Den of Vipers

When I wake up, warm, satisfied, and yawning, Ryder is gone. I remember him carrying me into his room, into his space and cuddling me. But he’s gone, and all evidence of our time together is absent, apart from the ache between my thighs and the bite marks on my chest. Lifting the sheet, I see they’re still there, red and raw. It makes me smirk.

It was fucking amazing what we did. I came so hard, I couldn’t even see, and watching that ice melt into pure desire was addicting. All those walls hide such an explosive person underneath, and I have no idea how he does it. Turning over, the sheets wrapping around me like silk, I look out of the window to see the sun almost setting. Shit, did I sleep all day? Usually, I’m up after a few hours to open the bar, but I’m getting lazy being here.

Slipping from the bed, I grab one of his white shirts and do it up before sneaking downstairs. Unluckily for me, Garrett and Diesel are there. Garrett is shoving something into a bag at the table while Diesel watches. They both turn at my entrance. Diesel’s smoking, his eyes running over my body. Garrett looks at what I’m wearing in disgust. Ever since the restaurant, he’s distant again, almost disgusted with me…or him, I’m not sure.

“Where are you going?” I ask, knowing I have no reason to be ashamed of what I did with Ryder.

“None of your fucking business,” Garrett snaps.

“To a fight. We’re going to see if we can find anything else and plant a few rumours. Want to come?” Diesel questions, ignoring Garrett’s snarls.

“Sure, let me get dressed.” I grin.

Garrett slams his hands into the table. “She’s not fucking coming, she can stay here with the guards until Kenzo and Ryder get back from work.”

“Nah, that’s boring, I’m coming,” I offer with finality before turning and trotting away.

“Fuck’s sake!” I hear him yell. Wow, someone is pissy today. Maybe he needs this fight, might help him with his anger issues.

I have a quick wash before getting ready. I slip into some ripped shorts and one of the new shirts they bought me, tying it so my stomach is exposed. I put on some makeup and my kickass boots and I’m ready to go. I grab my leather jacket and slide my knife into it before heading out to meet them.

Garrett takes one look at me and storms through the front door. Diesel laughs and grabs me. “This will be fun.”

We ride down in the elevator in tense silence. I spot Tony and Sam at the bottom so I wave, but Diesel drags me to the car. I get in the back with Diesel and stay quiet as Garrett peels out of the garage. We drive for around twenty minutes before pulling up at another parking structure. He cuts the engine and climbs out without a word. I follow after him, the slamming of my door loud in the car park. Diesel meets me around the front of the car, while Garrett is already reaching the side door of the building with his long strides. He bangs on it twice, and it opens, music and screams pouring out.

“Who are they?” the greasy man barks, looking at me with a leer. Garrett steps into his path, blocking me from his view.

“With me.”

The man snorts but steps back. “I got a slot up in ten, get ready.” With that, he’s gone.

Garrett glances back at me and seems to debate something before sighing. “Stay close.”

I reach forward and clutch the back of his shirt. He freezes before ignoring me and winding through the crowd. The music is loud, the sound of flesh hitting flesh audible even from here. Garrett smacks and shoves people to get through, and Diesel follows to stop people from pushing me.

When we reach the front, Garrett’s head cranes before he heads over to some old crates in the corner of the ring. He turns, grabs my hips, and drops me on top of one. “Stay here, do not fucking move, and shout if you need anything,” he orders.

I nod, and he steps back before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it at me. I catch it automatically, even as I drool at his chest. The scars make me wiggle uncomfortably as my pussy pulses. He’s a goddamn machine, and his torso is carved for girls’ wet dreams. I hold his shirt on my lap as he turns and kicks off his boots, and then he lays his weapons on my lap before, with one more narrow-eyed look at me, he heads to the ring where someone is being dragged from it, unconscious.

“I’m going to see what I can hear, stay right here. I’ll have my eyes on you at all times,” Diesel murmurs, before dropping a kiss on my cheek and blending in with the crowd. I look for him, but I can’t spot him through the throng. However, like he said, I can feel his eyes on me, as well as others. I turn and meet their stares. They’re confused as to who I am, but no one dares approach me, and honestly, I don’t blame them. I walked in with Diesel and Garrett—two scary fucking bastards.

Even if they don’t know who they are, they can sense the danger, so they stay clear. Garrett is up next, and they announce him as Mad Dog before a really big guy steps into the crude ring opposite him.

Then, I can’t drag my eyes away from him. He needed this, I realise, to let some anger out. This isn’t a game or a way to gain information. He needed to fight like he needed to breathe. His body is finally relaxing, his shoulders rolling as he cracks his neck, and a nasty smile curls his lips.

My pussy basically starts a Garrett fan club then, pom poms and all.

He waits for the other man to move first, the crowd screaming his name, but they all fade away as I watch the bunching of his back muscles, knowing he’s going to move. He ducks the punch, dancing backwards on light feet, teasing his opponent.

