Vicious Heart (Desert Kings MC #2)

10. Riley

ten

Riley

Desert Lights was sensory overload. Music, lights, people all packed into a chunk of desert between two sets of foothills. The noise, rather than blasting out into the night, ricocheted back into the little valley.

When I turned to dance with Kenna, she barely noticed me.

Not for the first time or the hundredth, she was glancing down at her phone. We’d spent most of the night exploring each of the stages and booths, even having butterflies painted with body paint on our chests and necks. But Kenna was miles away for most of it.

The crowd was getting thicker now. Light shows and throbbing techno bass blared all around us.

And here she was still worried about her asshole boyfriend. It was too easy to get annoyed, think about finding Cam and taking him up on his promise. But I’d told Dylan I’d keep an eye on her.

“Now he’s blaming me for not being here with him. Like, me being here is some huge embarrassment for him because I rode with Puck. Keeps calling me a slut. That fucker.”

“You knew it was going to rattle him,” I pointed out.

Her mischievous grin was quick and dangerous. “Right, right.”

“Put him on ignore and let’s have fun. I’ve never been to a rave, much less something like this.” And it was huge. We were tucked behind several food booths, where it gave the illusion of quiet. Four stages with DJs were set up in a giant x-pattern, the booths all set up in the middle of that x. Food, drinks, first aid, and all manner of party vendors.

“Hey.” She snagged my arm before I could walk off. The DJ shooting bubbles out over the crowd piqued my curiosity. “Ever done Molly?”

I blinked and she laughed.

“Ecstasy? The party drug?”

I hadn’t. I’d never even smoked weed. “No.”

“Want to?”

“Maybe.” All around us there were lights and music and people. Most of which seemed to be partying on another plane of existence. Being with Cam was an experience, and I wanted to experience more things. Maybe be a little bad myself.

“Let’s ask your boyfriend.” She tugged me along behind her, stomping around in her fairy wings and combat boots.

“I don’t need his permission.” I scowled as I fell in step.

She laughed, high and bright. “He’s the one with the drugs.”

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.

Cam, in jeans and his leather cut, stood near one of the entrance gates. Jester and several others with him. He was laughing and at ease, which was sexy as hell. I enjoyed watching him, unaware that I was as we approached. In his element, he cut up with the guys around, but constantly had an eye on the crowd around him.

When he saw me, he peeled away with a grin and wrapped me up in his arms. He examined the body paint. “I’d like to see that without the rest of this shit on you.”

He hooked a finger in the deep cut front of my shirt and pulled it back, glancing inside. Then was mock dejected when he saw my bra. “Damn.”

But he kissed me like I was the hottest thing in the desert. Scorching all over me, one hand sliding down my ass and between my thighs, rubbing against my sex, openly marking his territory while he kissed me.

I pulled from the kiss, his hand massaging across my pussy through the shorts, with a mix of surprise and arousal. But I didn’t push him away. He leaned close to my ear. “It’s all mine.”

When I chuckled, he nuzzled my neck. “You look so good, darlin’. Every guy here is watching you.”

I blushed and wiggled back a step. Kenna gestured at me to get on with it before rocking back and forth in her boots. Did I just ask? I’d never done drugs before, much less bought them.

“Do…” I looked around nervously and Cam screwed up his brow, both hands now clutching my ass. “…you have any Molly?”

His blond brows shut up in surprise. “For who?”

“Me and Kenna.”

“Uh…huh…” he grunted, his eyes narrowing teasingly. “And if I happen to have some, what’s in it for me?”

I wasn’t a prude. I knew Molly was a club drug that might make me more sex forward, hornier. “Well, I don’t have any cash on me.” I teased and drummed my fingertips on his chest.

He took a long look at me, smacked my butt with one hand, then reached into his vest pocket.

It was my turn to be shocked. The bag in hand was filled with brightly colored tablets. I couldn’t even comprehend that many, much less when I realized he wasn’t the only one of the guys with them.

“It’s safer when we provide the party,” he said simply as he shook two out.

“You don’t have a secret life as a small-town drug dealer?” I gasped.

“You know all my secrets, darlin’.” His eyes were serious, but he shoved the bag into his pocket with his free hand, plucked a pill from his palm, and handed it to Kenna.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, happily popping it into her mouth and swallowing dry.

