DESPERADO | Serpents of Western Rock Book #1

T E N: King Cobra

Ｊｏｓｉｅ:

"And where are you going dressed like that?" Gabriel stood in the doorway to the bathroom, shaking his head and holding back a laugh.
I looked down at my see-through mesh top revealing a black bralette. My black jeans clung tightly around my legs and I wore my usual black studded boots. I looked into his direction and shrugged. "Going out to that new bar downtown that we saw next to Mamies."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
I held back a defensive response. I didn't need him questioning me every second. My mind has been decently distracted lately. Withdrawals are the least of my worries. "I'm fine, Gabriel. Honest."
With a nod, he walked off back downstairs and out the door to finish starting a fire with Benji. With that, I spritzed on a little perfume with a woodsy and vanilla sent. I stared at that untouched bottle beside where I set my perfume.
   I'm fine, I decided.
I glanced in the mirror one more time to quadruple check my make-up, since I rarely wore this much. I even curled up my hair. I was hoping to not only score a job at this place, but take my mind off that damn biker, that dead guy, any remote want for drugs, and that god damn Marco Spinelli.
I tucked my knife into my shoe for precautionary reasons and snagged my keys off the counter. I tucked my phone into my back pocket and shoved my ID and cash into my bra.
The drive was short, before I knew I was pulling up to a large brick building, a heavy bass of the music beaming off its structure. A large green lit sign on the entrance read King Cobra and mounds of people stood outside stumbling and smoking on tobacco and weed.
When I reached the inside, anxiety washed over me. I was used to doing things alone, but the amount of people here was overwhelming. It was opening night, I get it, but I didn't think Western Rock was this hype.
Antique chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling, spot lights chasing one another along the tall walls. The floor was a dark wooden finish and the ambience was even dark, smelling of smoke and sandalwood. I made my way to the bar, that wrapped around nearly half of the building. Shelves going on for yards, racked with bottles and bottles of liquor.

"What can I get you, sugar?" Shouted one of the bartenders when my patience waiting in line was fulfilled.
"Bourbon and little bar syrup, on the rocks!" I called back with a thankful smile.
"Nice choice," nudged an older gentleman next to me. His hair was gray, and a long beard stuck to his leather jacket. Shit, that leather cut...
"Thank you!" I called back to the bartender, tossing him some cash when he handed me my drink.
"The bar syrup is an interesting touch," the old man added, touching my shoulder as he spoke. He looked sloppy and his mouth curled up into a flirtatious smirk.
I backed away. "I like it sweet."
   "So don't I," he purred. I could feel him looking me up and down. "Come on, baby," he slurred. "Come sit with me for a while."
I looked around for an empty seat at any of the tables. "No, thanks, I'm good," I answered him, continuously skimming the crowd. That's how I began to notice many leather jackets. There had to be about 50 bikers in this bar right now.
"If you don't wanna sit, that's fine," he kept going. He was now standing up, gliding his hand down my back. "We can go to my truck out back..."
I felt every part of my brain attempt to shoot signals to my legs to move. I tried to walk away but he grabbed my forearm. "Hey, come on now, don't be like that."
"Look," I growled angrily, "I'm flattered. But I'm not interested."
His other hand was now at my ass, and I jumped when he gave it a pinch. "I can make you interested."
   Fuck, I had to get out of here.
I tried to pull away from his grasp but he spun me into him. His beer belly was pressed roughly against me and his eyes got big. I immediately regretted wearing this shirt.
"Get the hell off of her, Cobalt," hissed a dry yet uneven voice. I recognized that voice. I've heard that voice in my head since the other day. Was I at all surprised? He was everywhere.
The man stumbled away from me and threw his hands up as if he wasn't interested in me remotely. He crawled back onto his stool and called for another drink.
"I can handle myself," I noted, turning around and pretending to grill him. But really I was staring at him in awe. He wasn't wearing his usual cut, it was replaced with a less rugged looking leather coat, covering a fitting white v-neck. He trimmed his beard back to its stubble and his long hair was greased back like it had been when we met.
Aside from appreciating his looks, a flash of that murderous man, blood on his hands, and shirtless in the sun, breached my memory. I shook my head, trying to erase them.
"Not the first time I heard that." His face was drawn to the bar as someone tossed him a beer, but he remained standing in front of me. He looked out into the distance as if he wasn't talking to me.
"Why are you even here?"
He chuckled, downing a little from his bottle before replying. "King Cobras are Serpents."
I turned my head to the side and squinted, not understanding.
"We own the bar." His tone was kind of sharp.
"Figures," I mumbled below the music.
As soon as I took my drink to my lips, a lanky woman with long blue hair skipped over to us and slung her arm around his. His eyes rolled and he pulled his arm down.
"Let's go dance," she begged, her gaze steadily on me.
I scoffed, taking a long gulp from the cold glass of bourbon I was now gripping on tightly.
"Not doing this, Peyton." Must be his ex girlfriend. Thank god I ended that kiss the other day. I knew he was fucking trouble. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, because he's been occupying it for days now. In every good and bad way possible.
I began to turn on my heels when I heard her laugh, "That's right, bitch."
   I stopped myself from lunging at her. I was better than that. So instead I didn't feed into her remark, but I did turn back around to smile at her. I knew what she was trying to do. "Let's go dance, Viper."
My words shocked him. Shit, they shocked myself even more. Instead of denying me, he grabbed my hand, led me to the floor and shoved through the crowd. His hold on my hand was loose, but it still sent my nerves in overdrive. He was dangerous. I knew it. But my mind didn't take the signals seriously. Instead, I was filled with heat in my core.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw that blue headed tramp stomp away to the exit. My point was made, we didn't have to actually dance.
I was going to walk off the floor, but Viper's hands grabbed my hips and pulled me facing toward him. "You can leave right now," he shouted over the song. "I'm giving you the option."
My heart might've jumped out of my chest. I didn't know if he was kicking me out or genuinely asking me what I wanted. All I knew is that I was extremely attracted to this man.
Every time I thought of that, a ding would attempt to go off in my head and play pictures of him gunning anyone and everyone down. Why couldn't I get it?
He pulled my arms over his shoulders and his hands held my waist firmly. "I'm not gonna keep you against your will, I know what you were trying to do back there. Go home now," he said imminently.
I began to grind into him a little. "And if I don't?"
He looked off into the distance to refuse eye contact. "You might regret it."
I unintentionally started to play with the ends of his hair. "Probably." Whatever this man was doing to me, he did it well.
He swayed along with me for a minute. "Why are you here?"
My stomach was in knots and my legs tingled to his touch. "I need a job."
"Job?"
I nodded, "maybe a shooter girl?"
He finally looked down at me, seemingly surprised. "And what makes you think I would hire you?"
I gulped in a shitload of oxygen before I spoke my next words. "Because I have something over you." I meant it playfully, but I also didn't even say it in my head before it came out of my stupid mouth.
Daggers. That's what his brown eyes felt like. They were glossed over with menace. His hands gripped my hips tighter and I gasped in his hold. My core was on fire as my body lusted for him and my veins were pulsating in fear. This combination was explosive.
He flipped me around so that I was grinding on him with my ass. His hands were demanding and aggressive, but all in a non-forceful way. I could tell the anger in him was brewing though. He slipped his hand under the back of my hair and tugged a little at it just so I would turn my head to the side and look at him. He bent down into my ear to whisper to me. "Don't you ever fucking threaten me."
Something in him was different. I know I didn't know him, but the guy I met wasn't lost like the guy I'm looking at is now.
My cheeks flushed red and I turned around, chugging the rest of my drink. His beer had disappeared before we even hit the floor. All that he had with him was this stirring determination swirling in his aura.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd, taking me to this short dark hallway and into this large bright office. Slamming the door shut, he held me against it. And I have to admit, I wasn't fighting. Part of me was nervous and scared, but it was exciting. It made me forget everything else I've been feeling for half my life.
His hands were on either side of the door and his minty tobacco breath was on my cheek. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but don't ever come into my fucking bar and threaten me like that again. I swear to God, you try anything for real and you won't be walking out of here in any condition to run and tell the cops shit." He was serious. But there was something else in his eyes, and whatever it may be, was on the edge.
"I'm not scared of you, remember?" My voice was quiet, but it wasn't small.
"You should be." With his response, he grabbed my face and pulled my lips to his. Our mouths were crashing against each other relentlessly. The heat radiating through our kiss was boiling. But it was a little different than the first time. We were bloodthirsty. Our tongues began to dance together in a rhythmic way once he had me in his grasp. The sway of his tongue sent my stomach in flips.

