged me here.”

The twitching of
his lip was a remnant of a smile that might have once been attractive—before
the prison term and the violence, the responsibilities of the club and the
retaliation that consumed his every desecrated breath.

“They always
were loyal.”

“Right. After
today, I’m not sure I would consider them my brothers.”

“We’ll see.”

The weight
binding my chest only constricted my words in a hush of panic. I ignored his
gaze.

“I’m not a
whore,” I said.

Thorne leaned
away, resting his arm on the edge of his chair. His shirt stretched taut over
his strength. The leather cut rode stiff over his muscles.

“I didn’t call
you a whore.”

“And forcing my
brothers to
deliver
me to you?  In the middle of the night? Bringing me
to your
bedroom
?”

“You can take
your clothes off if you like. It’d make this conversation more interesting.”

“And if I
don’t?”

“Then you stay
dressed.” His eyes narrowed, a threat of chilled indifference. “I’m not going
to fuck you.”

I flinched at
the word, but I leapt at the sincerity in his voice.

“You aren’t?”

“Disappointed?”

“I—no.” I
swallowed before my voice warbled into a new octave. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to
understand?”

“You’re
just...offering me protection?”

Thorne tapped
his fingers next to the gun. “Are you refusing?”

“I don’t think I
can.”

“You’d be
right.”

“I’m not sure what
my brothers told you—”

Thorne didn’t
need to speak or move to interrupt me. The sting of his stare stole my words. “They
told me everything I needed to hear. You need to be kept safe.”

“So you’re...my
bodyguard?”

“Unless you’d
rather be my prisoner?”

I shook my head.

“Then we’ve come
to an understanding.”

I sucked in a
breath. “No, we haven’t. I don’t know why I need protecting. Or why you have to
do it. Or why I’m even at Pixie.”

“This is where
I’m staying,” Thorne said. “And you’re here because you’re staying with me.”

“Where?”

He gestured over
the room.

“Here?”

He nodded.

My gaze graced his
most ominous piece of furniture.

“There’s only
one bed here.”

Thorne grinned.

“I told you I’m
not a whore.”

He didn’t look
away from me. “You could sleep in the bar with all the other men tonight, but I
don’t think you’d get much rest out there either. You’ve grown up...
Bud
.”

God damn it. I
pushed away from the table, but his voice thickened with unrepentant command.

“We’re not done.
Sit down.”

The chair
recaptured me. I wondered if Thorne needed ropes and chains to restrain
someone, or if he’d bend their own will to strap them down.

He hadn’t
threatened me. Hadn’t even raised his voice. But Thorne ruled as though
everything he touched, everything he wanted, anyone he saw, belonged to him. And
it wasn’t stage presence. Even my best performances of my own original material
would be lost within his conquest.

I didn’t need a
patch to harbor my demons. My own scarred monster burrowed within me. Doubt.
Uncertainty. Submission. It was far easier to surrender to an authority like
his than it was to admit the shame of admiration I felt in his shadow.

His power
enthralled me. And, like everything anathema, offering myself to his will would
lose me to the very hells of the world.

His studied me. He
wasn’t old—only mid-thirties. His hair hadn’t even started to gray like Brew’s.
He let it grow long, though his thick jaw cleared of even the faintest stubble.
Meticulous with a blade. I didn’t need to wonder where he learned the steady
hand.

“What do you
want from me?” I asked.

“I was going to
ask the same question.”

“Because you’re
so magnanimous?”

“I live to
serve,” Thorne shrugged. The rise of his broad shoulders only made him appear
larger. “What is it that you want most?  If you’re a good girl, I might make it
happen.”

“I want to go
home.”

“No.”

“You can’t just
keep me here.”

“I already am.” He
offered me a heavy moment of silence while he surveyed the table. “Seems pretty
damn easy actually.”

I wished his
voice hadn’t carried the insult so smoothly. It layered on me, sticky.