“Hey, hot stuff, want to party?” a voice slurs in my ear.

I jerk my head around and realise I was so distracted, a man has snuck up on me. He grins, flashing crooked yellow teeth at me. His slicked back hair is greasy and unkempt, his blue eyes are lackluster, and his skin is pale and clammy. A junkie. I would recognise the signs anywhere without having to see the track marks. “Get lost,” I snap, knowing Diesel will be over soon.

“Aww, come on, I can show you a good time,” he mumbles, and grabs my leg—on my bare thigh. Before Diesel can kick his ass, I clutch his hand, twist it back, snap his wrist, and use it as leverage to turn him around.

“Do not fucking touch me, you piece of shit, or I’ll kill you, understand?” I snarl, and push him away.

He howls but glares at me, stumbling closer, his bad wrist held against his chest. I pull back my fist and slam it into his face before grabbing Garrett’s gun and clicking off the safety. Pressing it to his forehead, I meet his eyes with an ice-cold glare. I will pull this trigger without hesitation. I don’t fucking care. “I’ll kill you, can you see it in my eyes?” He nods, fear wafting from him. “Good, better run before I do.”

He stumbles away, swearing as he pushes through the crowd that gathered to watch. I watch his progress until he’s near the door, then he disappears. Turning back, I realise the fight is paused. Garrett is watching me, his eyes heated with desire and anger. He nods, and I nod back, letting him know I’m okay. A small smile curves his lips as he turns to his opponent.

The crowd starts cheering again then, but they make sure to give me space. It’s strange, them being afraid of me when Garrett is in the room. But I keep the gun close in case anyone tries anything else. You can never be too careful in the underbelly of the city, and that’s exactly where I am. I might be with the Vipers, but I refuse to sit here looking pretty while someone attacks me. I can handle myself, and I will kill if I need to.

I go back to watching Garrett fight, but somewhere in the crowd, I hear a male scream that makes me smile. I’m betting Diesel has found the man. What a shame. Eventually, the crowd relaxes around me, their attention back on Garrett, who’s kicking fucking ass. It’s hot as hell to watch, and I have to clench my thighs together, my lip caught between my teeth as I watch him. No wonder they call him Mad Dog. The crowd’s whispers drift to me. I hear some saying that I’m the Vipers’ girl and not to mess with me unless they want to turn up dead, which makes me laugh.

I guess they aren’t wrong.

I hear other rumours, spoken out of jealousy and fear, the words murmured as they glance back at me, knowing I’m with the Vipers. I try to listen, but after I hear a few snippets of conversation about a disembowelled man and a massacre, I focus on the fight again. Garrett is a machine. Fucking art in motion. His body is a giant weapon, each hit strategically placed and filled with such power that I can see it. His style is raw and wild, his anger leaking out.

It takes him over completely until he barely sees his opponent, he just fights. Getting all that aggression out. They have to hold him back twice as they switch his challengers, but he wins each fight, and when he’s done, he’s sweating. His chest is heaving, his hands are covered in blood, and his face is dark. He ignores the applause and dramatics, instead leaping from the ring and heading over to me. He plucks his bag from the ground.

“Diesel?” he snaps, his face dripping sweat which I have the strangest urge to lick.

“He was listening in,” I offer, just as the man in question appears next to us.

“Let’s go.” He nods, and Garrett storms away. The crowd parts for him as I hop down. Diesel drapes his arm around me as we follow the angry man. Everyone watches us in fear and respect, and I tilt my chin higher at that.

Diesel drives home, and Garrett ignores us the entire way, his head turned as he glares out of the window. When we get back, he prowls through the apartment and to his room, slamming the door behind him. Diesel slips away as well, and I’m caught in the hallway, unsure what to do.

For some reason, I follow Garrett, feeling like he needs me. I open his door and slip through to see him standing there, his body taut and angry, his feet bare. He whirls and glares at me. “What?”

“Are you okay? Want me to look at your hands?” I offer sweetly, softly, like you would approach a wild animal.

“Fuck off,” he snarls and turns away again, as if he can’t bear to look at me.

So I step into the room and slam the door. He wants a fight, then fine. “No, want to talk about it?”

“About what?” he snaps, his built shoulders tensing and drawing up, preparing to argue.

“The thing eating you up?” I press, leaning back against the wall.

He spins and rushes me, slamming me into the wall. His arms land on either side of me, caging me in as he leans closer and glares at me. “I told you to fuck off!” he roars in my face.

But his eyes are lost, wild, searching, and hurting. He’s heartbroken. “Let me help,” I whisper.

His eyes close for a moment. “You can’t, no one can. I hate that you saw me like that…” He trails off. With a self-disgusted snarl, he rips away from me, his hands running through his hair as he starts to pace.

That’s what he cares about? That I saw him lose control? Oh, my damaged Viper. “I enjoyed it. Watching you beat the shit out of those people? It was hot,” I admit, unashamed that I was turned on as I observed him.