He slid his hands behind my knees and threw me up to wrap around him, gripping my ass cheeks. He turned us around and threw my back flat on a tall set sofa that sat against the wall.
Tugging on my hair, causing my legs to shake, I was tugging on his. One of his hands gripped my hip and he pulled that part of my body up and against his. A moan inevitably reached my lips, causing him to growl in the back of his throat.
I was gasping for air and his hot wet lips were going down the nape of my neck. He had purpose to his kisses, he had desire brewing inside him. It was sending tingles down my entire body, my belly collapsing from the heat inside of me. He ripped my shirt open, and was now kissing across my collar bone and sliding the tip of his finger in circles around my belly. He skipped down to my legs and glided his hand across my inner thighs. He knew exactly how to touch me. My body was shaking for him.

My brain was on a head high. I rose and collapsed my torso over and over until everything was put to a halt.
My breathing compressed, I lifted myself and sat up straight on the couch. I was left dizzy.
He had his back turned to me and he began to pace. When he turned around he was biting his swollen lip and shaking his head.
"I can't," he grumbled, trying to ease his lungs. His voice was raspy.
I wrapped an arm around my shirt uncomfortably, realizing it was ripped during that whole fiasco. I was now standing in my boots and rubbing the makeup that was surely smudged under my eyes.
"Why?" Now my voice was small.
I felt an emptiness in my stomach. I was embarrassed and confused, my head began to pound.
"Because." Because what? Because I'm just a quick fuck? Because you've got a girlfriend? Because you're not interested?
"Well, spit it out," I hissed impatiently.
"You need to leave."
I rolled my eyes and shoved my way passed him. I never did shit like this, and the one time I put myself out there, I get turned away. And once again he makes me forget he's a killer.
"Wait," he called.
I flipped around hopefully and did just that. Waited. And waited for what you ask?
"Here," he said, handing me a black hoodie off of a shelf from beside the desk. He didn't even look at me. "Put this on."
With a huff, I threw the hoodie over my head and adjusted it as soon as I slammed the door. Of course he wants me to cover up my ripped shirt. Probably doesn't want the blued hair tramp to see. I kept my teeth clenched down against each other, walking out, with the little dignity I had left.