Текст книги "Reclaimed "
Автор книги: River Savage
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RECLAIMED
River Savage
RECLAIMED
©2015
Reclaimed is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
First eBook edition: February 2015
Edited by Becky Johnson, Hot Tree Editing
Cover design ©: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations
Image: stockphoto.com
Formatting by Max Henry at Max Effect
Information address: [email protected]
CONTENTS
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
DEDICATION
To Gilly.
For sharing your story. For inspiring me.
May Max know how beautiful your journey has been.
I love you, friend.
xxx
NOTE TO READER
Dear reader,
This is a novella and features the characters from the previous storyline.
The events of Reclaimed take place after Incandescent and Affliction. Book one and two in the Knights Rebels MC.
To get the full advantage of the story, and character development, I strongly suggest you read in order.
Happy reading.
River x
PROL OGUE
Nix
“I’m pregnant,” she rushes out just as I feel her pussy clench around the two fingers I have planted deep inside of her.
“What?” I look up, frozen in the moment as the shock of her words run through me. I’m pregnant. My face stills between my wife’s legs, her tightness still grips my fingers while her delicious pussy juices cover my mouth and chin. Even in this moment, she’s still fucking greedy.
“I’m pregnant,” she repeats, but even after the second time she says it, it doesn’t fully register. I’m going to be a dad, again? I sit back on my legs, totally lost in the news that my wife has my child in her belly. “Are you going to say anything, Nix?” she asks when I don’t respond. “Nix.” She tries to pull away, pulling me out of my frozen stare.
“Be quiet.” The order comes out as a growl as I slowly move up her body.
“Nix, what—” She starts to complain, but I cut her off when my body covers hers and her eyes come to mine.
“You’ve got my baby inside of you?” I ask, leaning down into her space. Her eyes search mine, maybe not expecting this reaction from me, but I can’t get a hold of it. Knowing she has my child inside of her has my head all over the fucking place.
“Yes,” she whispers, her green eyes filling with tears.
“How long have you known?” I question, my mind yelling at me to react calmly, to do something other than interrogate her.
“I found out this morning.” A slow smile spreads across her beautiful face, and each time I see it, I fall a little more in love with her.
“You waited all this time to tell me?” I can’t soothe the accusation in my voice.
“What’s wrong?” She tries to move, but I keep her firmly under me, where I can see her, touch her.
“You have my child inside of you and you fuckin’ waited all day to tell me?”
“Yes!” she snaps, rolling to the left to get away from me. Fuck, I’m fucking this up.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I sit up and watch her carefully. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. She’s pregnant. Fucking pregnant with my child. My stomach knots in elation, but my head can’t get over the fact that she kept quiet all day, rode on the back of my bike today, and tells me while I eat her out, my fingers encased in her heat. Fuck.
“I’m telling you now, asshole,” she snaps and moves to leave our bed. Her anger excites me, stirs my dick. It’s pretty fucking messed up, but that’s what I love about this woman; she fucking loves hard, and passionately.
“Where are you going?” I ask, lost in her anger and how it affects me.
“Away from you,” she huffs, and even when she’s pissed, I know I can make her melt under me. Two minutes, tops.
“Get back here.” I pull her back to the bed, positioning her under me.
“You're being an ass,” she complains, refusing to make eye contact. She’s right. I am, but it’s not every day your wife tells you she’s carrying your child.
“No, baby. I’m being a man who just found out that his wife was keeping the most fan-fucking-tastic news from him all day.”
“I was trying to find the right time,” she says to the far wall, and I smirk at her sulking.
“The right time would have been the minute you found out.” I take her chin in my fingers and force her to look at me.
“That would have been lame.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell by her reaction, she’s caving. “I wanted to do something sweet.” She loses her attitude and I know what she needs from me.
“I don’t need sweet, baby. I got you.” I lean down and take her lips with mine in a soft, gentle kiss.
