Earlier, Dog had taken me to the Chaos Compound, dragged me with a hand on my upper arm to Tack’s room and he’d locked me in. Not a word of explanation. Not a, “Have you eaten?” Not a, “Don’t worry about your beloved aunt and best friend, all is well.” He just walked out, locked me in and I heard his booted feet walk away.

Now it was the dead of night and Tack was back from whatever he did with Lanie. Not me. Lanie.

Reminded of this, my hand stopped going slack at the knowledge that nothing else terrifying was happening to me, it strengthened and tried to push.

Tack wasn’t in the mood to be pushed away. I knew this because he leaned into my hand and my elbow buckled at the pressure just as the pads of his fingers bit into my flesh.

“Tack –” I started to say, what, I did not know, but he cut me off.

“Three hours,” he growled.

These words were so strange, said in a growl so low it was almost guttural, and his tone had changed so significantly from his previous quiet words, I stopped putting pressure on my hand and blinked at him in the shadows.

“Pardon?”

My arm got crushed between our bodies when his invaded my space and his hands slid up my hips, into my shirt, pulling it up, skin to skin.

“Three hours,” he repeated, his voice still that fierce, guttural rumble that kind of scared me and I didn’t know why. It was like the tone communicated that he was trying to control something, some emotion, and he was failing.

“Three hours?” I asked.

His shadowy face got close to mine. “Yeah, Red. Three. Fuckin’. Hours.”

Then his hands flew up, taking my top with it with such force I had no choice but to lift my arms. It was gone for nary a second when his fingers gripped me at the waist, I was up, twisted and he was walking, taking me with him. Then as quickly as I was up, I was down on my back in Tack’s bed and he was on top of me.

All this happened and I didn’t even have a chance to take a breath.

My hands went to his shoulders. “Tack –”

“Three hours.”

“Why are you saying –?”

I didn’t finish my question, his mouth crushed down on mine and there was no gentle coaxing to open for his tongue. It spiked out, forcing itself between my lips and then it was in my mouth. His kisses could be hungry, they could be demanding but he’d never kissed me like this. No one had ever kissed me like this. I didn’t even know you could kiss like this. It drained me dry at the same time it filled me up. Filled me full of what, I wasn’t sure except all of it was good.

Then his fingers were in my bra, pulling the cup down, they curved around the bottom of my breast and lifted it. His mouth released mine and he twisted his torso down and sucked my nipple into his mouth, hard.

“Oh God,” I moaned as the heady sensations tore through me, my hands lifted, fingers sifting into his hair to hold him to me.

His other hand went to my shorts, he unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned the top button and pulled the zip down maybe half an inch before his hand was in, sliding through the instant wetness his mouth at my nipple created. His middle finger slid through, I gasped and then stopped breathing when it filled me.

Then it started moving as Tack released my nipple and demanded, “Get your other tit ready for me.”

I didn’t hesitate. He sucked my nipple back into his mouth, more wetness surged between my legs and my hand left his head, my fingers went to the other cup of my bra and pulled it down. Then my hand curved around the underside and his head shifted, his finger between my legs still moving, he sucked my other nipple sharply into his mouth as his finger and thumb rolled the one his mouth left behind.

God. God. Amazing.

My hips bucked and my back arched. Then my hips moved with his hand, fast, hard, demanding.

His mouth left my nipple and came to mine.

“Greedy,” he growled, fingers at my nipple and between my legs still working.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“What do you want, Tyra?”

My arms moved around his shoulders, my hips still moving with his hand. “Your cock, Tack, I want your cock,” I breathed against his lips.

His hands left me instantly then the zipper on my shorts zipped down. Tack tore them off, taking my panties with them.

He got on his knees between my legs and I watched him tug off his tee and toss it aside as I lifted up, my hands moving directly to his jeans. I opened them and tugged them down his hips, my eyes glued through the shadows to the beauty of him.

“Lie back, spread wide for me, baby,” he ordered, my head tipped back and my mouth went dry with want.

Then I did as I was told, lying back and spreading my legs wide and at first, Tack didn’t move. He just kneeled between my legs and I felt his eyes on me. Then he leaned in, put a hand in the bed beside me, arm straight. He lifted the other hand and trailed his fingers from my throat, down my chest, between my breasts, down my ribs, belly, down, sliding between my legs.

“Tack,” I whispered, my voice urgent, my hips lifting to deepen his touch.

His finger slid inside and a moan slid out of my throat.

“Greedy cunt,” he muttered and his thumb hit me right where I needed it, my body jolted and my neck arched. “My girl’s got a greedy cunt.”

I didn’t respond. His thumb was moving. It felt good, unbelievably good, fantastic. So good, I was close to climax.

“Look at me, Red.”

I dipped my chin, tried to focus on him as his thumb went away but the tip of his cock slid inside.

“Yes,” I breathed, grinding down and taking him inside.

The minute I did, his body covered mine and he started moving, fast, hard, rough and deep.

“Yes, baby,” I breathed in his ear, “fuck me.”

My hips moved with his thrusts, my knees lifting, thighs tucking tight to his sides, my hands slid down his back so my fingers could dig into his hard ass.

God, he felt good. So good. And he was good at it. Great. Unbelievable. No one better. No one.

I felt his teeth nip the skin of my neck and it arched as that and his driving cock took me, already primed, crashing over the edge.