He ignores me, so I carry on, trying to pull him out of his self-hatred. “Really, it was. All that power in your body, it’s sexy as hell. The way they look at you, the way they fear you…you’re untouchable.”

He stops, his back to me, chest heaving.

“I want you,” I state, taking a shot.

He shudders, so I step around him, my eyes meeting his, knowing I’ll have to take the first step with him.

“I’m wet from watching you.”

“Get out before I kill you,” he warns, but there is desperation in his voice, he doesn’t want me to leave.

He doesn’t mean it, I can see it in his face, in his eyes. He wants me to stay, he wants me to fight this for him, with him. Help me. I see it written across his features. I wonder if no one else has ever looked under all those layers of anger to the scared, damaged man crying out for help underneath.

His fights, his anger, all a way to protect himself.

He needs someone to push him, to rip him out of it, but it might just kill them to do so…then why am I willing to try?

He’s my captor. My enemy. But I can’t walk away from him.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. You want this too, want me. So why not just give in?” I grin.

“What makes you think I want you when I can’t even stand to look at you? When I hate you? Hmm? Tell me, baby, what makes you think you’re so fucking special that I would fuck you? Or let you touch me?” he grinds out.

I revel in his anger, refusing to be intimidated and back away like everyone else. He’s lashing out due to fear, due to anger. I know that, ’cause I do it myself. “Because you’re hard, because you watch me when you think I don’t notice, because you imagine fucking me, even if you hate it.” I lay the challenge down, and he doesn’t disappoint as I reach out to touch him.

With a snarl, he grabs my wandering hands before they can touch his chest and wrenches them behind my back, forcing me upright, back bowed as he leans down. Hatred and need gleams in his eyes. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me, or I will kill you. You want me? You’re so desperate for cock that Ryder and Kenzo ain’t enough? Fine.” He drags me over to the shower stall in the bathroom.

With one rough, scarred, bleeding hand, he rips off my top and shorts and tosses them away, his eyes running across my skin in disgust before he flicks on the water. He kneels down, still holding me, and grabs my boots, throwing them behind him before getting back to his feet, his hand tightening on my wrist so it hurts. Pushing me down to my knees, he ties my shirt around my hands at the base of my spine so I can’t touch him. I’m unbalanced, kneeling on my heels before him as he sheds his shorts, his hard, naked body before me. Every inch is stacked with muscle. His body is deadly, a weapon he uses every day. His chest isn’t ruined like he thinks, it’s a masterpiece of pain and suffering. The rest of him is so stunning, I can barely breathe. His cock is hard, long, and thick, and leaking and pointing right at me. Water rushes across me, plastering my hair to my head, cooling my overheated body.

I don’t care. He blocks the spray and grabs my head, forcing my mouth open before slamming his cock into it with no warning. It’s not polite, not that I would expect that from him. It’s cruel, a punishment for me and one for himself for wanting me.

I hold on as best as I can, just a puppet for him to use for his desire, like the outlet his fighting provides for his anger. He channels it all into me, his cock so hard and thick and long, he hits the back of my throat. I have no choice but to breathe through my nose as I roll my eyes up to his. He meets my gaze with a groan, his hips stuttering before he slams back into my mouth. Harder than before.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that. Like you want this,” he snaps, but I can’t help it. I do. Each hard stroke of his cock in my mouth has me wiggling on the cold tile, my pussy dripping.

He takes what he wants, it’s rough and hard. My lips bleed from it, his movements filled with hate and disgust…and lust. He pounds into my mouth, uncaring if he hurts me, and when his thighs clench, his abs rolling, he roars his release, shooting it down my throat. With a disgusted snarl he pushes me away, slipping from my mouth. Licking my damaged lips, I watch as he turns and, without a word, strides from the shower. His ass flexes as he pushes out of the room, the door almost ripping from the hinges in his rush to escape me.

He leaves me there, wet and bound, with tears tracing down my face and blood and cum spilling from my lips, my own wetness dripping between my thighs.

That’s how Diesel finds me. He takes one look and whistles. Flicking off the water, he crouches down, his thumb rubbing at my aching lips, unconcerned about the cum. “Keep pushing, Little Bird. You’re the only one who can get through to him, and if you don’t, we might lose him forever.” He undoes my bindings, gently lifts me into his arms, and cleans me off before taking me back to my room and tucking me in.

It’s soft and sweet, and brings tears to my eyes. This crazy bastard is growing on me. Who would have thought, and what did he mean about Garrett?

I know he hates women. It’s easy to see somewhere in his past, one hurt him. Badly. Did she just turn down his proposal? Is that what the ring was? No, it’s something worse, I can feel it. But I doubt he will tell me. It’s clear, though, Garrett is trying to hold himself back from me, but like two crashing cars, we’re drawn to each other.

Who will make it out alive?