“Riley’s gonna pay me later.” He grinned and held the other one out to me between his thumb and forefinger, so that I had to wrap my lips around both and suck it free before swallowing. I made a show of it, teasing him.

The fire that flashed in his eyes made me want to put my lips around other parts of him.

“And I expect to be paid in full.” He slapped me on the ass one last time as I pranced away.

Desert Lights was amazing. I don’t know what I’d expected, but Kenna and I danced from one stage to another, finding areas of parties where various social organizations, fraternities and the like had smaller parties happening within the big one.

It was late into the night when the chemicals kicked in. I found myself lost in the music as if it controlled my movements—not me. The musical marionette marked with flashing lights. Sights and sounds were brighter and louder, the music visceral.

Cam found me every so often when he made rounds around the event or got called to handle a disturbance near us. He’d pull me to him and kiss me, sometimes swaying with me while I ran my hands over him. He always pulled away before I could get more than a passing graze. It was like he knew if he stood there too long, I’d do more than touch.

At one point, I was dancing by myself under a flashing strobe light. Kenna flirted nearby with some young, college aged guys. Then Cam was there, his body hard, unyielding in front of me when he leaned down and claimed my mouth. No dancing, standing still as others undulated around us. His tongue enticed mine, slowly languishing against it, sliding back and forth. His hands slid up and down my sides, my ass, even between my thighs from behind like he’d done earlier.

It wasn’t until I undulated against him, mimicking sex as best I could as I danced, that he untangled himself from me. I didn’t need to hear the groan, because I watched his face contort with it.

I’d screw him right there in front of the crowd. I didn’t care. I wanted him so much. I was desperate for his hands on me, his cock inside of me.

“Soon, baby.” He nipped my ear before leaving me again.

With a huff, I went back to Kenna, wrenched her away from her boys. If they protested, I didn’t care. Because the Kings were never far away. I could see them all over the place. Their dark leather cuts stood out starkly against the flashing lights, the patches glowing bright white in the black lights. It made me feel safe, protected, and able to enjoy a new experience my sheltered life hadn’t allowed. Because the men in those leathers, the scary ones, the killers and drug dealers—they would protect me.

Kenna was a vibrant, sparkling ball of never-ending energy—Tinkerbell on speed. She tugged me to yet another spot broken off from the chaos of the main concert crowds. When she left me to make-out with two guys at once, I found a place to sit and found myself missing Cam. It was a weird, hippie vibe to sit on a small outcropping of rock in the desert and sway back and forth to the music as laser light shows flickering across my skin.

My grieving process started the day Mom was diagnosed. By the time she died, I was focused on survival. Alone in this large, loud crowd, I found a calming sense of quiet. I forgave and grieved for both my parents. Was sad for the one who’d given me everything she had and at peace with the one who gave me the life I had now.

“He’s here!” Kenna’s angry hiss was the only thing to pull me from my thoughts.

“Who?” Momentarily confused, I looked around for Cam—as I had most of the night.

“Ghost.” She stamped her foot, a puff of dusty sand covering the toe of her boot. “Just when I’m having a good time, he’s standing there, arms across his chest, glaring at me.”

“Did you have your tongue down someone’s throat?” Seemed like a good question, considering.

Instantly exasperated with me, she tossed up her hands, then slammed her balled fists onto her hips. “No,” she said it with such force her wings bounced.

“Then screw him,” I said, my tone as flippant as Cam’s. After what I’d seen, Ghost wasn’t nearly good enough for my friend.

That seemed to pacify her. But something in her demeanor settled weirdly on me. Maybe I was paranoid, maybe I was reading too much into it, but a steady pressure was building around Kenna. Like at any instant, she might combust.

We danced near the outskirts of another stage. At this point I couldn’t tell the difference between stages or music or lights. Kenna moved from me to this cute, preppy guy and back again. He was shirtless, his hair mussed, and well on his way to drunk.

He was the type of guy I used to think was cute, the popular kid I’d probably have had a crush on if I’d never met Cam—who was so different. Better looking sure, but more—grittier, bolder, badder.

Damn.

Kenna grabbed me, laughing, dancing in a circle. Everything flowed together, the music, the lights, the glittering wings she wore that seemed like they moved all on their own. So much so that I didn’t notice when Ghost circled back around to us.

He pushed the preppy kid off Kenna, knocking her to the ground for a second time.

“Whoa!” I shouted.