“Don’t use your lines on me, Mr. Knight.” She sighs as I move down her body. My head lines up with her belly.
“You got my baby here?” My hands find her belly. A need like no other runs through me, an instinct telling me I need to protect her, protect them. Her hands move to her stomach, one covering mine.
“Yeah, baby. You’re gonna be a daddy again.” Her voice is thick with emotion and I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m lost in the moment. Me, naked with my wife, in our bed, now knowin’ she carries my unborn child.
“Fuck, I love you, Kadence,” I look up at her and watch a tear crawl down her face. “You fuckin’ give me light, baby, give me so much fuckin’ light I don’t know what to do with it. But this,” I look down toward her stomach, passing the scars that mar her side, “nothing could ever compare. Nothing. Givin’ me somethin’, somethin’ we made, somethin’ of you and me. Fuck, Kadence, I don’t know if I want to sink my cock in you and fuck you hard, or hold you and cry.” Fuck, I’m a fucking pussy.
“Don’t cry, babe.” Sitting up, she takes my face in her hands.
“You ruined me, woman. Fucking ruined me. I promise you, I’m gonna be the best daddy.” I kiss her hard and she takes it all as her tears hit my lips.
“I already know, Nix. If our baby has half the love you show Z, he or she will be blessed.” She pulls back to wipe her face.
“If you show half the love you’ve shown my son, our son, then this baby will know nothing but goodness,” I counter, ‘cause it’s the truth. This woman is my fucking light. I’m the luckiest son-of-a-bitch around, and with my child growing in my wife’s belly, our family is complete.
CHAPT ER ONE
Nix
Ten Months Later
“Kadence, did you hear me?” I stop at the threshold of our kitchen and watch as my wife stands at the sink. Her long hair sits disheveled on top of her head; knots and frizz hidden by the quick up do. Long gone is the happy, carefree woman who nearly knocked me on my ass with just a smile that afternoon in my son’s classroom.
“Huh?” She looks up from the foamy water, her eyes catching mine, but it’s like they don’t lock. Void of any emotion, as if she’s looking straight through me. I have no idea if she even realizes I’ve been standing here for five minutes.
“I need to go to the club.” I repeat my first statement and walk toward her.
“W-what?” She shakes her head out of the fog she seems to have settled into since Harlow was born.
“Shit’s goin’ down with one of Beau’s girls. I have to sort it out,” I lie to her, stopping at the counter to give her time to process.
“You can’t leave!” Her voice quivers as she drops the cup she’s been cleaning for five solid minutes and wipes her hands down the front of one of my old club tees, and her ratty yoga pants. “Harlow will be awake soon, Nix.” Her eyes flash with panic and her voice fills with distress. Just like every other time she has panicked with the apprehension of being left alone. I don’t know when it began, when our perfectly constructed life started to fall around us, but over the last seven weeks, something has changed. Something I wasn’t prepared for.
“You’ll be fine, baby. We talked about this,” I try to reason with her, but I know no matter what I say, it won’t make a difference; it never does. Kadence will freak. She’ll break and then she will act like everything is fine. The sooner I get this done, the better.
“Nix, I can’t.” Her shaky voice almost brings me undone, but I have to stay strong; this is the plan. “You can’t leave me alone with her. What if she cries and doesn’t…” she trails off, her eyes growing large as she concocts some fucked-up shit in her head. “Oh, God, don’t do this to me. I need you. Don’t leave me.” She walks forward into my space, her hands coming to my leather cut. I see the shake in them before she touches me, can feel the panic in them as she holds me tightly against her. My wife is so fucking lost—lost in her own world of hopelessness. I don’t even know how I can help.
“Z is here. You’ll be fine.” I try to reassure her with the news that she won’t be alone entirely. I know Z is only eleven, he should be doing what other kids his age are doing, but leaving him home will make it easier on me, on all of us.
