Rise of the Phoenix (The Restless Kings Motorcycle Club Book 1) Read online

  "What?"

  "You're trying to look through me. What are you searching for?"

  He tossed the empty water bottle into a garbage can. "You're going to tell me what happened to your ribs."

  I rolled my eyes. "They don't like being elbowed. That's why I jumped."

  His eyes finally softened and he nodded. "Got it." He walked around to the other side of the bed, and climbed in, keeping his distance as much as possible. "Maybe I should've asked these questions when I had you cornered."

  Heat flooded my body as I remembered how his chest had pressed against my back, the way my fingers brushed against the front of his jeans. Jesus, this guy is making me crazy. "You told Mac I'm yours for the night, are you planning on sharing me with your club?" If he said yes, I’d have to find somewhere else to stay. I’d turned down the last offer to be saved by a biker, and I wouldn’t have a problem doing it again.

  Where would I go? I had no idea, but I wasn’t just going to stick around and be passed around the clubhouse. I’d spent years running away at every opportunity. I knew how to make it work.

  He laughed as he rolled onto his side and moistened his lips again. "Absolutely not, but they don't need to know that until Church tomorrow. I also don't have any plans to touch you tonight, or any night before that bruise is gone."

  I kept my expression in the same scowl I'd been wearing for hours, even as I pouted inside my head at the idea of not feeling his hands on me. Really, the man didn't seem so bad. Besides the arm twisting, which was probably more about sussing out if I had a weapon, he had been nothing but generous to me, and he certainly was easy on the eyes. If I had to guess, he was probably twenty-five.

  The tattoos in his flesh danced around in my mind. He had tattoos over most of his arms and chest, some colorful and some just black and white. I hadn’t recognized any of them besides his club image.

  I pulled the sheet over my shoulders and turned my back to him. Maybe he wasn't the enemy after all, and since he'd expressed a disinterest in my body for the time being, I felt comfortable not keeping my eyes on him. I was asleep within seconds.

  * * *

  My cheeks were wet, and I couldn't open my eyes. My fingers were burning in pain, clenched so tightly in something I thought I might've made them bleed. I was taking short, fast breaths, and my entire body was cloaked in a warmth that felt like another person.

  "Maya?"

  I whimpered as I buried my face deeper into his chest. I was too tired to fight back, to roll over, and when his hand grazed my back in a sleepy attempt at comforting me, I dropped back into slumber-ville.

  * * *

  I woke to the bright sun shining on me in a cold, empty bed. When I stretched, I groaned in pain. I was achy all over my body, especially the parts that had absorbed most of my roll down the highway- my hips. There were tiny scrapes covering most of my arms, but if we hadn't slowed down for that curve I would've been covered in road rash or dead. The bruise on my ribs was quite painful, but the sunburn was winning for first place at the moment. My shoulders, chest, face, and the tops of my ears all had burns on them, but I didn’t expect any blistering.

  The walls in this room were all light wood, and mostly bare. The mattress was outfitted in navy blue, and rested on stacked wooden pallets instead of a bed frame. The bed smelled like him, too- like leather and freedom. Just thinking about him made my heart rate pick up.

  I needed to get something to drink, and it looked fairly early so I thought maybe I'd get lucky and all the bikers would still be asleep. Even if they were awake, Knuckles couldn't have been far. I remembered seeing a kitchen when we walked in, beyond the smoke and the pool table. I unlocked the door, and poked my head out into the hallway. I didn't see anyone, and didn't hear any voices or sounds nearby.

  I shut the door behind me and walked down the stairs slowly, checking around me after every creaky step to make sure no one was watching me. I didn't know anyone besides Knuckles, and I really didn't know him all that well. Mac and Doc seemed amiable at least, but I didn't know if Knuckles' claim had worn off. The Kings weren't the worst bikers in the area- Aces were- but they were still 1%ers. That made walking around the clubhouse feel threatening.

