Read Online Yours: A Forever After Novella by Natasha Thomas - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Natasha Thomas
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the leather patrol who got all twitchy, not me. I even tried to slow them down to give you time to finish. When I couldn’t, I figured if you can’t beat them, might as well join them,” she shrugs.
“Thanks,” I deadpan. Gesturing to Spike without looking directly at him, I grit my teeth and tell her, “You better get him out of here before Lyric does something the boys will have to bail him out of jail for.”
Faye glances at them, her eyes widening at the look of fury etched into every feature of Lyric’s face.
“What’s going on, and why does Lyric look like he wants to kill his best friend?”
I don’t get a chance to answer, Lyric beating me to the punchline.
“Because he raped my wife. And now, he’s going to pay. I’m going to make him fucking suffer for what he did, and then some.”
CHAPTER NINE
~ Lyric ~
Blind rage fuels me as I lunge at the man I’d called my best friend for most of my life. The fact I’m naked as the day I was born doesn’t even register with me as I land a series of punches to the side of his face. Blood trickles from his nose, and I’m positive that fucker’s broken. The satisfying crunch of bone beneath my fist confirmed it.
“Stop,” I vaguely hear Dante shouting over the blood rushing through my ears, but all I can see is Spike’s death. A death that will be a long time coming if I have anything to say about it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Talon hisses. “Someone grab that motherfucker, and whoever’s left help me contain the Hulk. Faye, call Fury.” When Faye obviously doesn’t move fast enough for his liking, Talon bellows, “Now, Faye. Call fucking Fury and get his ass here now.”
“He’ll never get here in time,” Dante growls, trying to tear my arm off Spike’s windpipe.
“Fury’s in L.A. He had business to discuss with Deacon. He left about an hour after we did. Wanted to surprise his little girl too, he said” Talon grunts, hooking his hands underneath Spike’s shoulders.
That’s news to me. But then again, Fury and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms since I broke his daughter’s heart so it doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t share.
“No. Please don’t,” Harleigh’s cry penetrates the thick fog of anger wrapped around me like a blanket. I want to stop, to go to her and comfort her, but I’m too lost in the rage consuming every fiber of my being that not even the helpless tone in my wife’s voice can stop my attack.
Plowing my knee into Spike’s balls, he screams in agony, and I grin. His hacking coughs are music to my ears, but they’re not enough. This motherfucker needs to pay with his life for what he did to Harleigh, and I know just how to make it as painful as possible as he does.
Hands grapple trying to find purchase, feet scuff across floorboards, and blood drips into my eyes from a small cut above my eyebrow. Leaning into the forearm putting pressure on Spike’s windpipe, I snarl,
“You fucking dared to touch my wife? You put your filthy fucking hands on her and took something that was never yours to have. She’s mine, not yours. She was never yours.”
“Please,” Spike chokes, gasping for air. “Fuck, please stop.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I roar. “Stop? Did Harleigh ask you to stop when you touched her? Did my wife cry out for you to stop when you put your dick inside her and raped her? Did my girl beg you to stop when you threatened to kill me if she told anyone?”
When he doesn’t answer me and the rest of the room has fallen silent except for Harleigh’s sobs, I drop my voice to a quiet snarl.
“Well, did she? How many times did she ask you to stop and you didn’t? How many, motherfucker?” I demand, cutting off his oxygen long enough for his face to turn purple at the loss of oxygen.
“Eleven,” he grates out when I relive some of my weight from his
“Thanks,” I deadpan. Gesturing to Spike without looking directly at him, I grit my teeth and tell her, “You better get him out of here before Lyric does something the boys will have to bail him out of jail for.”
Faye glances at them, her eyes widening at the look of fury etched into every feature of Lyric’s face.
“What’s going on, and why does Lyric look like he wants to kill his best friend?”
I don’t get a chance to answer, Lyric beating me to the punchline.
“Because he raped my wife. And now, he’s going to pay. I’m going to make him fucking suffer for what he did, and then some.”
CHAPTER NINE
~ Lyric ~
Blind rage fuels me as I lunge at the man I’d called my best friend for most of my life. The fact I’m naked as the day I was born doesn’t even register with me as I land a series of punches to the side of his face. Blood trickles from his nose, and I’m positive that fucker’s broken. The satisfying crunch of bone beneath my fist confirmed it.
“Stop,” I vaguely hear Dante shouting over the blood rushing through my ears, but all I can see is Spike’s death. A death that will be a long time coming if I have anything to say about it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Talon hisses. “Someone grab that motherfucker, and whoever’s left help me contain the Hulk. Faye, call Fury.” When Faye obviously doesn’t move fast enough for his liking, Talon bellows, “Now, Faye. Call fucking Fury and get his ass here now.”
“He’ll never get here in time,” Dante growls, trying to tear my arm off Spike’s windpipe.
“Fury’s in L.A. He had business to discuss with Deacon. He left about an hour after we did. Wanted to surprise his little girl too, he said” Talon grunts, hooking his hands underneath Spike’s shoulders.
That’s news to me. But then again, Fury and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms since I broke his daughter’s heart so it doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t share.
“No. Please don’t,” Harleigh’s cry penetrates the thick fog of anger wrapped around me like a blanket. I want to stop, to go to her and comfort her, but I’m too lost in the rage consuming every fiber of my being that not even the helpless tone in my wife’s voice can stop my attack.
Plowing my knee into Spike’s balls, he screams in agony, and I grin. His hacking coughs are music to my ears, but they’re not enough. This motherfucker needs to pay with his life for what he did to Harleigh, and I know just how to make it as painful as possible as he does.
Hands grapple trying to find purchase, feet scuff across floorboards, and blood drips into my eyes from a small cut above my eyebrow. Leaning into the forearm putting pressure on Spike’s windpipe, I snarl,
“You fucking dared to touch my wife? You put your filthy fucking hands on her and took something that was never yours to have. She’s mine, not yours. She was never yours.”
“Please,” Spike chokes, gasping for air. “Fuck, please stop.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I roar. “Stop? Did Harleigh ask you to stop when you touched her? Did my wife cry out for you to stop when you put your dick inside her and raped her? Did my girl beg you to stop when you threatened to kill me if she told anyone?”
When he doesn’t answer me and the rest of the room has fallen silent except for Harleigh’s sobs, I drop my voice to a quiet snarl.
“Well, did she? How many times did she ask you to stop and you didn’t? How many, motherfucker?” I demand, cutting off his oxygen long enough for his face to turn purple at the loss of oxygen.
“Eleven,” he grates out when I relive some of my weight from his
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