Kenna shot to her feet, punching Ghost square in the mouth. It was a slow-motion swing of her arm. He saw it coming, let it land, almost as if he liked the outburst. His head barely moved, but I’m pretty sure I heard the crack of skin over the music.

She was shouting, he was shouting. Everything around me throbbed and my head sounded like the inside of a vacuum and the punch ran on repeat several more times. I blinked, trying to center myself, make everything normal again—but it didn’t happen.

Someone reached for me, a beefy hand with stubby fingers. I looked up to see Preacher sneering. His face was over animated, like the boogeyman in a low budget horror flick.

I took Kenna’s hand and ran, threading us through the crowd. She still laughed, oblivious to my distress. With each step, the preppy guy, Ghost, and Preacher all seemed to disappear.

A fight broke out beside us near one stage. Bodies shoved against me, Kenna, all heat and sweat and angry violence. Strong hands plucked me out of it, Kenna too. Merc hovered over us, checking us for signs of injury, before mussing my hair with a wink.

I crouched to the ground, sucking in ragged breaths. It was too hot, too much was happening. Kenna collapsed beside me, no longer laughing. As Merc and several others broke up the fight, guys from other charters toted the offenders off.

Merc knelt in front of me. “You good?”

Yes. No. I wanted Cam. I panicked for a minute, unsure how to answer that, managed a nod.

He stood, shouted to someone, then knelt back seconds later with two bottles of water and handed them to us. “Drink this and come with me.”

“Where?” Kenna barked. Puffed up like a pissed off rave pixie.

I took Merc’s hand and ignored Kenna’s resistance as I let him lead us through the crowd. I didn’t follow blindly. Wherever Merc was taking us, Cam was there.

When I saw him standing in the middle of a crowd, it was like he was lit by a light that didn’t exist. A glow exuded around him. A white, burning sort of confidence that made him sexier than any other man there.

I could eat him up.

The desert was too hot, too crowded. I wanted him alone. I was past the point of wanting this party to be over.

He looked up, saw me, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. I knew the glow didn’t exist even as I saw the world currently in swirls of color. But the smile and swagger as he walked to me was absolutely real.

And was all mine.

A wave of people surged away from us to the crowd near a stage. Aggressive party goers, going at each other again. Instead of running away, the crowd pushed toward the violence. Bottles were thrown, fists flew, but pretty soon the fight was gobbled up by onlookers vying for a better view.

“Stay here!” Cam shouted as he ran by me, shoving me and Kenna into the first aid tent and tearing off toward the fight.

“Holy shit!” Kenna’s mouth gaped, clutching my hand tightly now. Her tussle with Ghost, the little fight Merc rescued us from, had been nothing compared to this.

“That’s crazy, bruh.” Mr. Preppy Pants was back, face red as he gaped at the rolling crowd. “You ladies okay?”

We were fine, had been the entire time. But I didn’t say that, couldn’t find a reason to break through my high haze to waste words on him. He was nobody. Nothing.

The crush of dancers and fighters moved close to us, people darting across the desert to get away, climbing over fences and crashing into brush and tumbleweeds. Not to get away from the fight, from the party, but from the line of bikers in leather vests that waded off into the crowd dispatching the hooligans.

I looked frantically for mine while Kenna chatted up her new friend.

“Riley,” Kenna was pulling at my hand. “This is too much; I’m getting out of here.”

“What? Where?” I turned to Kenna as an EMT led in a young woman bleeding profusely from her nose.

“Anywhere but here. The fight, the noise, Ghost. I have to go.” Preppy pants was leading her away.

“You don’t even know these guys.” I gave chase.

She screwed up her face. “I do. I graduated with Chad and Lance. Duh. It’s just a house party. I’ll catch a ride home after. Stick around”— she did a sexy little shimmy— “Enjoy your buzz and your man.”

I didn’t like it. The sick tug deep in my belly shouted that this was all wrong. There was a reason Dylan had asked me to keep an eye on her.

“Nuh uh. We stick together.”

She was annoyed but shrugged a shoulder. “Fine, then come with us. But your boyfriend is going to be big mad that you left.”

“He’ll get over it.”

The impatient way Preppy-Pants Chad huffed near the edge of the tent told me that my presence wasn’t wanted.

Fuck that guy. I was definitely going now.

I fired off three texts immediately and turned on my location.

Worried about Kenna. She’s going to some house party with people I don’t know.

Going with her.

Come get me.