  Wearing Property of was probably the only real way to stay safe around guys like these, and I was waltzing through their clubhouse in a soft matching set of navy green t-shirt and shorts. I made it to the bottom of the stairs without incident, and walked towards the kitchen. Everything looked so different in the daylight. There was no smoke, no bikers, and no loud music. It was surreal but welcoming. Soft yellow cabinets drew my attention, and I hoped I wasn't going to upset anyone by rummaging through them.

  I checked the fridge first, but it was only stocked with beer, not what I needed to quench my thirst. The first cabinet was full of shot glasses, small bamboo bowls, and napkins- probably for the bar area behind me. The second door I opened had plates along with glasses, but they were at the very top. I reached for a glass, but it was too high up. I planted my palm on the counter top and raised up onto my tiptoes, stretching my arm as far as possible. Just as my fingertips brushed the rim of the glass, a sharp smack hit my ass and an arm wrapped around my waist.

  "Let me get that for you, kitten," the man holding me said. I stared up at his face with wide eyes. He was extremely tall and lanky, and looked like he was too young to be a biker. His beard and long dark hair made him look like he was living off the grid, not just outside a major city.

  My dusty mouth couldn't find my voice, so I just stared at him.

  "Hey, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Tree. That's Knuckles' girl." I turned back to look at Mac, who grinned at me.

  Tree's arm dropped from my waist like I'd been set on fire. "There's not a mark on this one. How am I supposed to know?"

  "Come to Church sometime. Maybe you'll learn something." Mac walked back behind a door, and I saw a group of bikers sitting around a table.

  Tree handed me the glass he'd reached. "You shouldn't be roaming around the clubhouse all by yourself without an identifier."

  I turned back to look up at him. "A what?" I croaked.

  "Something to mark you as off-limits."

  "Oh. Thanks for the-"

  "No problem. Stay safe, little girl."

  "What the hell are you doing? Why aren't you at Church?" Knuckles called from behind me, and he sounded angry.

  I spun so fast I almost fell and Tree steadied me with a hand on the top of my arm.

  Knuckles' face grew more angry as his eyes fell to where Tree was touching me. "I suggest you remove your hand, brother. That's my girl."

  Tree moved away from me with his hands up in surrender. "I just found that out. She's probably got my handprint on her ass though. Didn't know she was yours."

  "Well, if you'd been in Church instead of fucking off you'd know. Pres wants you in there. Go." Knuckles looked at me as Tree walked past. As soon as the door shut behind Tree, Knuckles walked a little closer. "You okay? Did he hit you?"

  I rubbed the backs of my fingers over my stinging bottom, and cringed. The look in his eyes made my mouth stay shut, even though I was salivating at the sight of him.

  Knuckles closed the gap between us, and pushed my hips to the pool table. He pushed up the soft covering over my butt, and drew in a quick breath. "Bastard," he muttered, then his hand covered the mark and he rubbed it roughly. Surprisingly, his rough touch made the stinging go away. That could have all been in my head though as I pushed my hips back closer to him and he looped an arm around my waist. "Not here, not now," he whispered in my ear. "No one else should bother you, but you shouldn't stay down here long."

  I nodded my understanding.

  "Damn. You are gonna be trouble for me." He kissed the back of my neck as he pulled my shorts back down to cover me, and then walked away.

  I gawked at his patches as he went through the door that the other members were behind before spinning on my heel and marching back into the kitchen. I filled the glass up
with water, drank most of it, then refilled it and started up the stairs. Halfway up, a dark-skinned man stopped and looked at me.

  "Are you a house mouse?" He asked.

  "I… I don't know what that means. I'm…" I had to think for a moment to find another way to say I belonged to him, because I didn't think that was quite right. He kept calling me his, but I thought it was just to keep the other guys' hands off me. "I'm with Knuckles."

  "Oh, I didn't know Knuckles had a sweetie. I'm sorry, darlin'. I'm James, but you'll probably only hear me called Prospect. Don't tell him I called you a house mouse. I'm not trying to get my ass kicked again." He chuckled and grinned brightly at me. "Is Church over yet?"

  I filed away the word Church - right next to house mouse - in my list of questions I wanted to ask Knuckles when I saw him again, and shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

  "You want me to show you around?"

