Tainted Love Read online

  I roll my eyes and ignore him as I dig through the bar fridge and toss a handful of mini bottles onto the bed, before I take a seat beside them all and slam the first one, I twist the lid off of.

  “Are you at least gonna pass me one of those?”

  I slam another one and then shake my head.

  “Get your own booze, asshole. I’m sure Satan has a nice collection you can choose from.”

  “She doesn’t actually,” he says standing up, “she’s going through withdrawal and there is no alcohol in your house.”

  “Yeah, right,” I snort half-laughing, “Satan would kill anyone who fucked with her poison.”

  “I’m serious,” he says, reaching for a bottle, “she’s in pretty bad shape.”

  I smack his hand, but he snatches it and takes a seat beside me.

  “What the fuck, Pax? This isn’t a friendly visit, you fuck. God you are relentless, sitting here lying to my face like I’m an idiot. I fucking saw you guys, you stupid shit!”

  He slams back the shot of whiskey and growls like he always does when he’s mad.

  “You’re wrong about what you think you saw, Kirsten. Just think about it for a second.”

  “Fuck you Pax, I don’t want to think about it for a second! I’ve been thinking about it my whole fucking life already… don’t you fucking get it? You gave her exactly what she wanted.”

  I unscrew the lid off another bottle and slam it, starting to feel the anger come back tenfold as I picture them in the shower, together, his hands all over her, and it makes me want to puke.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake already! Stop drinking and just listen to me for once! I did not sleep with your mother; I was helping her, Goddammit!”

  “Helping her what? Get you off because I never put out all weekend? That’s classy Pax, really fucking classy!”

  “Not even close… she was covered in vomit and piss for shit’s sake! Gabe dropped her off with Natasha and left to go and get her prescription filled at the pharmacy. That’s the fucking truth! I walked in there to Natasha refusing to help her, so I did. I love you, and I told you I would never fuck your mom, and I didn’t!”

  I stare at his enraged face for a long minute, wishing I could buy his story, but I saw what I saw, and I know my mother. It was probably one of her schemes to get him to give in to her.

  “I wish I could believe you,” I mutter, looking away. “But I can’t Pax… I just… I can’t.”

  Now my stupid fucking girl tears are pouring out and I have nowhere to fucking hide!

  “Holy shit… are you crying?”

  “What the fuck does it look like?” I snarl, feeling stupid. Kings aren’t supposed to cry.

  “It’s going to be okay, Vix,” he whispers.

  I’m half-cut and defenceless as he pulls me into his man-beast arms, the smell of him making my chest throb even worse as I sob uncontrollably. I don’t want to be crying about him on him for fuck’s sake, but God does he feel nice.

  “Kirsten,” he whispers a long while later.

  I’m emotionally drained and feel like dead weight, I don’t want to move, because if I don’t maybe it won’t be real.

  “Kirsten,” he repeats, “remember when we argued last time and I told you that I never even liked sex until I met you?”

  “Uh-huh, yeah, sort of,” I snivel, not really listening.

  “Well there’s a lot more to it…” he says softly. “Things I’m not sure you will understand, but I’m willing to try to explain it if it will clarify my position for you.”

  I take a deep, quivering breath, trying to focus on what he is saying as I wipe my eyes and sit up.

  I can tell by his face he is really digging deep to tell me something that isn’t easy for him, and I know he wouldn’t bother putting himself through it if he wasn’t telling the truth.

  I look into his pained eyes and take a solemn breath.

  “Christ, Pax, you really didn’t fuck her, did you?”

  He shakes his head no.

  “There is no way I could have even if I wanted too, Vix. She isn’t you. No one else is you. This dick…” he says, pointing to his pants, “it only comes alive for one woman. It’s broken or something… I couldn’t even get it up for that hot waitress I tried to fuck back in December… and boy was it embarrassing. I don’t know, but I think it’s a side effect of the sinister shit I did as a kid, or maybe I’m just getting old, but either way I don’t care. I just need us to be Whiskey and Vixen again.”

  I half-smile at him and roll my eyes to his sweet but serious face, feeling relieved.

  “I still have questions though.”

  “About my dick?”

  “No, you big dummy… about the gun and how the hell you found me out here.”

  “Oh,” he laughs, “I got the gun from the lawyer schmuck’s trunk… thought I might need it depending on where you were headed. As for finding you, I used a tracking app on your mother’s cell phone. There’s a chip inside your helmet.”

  “What the fuck? Are you serious? Since when?”

  “Since always. It came like that… it’s for riders who travel long distances, just in case they get lost or stranded. I didn’t put it in there if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh… okay… well that explains how you tracked me to the motel, but how did you find me up the street at the bar?”

  “What do you take me for?” he growls. “I know you Vixen, I know what happens when you are upset: Hate-Fuck city! I knew the bar was the first place you’d go to ease the tension.”

  I shrug and laugh, knowing he’s right.

  “And about your family,” I mumble, feeling guilty. “I get if you’re mad, but I didn’t actually pay them to leave, I just offered Verna a hand with a plan she already had set in motion.”

  “I figured as much. She’s been telling me for the last year to stop visiting and to stop giving her money. I think looking at me just made shit worse for her.” He pauses for a moment. His eyes meet mine, gleaming with a sense of support. “Thank you, Vix. You really are a saint.”