“But Z can’t help me like you. What if I do something wrong?” Even the way she asks that question has my heart breaking. How could she think she will fuck this up?
Taking her shoulders in my hands, I bend at the waist, get in her face and lock my eyes with hers. “Kadence, I have to go. You’ve got this, babe. I’ll be thirty minutes,” I try to encourage her, while watching her reaction carefully. I know this situation is fucked. I’ve been living it the last seven weeks, but as much as I want to take her in my arms, tell her everything is okay, I can’t. I won’t tell her that, because it’s not. She’s not okay. We’re not okay. The longer I try to step around the issues, the longer it’s going to take for her to see that something is wrong. I need my wife back. I need that spark she brings to my gut when she smiles at me. I don’t know where or when I lost her, but the Kadence I know doesn’t live here anymore.
She looks up at me, disoriented. Her innocent eyes, bewildered, like I’m instructing her on the hardest mission she will ever encounter and it guts me. Where is the woman who took me by the balls and put me in my place? Where is the woman who stood before me, daring me to judge her and her scars? The proud woman I fell in love with is a shell of a woman, and like the coward I am, I don’t know if I can bear to look at her anymore.
“Thirty minutes,” I repeat, and then lean down, placing my lips to hers. Unlike in the past, when her body would mold into mine and her lips would accept me, I’m met with thin, lifeless lips instead of the softness I once knew. The hardness of her kiss leaves me feeling cold and does nothing to soothe the concern that builds inside of me daily. It does the opposite and proves to me that every one of my concerns are warranted.
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t leave me.” She holds on to me with a death grip and it’s then I realize that if I’m going to leave, I have to do it now.
“But I do, Kadence. I fuckin’ love you more than anythin’.”
“Then don’t leave.”
“Admit you need help,” I counter, praying she would open up to someone, to anyone.
“Just leave.” She pushes at my chest and I feel like a sorry excuse for a husband. A fucking failure who can’t even bring his own wife happiness anymore.
“You know I don’t want to, but I really have to go,” I continue to lie. I don’t have any shit going down in the club. In fact, life has been fucking great with the club. If only I could say the same with my marriage.
I have no fucking idea what I’m doing, no idea if I’m helping, or making it worse. The last thing I want to do is push her away, but the woman is already so far gone, I’m planning a search and rescue party as we speak.
“I have my cell.” I turn when she doesn’t reply and I force myself not to look back into her eyes. I can’t let her deter me. I walk out of the kitchen and find Z in the front of the TV.
“You look after our girls, yeah, bud?” I ask, swallowing the sting of deceit of what I’m doing to them all. He pauses his game and turns to face me. His green eyes light up at the task.
“You got it.” He puffs out his eleven-year-old chest and a small smile falls on my lips. Jesus, I love this kid.
“Love you,” I call before I close the door, shutting out his reply. I walk the path to the front drive and mount my Harley.
“Fuck!” I shout out to the quiet street, needing to release my frustration. “Fuck, man, keep it together,” I berate myself, knowing I’m doing what I need to do for my wife, for my family.
“You’re not leaving her. You’re helping,” I remind myself, starting the bike up to block out the reply I’m sure to come up with.
Helping her.
If only I knew how to help her.
CHAPT ER TWO
Kadence
“He left,” I whisper to the empty kitchen. I don’t know if I was expecting a reply, but the heaviness of the truth sits painfully on my chest. Oh, God, he left. Trepidation courses through my body and threatens to overwhelm me, bringing me to my knees as I sink to the floor. I don’t understand the uneasiness of my emotions. I don’t understand how I can go from riding in a bliss of new baby smell, to feeling like I’m walking blindly in a fog so thick I can’t see five inches in front of me.
How could he just leave like this? He knows I can’t be left alone. He left when I begged him not to. A prickly sensation of hysteria claws at my heart, squeezing harder and harder until drawing a breath becomes too painful. I can’t do this. What if she wakes up? My eyes drift to the cordless phone, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter. Moving slowly, as my heart pounds in my chest, I crawl over and reach up, snagging it first go. Controlling the small tremble that begins in my hand, I dial the first number that comes from my fingers.