One of my hands released his ass and lifted, grasping his hair as I cried out. I lifted my hips, wrapping my legs around his back. I held on as he rode me through my orgasm, harder, harder, my body jolting, my limbs tightening, the beautiful pressure released only to build again instantly.

“You’re done and your pussy wants more,” he growled in my ear, his hands spanning my hips, yanking me up to meet his deepening thrusts.

“Yes…,” I gasped through his grunts as I started coming again, the beauty of it rolling over me, “Yes.”

My neck arched and my heels dug in his back as I lifted my hips further and he drove harder.

I was coming down, holding him tight, Tack thrusting deep, grunting with the effort, my tongue at the skin of his neck when his rhythm changed, slowed, but all the power of him shifted to his hips as he pounded hard and his grunts turned to groans.

Then he stopped, buried deep inside me, and gave me his weight. I liked his weight, his warmth, his smell, his body connected to mine and I held on tighter.

In my life, I’d had five lovers and I had chosen them all carefully. I thought all were close enough to perfect before I took them to my bed. And none of them gave me what Tack gave me. Not even close.

He shifted some of his weight to a forearm in the bed as his other hand drifted up the skin of my side and with his lips at my ear he whispered, “Three hours.”

My limbs convulsed and I whispered back, “Why do you keep saying that?”

He lifted his head and I felt his eyes on my face through the darkness. “That’s how long they had you.”

I forgot how to breathe.

Tack did not. He spoke.

“They’re gonna bleed.”

It was a vow.

My body went as still as my lungs.

He went on. “Rivers of blood.”

That was a vow too.

Oh. My. God.

“Tack –” I forced out.

His body shifted slightly to the side and his hand curled around my throat like it did outside Hawk’s SUV. His fingers flexed in but the touch was light.

His tone was not.

“They took you,” he stated.

“Yes, but –”

He interrupted me. “They hooded you.”

“I know, but listen –”

“They touched you.”

“Well, only to –”

“They bound you.”

“Uh …”

“They scared you.”

“This is true, but –”

“No,” he ground out, his fingers flexing deeper into my throat, no pressure, no pain, his word final, his touch communicating the same – no response necessary.

My hand went to his cheek and I whispered, “Handsome.”

It was like I didn’t even talk. Tack stayed on target. “Had Roscoe on you. They clocked him with the butt of a gun. Six stitches. Shoulda put Hopper on you. Brick. No one would get the jump on Hop or Brick.”

“Roscoe?”

“Recruit. Not fresh, he’s been around a while. Smart kid. Seen some action. Done his part. Thought he’d do good. Fucked up.”

Oh boy, I was worried about the unknown Roscoe and his six stitches but I was worried more about Tack and his fury.

“Tack, you need to let me –”

“No,” he cut me off yet again. “I’ll explain, Red, you belong to Chaos. No one touches what belongs to Chaos. No one. They don’t touch it. They don’t hood it. They don’t bind it. They don’t even breathe in its space unless they have Chaos permission.”

Um. I had to admit, I liked that he was protective. I even liked that he was overprotective.

But it must be said I wasn’t feeling the love for being referred to as an “it”.

I thought it wasn’t the brightest move to inform him of that fact in his current mood so I kept on my current target in hopes of getting through. “Please let me –”

“You gotta get that, Red. And I swear to fuckin’ Christ, they’re gonna get it.”

I stared into his shadowy face and whispered, “You’re scaring me again, Tack.”

His fingers flexed into my throat again before his hand slid up, palm cupping my jaw, fingers wrapped around my neck and ear and his face came closer, his lips touching mine before he moved back.

“You shouldn’t be scared. The point I’m makin’ is that you should never be scared. But I promise, ‘cause of this shit, someone’s gonna feel fear. It just ain’t gonna be you. Not again. Not ever again. Not for three hours, Tyra, not for three fuckin’ minutes.”

“Tack –”

“I’m not inviting discussion, babe, I’m sayin’ it like it is.”

“Tack!” I snapped, coming to my end. I slapped his arm to get his attention and demanded, “Listen to me!”

“What?”

He waited and I didn’t know what to say.

Then I enquired, “If I ask nice, can I talk you out of rivers of blood?”

“Fuck no.”

Firm. Resolute.

Damn.

“Okay then, if I ask nice, will you explain the concept of ‘rivers of blood’ so perhaps I can plan how long I’ll need to visit you in the penitentiary?”

This was met with silence. Then Tack buried his face in my neck and burst into laughter. He slid out of me, his arms wrapped around me and he rolled to his back so I was on top and I felt him buck his hips as he jerked up his jeans.

I didn’t find anything funny.

And I decided to inform him of this fact by lifting my head to stare down at him and explaining, “See, I figure you’re commencing Operation Rivers of Blood because I was scared but mostly you’re commencing Operation Rivers of Blood because you’re a badass, scary biker dude who feels the need to piss around his property. Therefore, when you’re sent down for twenty-five to life, I feel I should probably express my appreciation by visiting you for a year, maybe two, before I find myself an accountant who only utters the words ‘rivers of blood’ while referring to, say, a movie or book of that title.”

Without buttoning his fly, his arms came back around me and gave me a squeeze, his head lifted, his mouth touched my neck to give me a light kiss and then he dropped his head back on another arm squeeze and muttered an amused, “Babe.”

I was still not amused. “It’s likely said movie or book title will be the true life story of Chaos MC and its President wreaking vengeance on the Russian mob in Denver.” I paused then finished, “Sorry to say, it doesn’t have a happy ending.”