Revved Up Soul

Chapter 10

Luke

Luke Reynolds' cock was still hard from the night before, he couldn't shake the thought of ravaging Jasmine Giuseppe's lithe little body for all it was worth. He let out a hum deep from his chest as the hot water rained against his face. Showers always seemed to clear his mind, made it easier for him to think – but Jasmine was his constant distraction.

Forgive her, you know it wasn't her fault, Luke thought. He pushed his jet black hair back, lifting his chin up high. I just can't not see his face, it's too much of a struggle to forget when she's around – even when she's not around I can't escape her.

I can't escape.

Luke turned and faced the exquisite white tiles of the shower wall, resting his arms against it and letting his body drift away.

She meant so much to me, that much I can see – her emerald eyes make every inch of me sing with ecstasy. The club was demanding more and more of Luke, and his only escape was in her.

Its better this way, he argued. If Kayla ever found out . . .

Turning again, Luke's blue and brown eyes peered over at the open door. He knew why he had done that; it was too hard to deny – his body became fire made flesh when he saw her.

Darkness pressed against his heart. I should go out there and take her. If I could just taste her, maybe then I'd be free.

Shutting his eyes, there was a red glimpse of horror – the icy airs of the grave finding him even against the steaming waters.

No, Luke thought sullenly. There's no freedom from this.

His heart bled and he clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned pale as milk; the pain turned to anger and he wanted nothing more than to just hit something. Anything.

Shutting off the water, he couldn't recall what he had done in the bar that night – he remembered the blurry faces of two boys. He pushed that into the deep dark below, where all things not longed for dwelling were sent. Everything in that wicked expanse stirred and his mind scattered into a hundred different directions.

Luke stepped from the shower and toweled off his well-toned body. He wasn't the most muscular in the MC, but he knew how to throw a punch – and more importantly, how to make good on his threats. Whatever he lacked in strength he made up for in speed. And he knew one thing for sure. Fear commanded more respect than love; that much The Life had taught him

Strapping on his boots, dark jeans and white shirt – Luke examined himself once over in the mirror, rubbing the scruff of his face. It hurt him something deep to see a man looking back with death wish written on the lines of his stone-cold face.

If love and companionship was all but ruined, and brotherhood lost forever – what was there that remained? The club was going to shit, and sooner or later the cops were going to catch up with what they were doing. Nothing in Luke's life was sacred anymore.

Stepping through the doorway, Luke looked for Jasmine. He had called for a ride earlier, and knew that it would be arriving soon, but he did still want to say goodbye.

Luke moved over to the kitchen, only just then realizing that his lips were upturned from their usual place of stoicism. He put an end to that quickly and called out the hellcat's name.

"Sorry," her voice came from behind him, soft as an angel's grace.

He spun on his heel to face her.

Beautiful. She was dressed in her white coat and wore a dark purple kind of color – some fancy shade – button up shirt beneath it; it had ruffles along the V of her drop dead sexy bust. Fuckin' Christ, he thought, feeling a surge of energy slam just below the base of his cock. She oozed an aura of power and intelligence that no woman had graced him with before; her emerald eyes practically god damned sparkled in the morning light. Something caught in Luke's throat and he tried to clear it, "Just wanted to say thanks," he couldn't look away from her. She's not just some conquest, he remembered then, in a fading image.