Holly. My best friend.
She will come. She always comes.
“Hello.” She answers on the third ring and I can already hear the smile in her voice, but I don’t have time to process this new resentment that spreads through me every time I hear her so happy.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I try to come across as composed, but in reality, I’m anything but. My mind and body have been putting on a show for the last few weeks, and I'm tired. So fucking tired, I don’t even know how much longer I can keep going.
“I’m just out with Sy,” she replies, seemingly oblivious to the mild breakdown I’m having on the floor of my kitchen.
“Doesn’t Sy have to get to the club for the club meet?” I question, finding the perfect opening to get her to come over.
“Um, yeah. We’re about to head there now.” I hear rustling and a muffled voice in the background but can’t make out who is talking.
“Well, get Sy to drop you off before,” I suggest, keeping the pleading out of my voice.
“We can’t. Sy needs to get straight there.” She shuts down my suggestion. The panic collars me, causing me to hyperventilate. An invisible force threatens to drag me down into a hole so deep I fear no one can hear my screams for help.
“Holly,” I begin as the first sounds of Harlow’s whimpers startle me through the crackle of the monitor.
“Oh, is that Low? I’ll let you go,” she says, and before I can beg for help, she’s gone.
Oh, God, what am I going to do now? I let the phone drop to the floor as Harlow’s little murmurs turn into cries. Cries that I can’t handle.
“Kadence, Low is awake,” Z calls out from the living room.
“Yeah, I know, bud. I’ll meet you up there,” I wheeze out, forcing myself to get it together at least for the kids’ sake.
“Hey, baby Low. How you doin’?” I hear Z murmur to his baby sister through the monitor. Her cries stop as she hears her brother’s voice, and if I wasn’t in total breakdown mode, I would smile at how much she already loves him. If only she loved me like that. If only I could bring that love to her.
I check the clock sitting above the fridge in front of me. It’s only been seven minutes. Seven whole minutes. Seven minutes which feel like a lifetime.
“You coming, Kadence?” Z calls again, antsy to play with his sister. We only have one rule, one rule I’m strict on, and that’s he can’t pick Harlow up out of the crib without me or Nix there. He knows this, so he will be waiting for me to come in for her.
Mindful that the longer I take to get to the kids, the worse it will be for all of us; I gradually pick myself up and force myself to go to my children.
The trek up the carpeted stairs takes longer than normal. The sound of Z’s voice and Harlow’s cries growing with each step I climb. I stop at the decorated door, a pink plaque hangs in the center; purple letters adorned in golds and pinks spell out her name. Slowly, I drag a long breath through my nose and try to calm myself before I push the door open and force myself to enter.
“Here’s momma,” Z comforts his sister, his knuckle in her mouth as she tries to suck.
“Hey.” I force a smile, knowing if anyone else was here, they would see past my fake bullshit. Not Z, not my sweet Z though.
Moving toward the honey-stained oak crib, I catch the first glimpse of her dark curls. I remember when she was born, the first thing I noticed was her dark hair. Just like her father’s. Then she opened her eyes and it was like falling in love in slow motion. Reaching the side of the crib, I peer over and watch as those same eyes come to mine. Green, vibrant and just like her father’s. They still melt me each time I see them.
Halting me for a moment, I watch her take everything in around her. These moments, the ones like this, when she looks up at me, her small face recognizing and knowing me, this is what I had envisioned when I thought about becoming a mother, when I grew her in my belly. But these moments are fleeting, barely satisfying me anymore. I love Harlow more than anything, but I’m exhausted. I’m afraid and I feel alone. I’m tired of hiding my despair that I’m not a good mother, or that I’m going to fail her. Even if she does melt my heart, it doesn’t stop me from questioning. Am I enough? The hopelessness grows day by day, while an unrelenting force keeps pushing me down, lower, deeper and heavier and even on the days I want to fight it, I can’t.