“This is exactly
what I mean,” I said. “I want to go home. I want to leave this place. I want to
be rid of this godforsaken MC.”

Thorne laughed. “Why? 
Anathema has been good to you.”

“Like hell.”

“You’re still
breathing. That’s a perk of this godforsaken club.”

“And the only
reason I might be in danger is because of
your
feud with The Coup.”

“Danger exists
everywhere.” Thorne’s amusement preached a secret he hadn’t yet revealed. “Consider
us...firefighters. We don’t blame the fire. We just make it our job to put it
out.”

“This is not
like firefighting, and you know it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“This club ruins
the life of everyone it touches. My mother is dead because of the runs you organized,
Keep is following in her footsteps, and Brew’s been in jail
three
times
now. I didn’t even meet him until I was four years old.”

Thorne nodded. “And
your father?”

I swallowed
before the bile rose into my throat. “Jail too.”

“Don’t blame
your family’s troubles on Anathema.”

“What family?” I
asked. “The club took my family.”

“You have two
brothers who love you enough to see you protected.”

“Is that what
this is?  A demonstration of their love?”

“I haven’t smacked
that smart mouth of yours yet. Consider that a demonstration of their respect.”
Thorne’s jaw tensed as I adopted the silence he so desired. “Anathema hasn’t
stolen your brothers. The drugs did though.”

I looked away.

“Keep’s in
trouble.”

I shrugged. “I
guess.”

“He was clean
before.”

“Probably
because he couldn’t afford to kill himself.”

“And he can
afford it now?”

“If Anathema’s
dealing, he’s sampling the merchandise.”

“We aren’t
dealing. Or supplying,” Thorne said. “And his preferred brand isn’t cheap.”

“Whatever he’s
doing, he’s not...as bad as he was a few years ago. If I wanted a guitar when I
was fifteen, he’d never have parted with the money.”

“But he has
enough to spend now?”

My sigh tore
through my chest like I expelled razor blades. “Look. I gave the money back,
okay?  Ask Keep what
brand
he wants to waste it on. I won’t take blood
money and I won’t watch my brother kill himself.”

“What’s Brew
think?”

“He told me to
keep the money and guitar.”

Thorne’s laugh
was unexpected. “You and this fucking music.”

I matched his
cold smirk. “You and this fucking club.”

“Careful.”

I crossed my
arms. “Why am I even here?  My brothers could have watched over me. What do you
want with me?”

“What if I said
I wanted the company?”

“I’d find that
hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“You looked cozy
enough with that blonde. Doesn’t look like she’d let you get lonely.”

“Lyn?” Thorne
winked. “She’s not the cuddling type. She owns Sorceress. You know it?”

“My brothers
have mentioned it.”

Thorne watched
me squirm. “You wanna go?”

Now I blushed. “No
thanks.”

“You sure?  You
could use a little fun.”

“Not that kind
of fun.”

He leaned back,
studying me once more. “Your dad always wanted you up on stage.”

My heart thudded
to stone then shattered into dust in my chest. I hesitated, but the silence
rang louder than even the most untimely cymbal crash.

“He...” I sucked
in a breath. “He thought I’d end up dancing.”

I left it unsaid
that it was what he hoped for me. Thorne perked an eyebrow.

“Dad didn’t like
me going into music.”

“But you did
anyway.” His voice rumbled, the quiet before the gravel peel out and race. “Rebellious,
aren’t you?”

“I’m good at
what I do. Nothing is going to stop me from succeeding.” I met his gaze,
enduring the threat of steel in his eyes. “I’m going to my gig on Friday.”

He shook his
head. “I’m not your brothers, sweetheart. You want a favor, you better be
willing to offer me more than that fucking pout.”

“I’m not
sleeping with you.”

“What a shame.”

I stood. “I need
to play this gig!”

“The club is in
Ex’s territory. It’s dangerous.”

“This is my
career
.”

“Don’t have much
of a career without a guitar.”