Ruin & Rule (Pure Corruption MC #1)
Page 92A collective nod and intelligent men turned into hunting savages—focused on one goal.
I was surprised Arthur hadn’t thrown me over his shoulder and tossed me onto his bike with the rage he was in. The anger he kept wrapped around himself had been refastened after our tryst; he was back in full command.
He’d captured my wrist and the four of us stormed to the garage and its awaiting steeds. Instead of velveteen horses and lances, the knights defending my honor climbed aboard their trusty Triumphs and cocked their guns, ready for battle.
I just hoped there would be no war and answers would put aside whatever feud Arthur had with people I didn’t know. I wanted life to be simple again—not the messy ball of lies it had become.
I’d tried to speak to Arthur over the whipping wind as we shot down roads beneath hot sunshine, but with helmets and the insane pace he pushed his machine, my voice had no hope of being heard.
His body was tight, fists white around the handlebars. My body plastered against his in a borrowed leather jacket.
City, suburbia, then highway became my view as the rumble and thunder of three Triumphs ate tarmac with ravenous speed.
I had no idea where we were going.
Twenty minutes went by—zipping and weaving down roads and highways.
Forty minutes—my front grew sticky and hot pressed against Arthur’s powerful back.
Fifty minutes—my spine tingled with foreboding the longer we traveled.
An hour.
The roar of not just our bike but Grasshopper and Mo’s too no longer lived in my ears but in my soul. My heart purred to it. My stomach churned to it.
Family sedans slowed down to let us pass. Big rigs moved off the median to let us charge in front. Was it respect or fear that gave the bikers the road? Either way, their throttles remained high and tires chewed up tarmac as cities disappeared behind us.
We finally slowed and entered a small town. We meandered down lanes and through suburban neighborhood perfection. At every corner, my heart beat harder.
I—I know this place…
My eyes fell on a park complete with faded monkey bars, seesaw, and swing.
My world disintegrated.
“Would you let me kiss you if I pushed?”
I spun around, locking eyes with the boy who, until last week, hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. He’d been so mean when I’d asked him to watch TV with me while my parents were out, I’d cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t understand how we’d gone from being so close and sharing our deepest secrets to being complete strangers.
My mom said Art had needs and I would understand when puberty happened to me.
I’d scoffed and said puberty sucked.
Art had needs—I was his need. Stupid boy just hadn’t figured it out yet.
Art moved in front, grabbing the chain so my swing snapped to a halt. His groin was eye level and I swallowed hard.
Bending over me, he whispered, “I’ve been a fucking idiot, Buttercup.”
“Don’t swear and don’t call me Buttercup.”
He smiled, but the grin didn’t meet his eyes. He looked sad and lost and afraid. “Did I ruin it? Did I break what we had?”
My stomach twisted into bows.
Letting his grip trail down the chain, he captured my hands and squatted in front of me so he now looked up as if begging. “Cleo. I know I was an ass to you. But… I miss you.”
A large ball wedged in my throat.
I miss you, too.
I love you.
I want you to love me the same way.
Everything I wanted to say slammed against the ball in my throat, keeping me mute.
I almost fell off my swing; it was only my death grip that kept me upright. Love. He loved me. Like a sister? A friend? An annoying little tagalong?
My voice cracked as I whispered, “What do you want from me?” The question was strangely wise and older than my thirteen years. But I knew exactly what I was asking and I knew exactly what I wanted.
His face came close, his nose skimming mine. It was the closest we’d ever been to kissing. Tickling and planting kisses on each other’s laughing faces when we were younger didn’t count. This… It was different. Completely different. Wild and naughty and grown-up.
“Everything, Cleo. I want everything from you.”
The slowing of the motorbike and quietening of the rumbling engine tore my mind from the past. Arthur’s powerful bulk rested in my arms and I squeezed him as hard as I’d squeezed the swing chain.
I couldn’t breathe as emotion tsunamied over me, drowning me in love for this complicated man. I loved him the moment he carried me home after falling off my bike. The stars made me for him. I was his and it killed me to think I’d forgotten it.
Forgotten him. This place. Our past.
Everything.
I’d walked away and forgotten the most important piece of my life. How had I survived without him? How had I found comfort with a boy with brown eyes that I still couldn’t remember? It didn’t make sense that my brain had shut off someone so important.