“Hey, Low.” I smile awkwardly and stand there not understanding how irresolute I had become.
“She seems really hungry,” Z prompts, forcing me to bend at the waist, and pick her up from her crib. I keep myself in check, needing to get through the next twenty minutes. You can’t fuck this up when you’re her mother, I remind myself as I place her gently down on the matching oak change table and focus on changing her diaper.
Even this task puts me on edge. Nix has been the one who’s been hands on the last seven weeks. I barely know what to do. It’s not that I don’t want to know, but more I don’t know how to want to. If it weren’t for the fact I’ve been trying hard to hide that I’m failing miserably at this mother gig, I would have the sense to ask Nix how he’s coping. It’s not that I don’t care how he is feeling, somewhere deep down inside of me, a small piece is dealing with guilt. Guilt for not caring enough, or for not being happy enough, hell, for not wanting any part of it. I don’t know what is happening to me. Spending my days tired, angry and in tears has become my normal. Low is everything I asked for, everything I need. So why does it feel like I have made a mistake?
Holly and my mom voiced their reassurances, suggesting I was just tired. Baby blues is what they called it. But I can’t help fear the question I keep asking myself: what if it’s more? Was having Harlow a mistake? Did I rush into things when I wasn’t ready? The same apprehensions flow through me now just as they have done the past few weeks. I can’t pinpoint the moment I realized being a mother wasn’t what I was expecting. Yeah, I read the books, searched the forums, but nothing really prepares you for what’s to come. No one tells you that having a baby could make you feel so out of control, or lonely. That small, everyday tasks would become insurmountable hurdles. No one tells you, you will spend your days worrying if you’re doing everything right, and your nights crying when you fail. But the most heartbreaking thing of all is the numbness. No one told me about the numb feeling, or that it would be the most excruciating pain I would ever experience, even if some days I didn’t care.
Shaking my head clear of the thoughts I can’t afford to have, I carefully pick up Harlow and sit down in the rocking chair that Nix’s father, Red, made for us. When we came home from the hospital with Low, our chair was waiting for us. A note attached telling me Red refurbished the same chair that Nix’s mother nursed in.
No one has ever made me a chair before, and the small act of love Red showed me makes me want to sit in the chair every day. But what I love most about our chair, is the sense of peace it gives me. It’s as if I’m chasing peace every second of my day, but when I sit in my rocking chair, the same chair I knew Nix was rocked in, peace never evades me.
“You want to give me fifteen minutes Z, then she’s all yours?” I ask Z.
“Sure.” He smiles, touching his sister’s head once more. “I’ll watch some TV.” He walks out not waiting for my reply.
“You’re not going to give me a hard time are you, Low baby?” I ask, looking down at her as she tries to pull at a stray hair which has fallen from my messy bun. Lifting my shirt, I unclasp my bra and pray to the breastfeeding gods that by some miracle, Harlow has learned how to latch on properly. Resting back, I position her in my arms and before her small pink lips encircle my nipple, the tears begin to fall because I know what’s about to happen. I know for the next fifteen minutes, I’ll endure the pain of what feeding my child does to me. The stinging will begin as pain shoots through my breast and I won’t be able to control the sob that rips from my mouth. I know I will have to resist the need to pull her away, and vow to not feed her anymore. Then the guilt will come, guilt knowing I can’t do anything right. I’ll try to fight the discontent that weighs heavy on my shoulders. Try to keep the thoughts that this is what she brought into my life away as a small piece of hate eats away at my soul. I fight all these demons alone and broken.
Her small hand will reach up and touch my face, but I’ll miss it all, because even if it’s the most beautiful thing in the world, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the pain and I can’t bear to look at my daughter.
I’m a terrible mother.