  "He told me not to be down there much longer." I didn't want to make him upset, but I had no idea what the expectations were of being whatever a ‘sweetie' was.

  "Okay. Well, if I can help you in any way, let me know."

  "Do you like it here?" I asked before I had time to think about what I was really saying and if it would offend him.

  "I do. It's a family- a really strong, close family. We're all here for each other, to protect each other. it's loyal, and there's always something to do or someone to talk to if you need it. Just make sure you don't burn anyone. You'll figure it out. Don't do anything stupid and don't flirt with the other members and you'll be fine."

  I nodded. "Thank you." Just as I took another step up, the door to Church opened, and the members filtered out of the door and around the pool table. Fear paralyzed me, and a little piece of me was waiting for Knuckles. He was one of the last two to come out, and when he saw me, he smiled.

  "Come here," he said, and his eyes pointed down to the spot directly in front of him.

  I carefully avoided the bikers heading upstairs as I made my way back down to stand in front of Knuckles.

  "Pres, this is Maya." He wrapped an arm around my back. "Maya, this is the President of the Kings."

  Pres was tall but wasn't as broad as most of the other guys I'd seen around the clubhouse. He didn't need to be. He was intimidating just standing in front of me. The way he held himself made me feel like I was required to do as he said. Standing next to Knuckles, Pres was lighter in skin tone but darker in mood. Was Pres one of the ones Knuckles compared me to? "Hi, Maya. Welcome to the clubhouse.”

  "Thank you."

  "Are you planning to stay for a while?"

  "I… I'm not sure. I don't actually know anyone else I could stay with, or anyone who would help me." Skipper would’ve helped me, if I hadn’t burned that bridge and shattered my phone.

  "I've got you," Knuckles said as he tightened his fingers around my hip.

  "You can hang around as long as you're with Knuckles. You go messing around on my boy and you'll be out of here," Pres said with a laugh.

  Knuckles pulled me against his chest with his arms over my shoulders and his hands pressing into my back. "Don't say that."

  I was trying to listen, to appear normal, but I was inhaling big lungfuls of leather and cigar smoke and it made me feel unbalanced. My index finger gently traced the hard line of his muscles. His hand tightened against me just slightly, crushing me to him a little tighter and trapping my hand between his belly and my ribs. He'd stopped me. Was I getting to him? Had he felt the same thing I did? I slid my hand around to his back and ran my fingers along the muscles under his shoulder blades. I was captivated by his body, his scent- the way they both wrapped around me made me feel woozy.

  His hand gripped my wrist and pulled it away from his back without even a hitch in the conversation with his President. I wasn't having the same effect on him he had on me, and the slight rejection confused and stung me. Less than thirty minutes before, he'd been rubbing my ass and pressing his erection into my back but suddenly he didn't want me touching him. I wanted to run away, lock myself in his bedroom and hide until he dragged me from under the bed screaming. I didn't move.

  "Come on, angel." His voice was a whisper at my temple. "Let's go back upstairs."

  Chapter Four

  Maya

  "What is Church?" I asked as soon as we were back in his bedroom.

  "Church is a meeting for members of the club. It's called Church because it's sacred." Knuckles pulled off his boots just inside the bedroom door.

  I sat on the edge of the bed to watch him. "Does everyone have to go every day?"

  "No, it's not always an everyday thing. If there's anything important going on we go, but everyone doesn't have to go every time. This morning everyone needed to be there because of you."

  "Me?" They’d had an entire meeting about me? I’d already done something wrong and I'd only been there overnight.

  "Yes, to make sure everyone knows to keep their hands off you. Tree would never have touched you if he'd been there." Knuckles sat next to me on the bed. "Stand up for me."

  I stood in front of him, watching for the darkness in his eyes, but it wasn't there. He wasn't angry or lusting, just curious.

  His hands were slow and steady, like I was a feral animal that could be spooked by the slightest wrong move. Maybe I was. He was careful as he rolled my shirt up over my side. "Does it hurt?"

  My breath caught in my throat as I finally allowed the pain to sink in. Biting back tears, I nodded.

