Devils & Daughters (An MC Romance)

Chapter 5: A Woman's Wrath

"Are we living or dying? I guess we'll never know. The air's so heavy, it could drown a butterfly if it flew too high." Grace Potter and The Nocturnals, Falling Or Flying

Sarin

Rolling over, the sheets were cold and his musky scent faintly lingered behind on the pillowcase, but his welcoming warmth was void once again from more than my room. For years, this was the standard. He extended minute bits of his love and attention, only to withdraw them when things got too deep for him to handle.

A sharp sigh coated the room at the realization that I was doomed to the tug that was Jackson James, like a chain struggling against his heavy anchor. Closing my eyes again, I wished for nothing more than peaceful dreams to sweep over me and free me from my conflicted feelings, but as the moisture leaked from the corner of my eye, I instead rolled over and padded my way to the bathroom.

My shoulder-length dark hair was tangled, but no amount of brushing could solve the problems that lingered beneath the surface. I could still feel his fingers intertwined in the strands and the way his breath felt against my neck as he slept. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I felt lost, and as I wiped at my wet eyelashes and stared at my reflection, the irrational anger boiled.

Letting my stubbornness kick in, I started to jam my belongings in my small carryon after I'd hurriedly dressed. With each item came a moody huff.

"If Jackson wants to play games, then I'll be the best card player of them all," I grumbled.

I chewed furiously on my bottom lip as I packed, deciding to take my sweet time in order to further annoy him.

"Jackson hates to be kept waiting," I said to the empty room, as I stuffed my jeans in my suitcase. "He'll finally feel how I've subconsciously felt for the last few years."

I ignored the loud knock at the door in favor of plopping down on the edge of the bed and checking my fingernails one last time. One agonizingly slow sweep of the crystal clear polish over them and one finely timed blow followed. A slow smile crept over my face as the knocking persisted, while the annoyance that coated each drop of my blood finally began to get its satisfying revenge. I tossed the bottle of clear coat into my suitcase as the harsh knocks ceased and quiet filled the room once again.

A few minutes later the door buzzed, thanks to a spare key card and 8-ball emerged. "We're late," he barked out with a growl as his crystal blue eyes locked onto me with a displeased glare.

Blowing on my nails one final time, I huffed. "And? He can wait until I'm done... Tell the big man that I'll be down when I'm down and if he doesn't like that"—I turned my head and grinned—"then he can come up here himself."

Oh, you feel bold cause you know he won't venture up here... Had he intended to deal with me this morning he wouldn't have snuck out in the middle of the night like he was ashamed to be here and he sure as shit wouldn't have sent 8-ball up here to fetch me. Jackson was in preservation mode where I was concerned. He'd exposed a little chink in his strong armor last night and now he was tucking tail in order to repair the crack. In a flash, 8-ball snatched my suitcase off the desk with a growl and threw the last few items in before zipping it up.

"I want that bath oil from the bathroom. The expensive one," I stated, as I checked my pockets before shrugging on my leather jacket over my t-shirt.

8-ball grumbled under his breath as he ventured to the bathroom, and I tilted my head as a satisfying smirk graced my lips.

He stormed out a few seconds later. "Not there."

"Then we'll have to stop in the gift shop on our way out because I liked it." I crossed my arms across my chest and flashed him a saccharine smile.