  "There's medicine here. Doc left it for you in case it hurt."

  I shook my head. "I don't need it." The pain was a good reminder of what I’d be risking going back to if I tried to run again. Every single time I’d run away in the last six years had ended the same way- back in that house with Papa.

  "Can I see your shoulders?"

  I bent over and pulled the collar of my shirt down so he could see it. "This doesn't hurt. I don't think it's very bad."

  "It looks like it healed pretty well overnight. Turn around."

  I knew what he wanted to see next, and I knew what I wanted to see. He wanted to see if the handprint on my ass, a mark left in my skin by another man, was still there. I wanted to see that darkness in his eyes. So as I spun, I hiked up the legs of my shorts to my hips.

  The breath he sucked through his teeth was almost prize enough on its own, but when his hands gripped my thighs, I needed more. "I've told you twice now. I'm not touching you until you're healed up." His palm rubbed against the sore spot on my ass cheek, and then he squeezed it with his fingers.

  I leaned my head back, hoping he wouldn't notice that he was getting to me so easily. "Is it still there?" I asked. My voice was surprisingly husky. I'd never considered myself sultry, but my body was trying to be.

  "What?" His voice was getting raspy, too.

  It's working. "The handprint."

  "It's almost gone." He smoothed the skin, over and over like he was giving me a massage. "Don't let anyone else touch you."

  "I didn't," I said with a defensive edge to my tone. "He snuck up behind me." I wanted him to touch me more, though. Knuckles’ touch sent my body into overdrive and turned my brain to mush.

  "He won't do it again," he said forcefully, with conviction.

  "Why do they call you Knuckles?" Why is that the question you asked?

  "I fight."

  Simple enough. "Are they afraid of you?"

  "Some of them, but that's not why they'll stay out of your way. It's about loyalty to the club, to the brothers."

  That made sense. I'd heard before that bikers were fiercely loyal to each other and they were all connected by the patches on their back. "And James?"

  His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "James?"

  "Uh… that's right he said you call him Prospect."

  He chuckled. "James would be the last one to try to touch you. He's only allowed women when Pres says so."

  "What?" I tried to turn so I could see him, but he tried to hold me
still and I somehow ended up falling right into his lap, with half my bare ass pressed against his jeans.

  "Jesus, angel. You've got it bad, don't ya?"

  My heart pounded and I tried to stand up, but he held me in place by my waist and worked the shorts back down so I wasn't exposed. "I didn't mean to-"

  "I know. I'm just teasing." Thoughtfulness crossed his eyes, and then he smiled. "You like being close to me."

  My throat closed and I didn't have the ability to speak, so I nodded my agreement.

  "That's good. For now, to the club, you're known as my sweetie. It means you're mine and nobody can touch you, but you aren't part of the club yet like an Ol’ Lady would be."

  "What's a house mouse?" I croaked.

  He pulled my legs over his so he was cradling me in his arms like a child. "Who called you that?"

  "That doesn't matter. I just don't know what it is."

  He cocked his head to the side and his eyebrows went up. "I guess I can see how they would be confused. A house mouse is a young woman, like you, who needs the club to give her a place to stay and food in her mouth. A house mouse is sort of like a maid- they clean up, they cook, they sew. Most of them want to be an Ol’ Lady."

  I shook my head. "I'm so confused. Everything's just swimming around in my brain and I don't get it. So a house mouse is a maid, an ol’ lady is like a wife, and a sweetie is like… a girlfriend?"

  "Exactly!" He pressed a kiss to my temple. "You're smarter than you think."

  "Do I have to wear your name?" Again, Property of flashed through my head.

  "Not right now. If you were my ol’ lady you would. For now, though, I'll have you wear something different."

  "What is it?"

  "My old dog tags. Saying that sounds so weird. There's not really any significance to them anymore, but they'll get the point across when you're wearing them that you're spoken for." He scooted me off his lap onto the bed, and walked around to his nightstand. When he stood in front of me again, silver dangled from his fingers. "You have to wear these all the time, no matter where you go, and they have to be visible."