  “Thanks for what? And I am not a saint.”

  “For making sure they would be okay. You didn’t have to. And yes, you are, you’re as fucking sweet as it gets.”

  “They are your family. I did what anyone would have done. You don’t need to thank me… and I am not going to argue with you about the saint shit.”

  “Good,” he growls, “because I’d rather spend the rest of this night making love to you.”

  I bust out laughing at his sly smile and climb on top of him.

  “I don’t think either of us even know how to make love,” I admit as I remove my shirt. “But we can practice.”

  He rolls me off of him swiftly and begins to undress, so I follow suit, watching him peel off his shirt and then his pants. This man has the most beautiful body and the stories of strength to go with it, and he’s mine.

  I push him onto the bed, straddle him and trace my fingers up his stomach, following them with my tongue, until my lips reach his, tasting his sweet whiskey flavour.

  His hands grip my hips as we kiss in a slow, deliberate rhythm, our tongues exploring each other’s as if for the first time.

  It’s a profounder connection between us, one I never knew could get any fiercer, but here I am taking in the way he is gently stroking my back and teasing my hair. His hands are patient and calm, his moans quiet, not a growl coming from him as I leisurely rub my dampness over his erection.

  I moan into his mouth and shut my eyes, relished in the sensual nature of our bodies becoming one as I push myself onto him.

  “Fuck yes, Vixen. I swear you were so built for this dick,” Pax utters into my mouth.

  “Shh, no talking, just feel.”

  He glides his hands onto my breasts as I ride him as unhurried and deep as I can, denying my desire to move faster.

  I can feel his body beginning to tense, his muscles flexing all around me and I think he too is fighting his urg
e to get rowdy.

  I’m so wet, so needy and I can tell he is on the verge of cumming as he entertains his tongue with my nipple and slips his hands down onto my hips to help me keep the pace.

  “Fuck, Pax,” I moan.

  “I know,” he growls, his hips starting to buck.

  I grip his arms and tilt my head back, and I can no longer hold the pace, I need to fuck this man damnit!

  “It’s okay, Vixen, let go and just hate-fuck me already,” he hisses.

  I take that as a checkered flag and start to ride him hard and fast, the way I need to. The way I know we both need it.

  My climax is close as I dig my nails into his arms, taking in the way he slams me down so hard against him I can feel his dick sentencing my insides.

  “Holy fuck, Whiskey.”

  “I know, Vix, I know,” he says, breathless.

  I begin to come apart, arching my back as he growls, his dick spilling into me as my body convulses in his hands and our intense moans fill the room.

  “Shit!” I pant, “So much for making love. I really tried for a bit there, but it was just weird.”

  “It’s fine,” Pax laughs, “it was weird for me too. We just have to keep practicing.”

  “Nah… screw practicing, I like the way we are, and I already love whatever the fuck it is you are!”

  I kiss his sweaty forehead and lay my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as I draw lazy circles over his tatted abs.

  My eyes are closing to the warmth and comfort of his body, the way he’s weaving his fingers through my hair. I could lay right here forever with him, just like this, until the end of time.

  “Vixen?” he murmurs.

  “Yeah?”

  “You do realize your mother is innocent and that you left a running lawn tractor in her living room, right?”

  “Yes,” I laugh, not feeling guilty. “But she’s only innocent this time, so, she can just accept that and all the other shit I terrorized as payback for all of the other times she messed with me.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that ought to teach her,” he laughs, kissing the top of my head. “But something tells me she’s already learned her lesson.”

  “I doubt it,” I say, yawning. “The last time Satan learned a lesson was um… never.”

  “I’m being serious, Vix, she’s different.”

  “Don’t be dumb. You spent a little over an hour with her trying to help her sorry ass, I hardly think that qualifies you as an expert in the field of Lucifer and her practices.”

  “I’ve been paying attention for three years,” he points out. “All I’m saying is that you should give her a chance.”

  I roll the other way and sigh, unable to think anymore.

  “Fine Pax, I’ll go back with you to the underworld in the morning, but can we please just go to sleep now?”

  He shifts his body around mine and the weight of his arms around me is contenting.

  “I love you, Vix,” he whispers.

  I pull his arm around me tighter.

  “Goodnight, Whiskey. I love-hate you more.”

  Eleven

  My Mother’s Daughter

  We are heading back to the Hill to face Helen King, the ruler of hell herself, and the very woman who birthed and taught me the golden rule: Kings don’t cry. This is going to be a literal shit show.

  My mother has always been madder than the devil, and despite what Pax chooses to believe, I know this is a bad idea. I can feel it in my soul.

  I stare at the back of the Ninja as the sun rises while I tail Pax down the highway with the Beamer. The one I so angrily etched my cursed name onto the side of. Even after all of the darkness that man has seen between his own fucked up life and my dysfunctional joke for a family, he’s still optimistic. I love it about him but at the same time, it kills me that he thinks people change. People don’t change, we are what we are. I proved it last night with the whole hate-fuck scenario.

  Regardless, I would follow Whiskey anywhere, to the ends of the earth and back. He’s my ride or die, my tainted love, and in the end, he is the only family I will ever need.

  He taps on the car window, gesturing for me to roll it down as I sit idling in front of the house staring at the blown-out hole in the garage door.

  “It’s going to be fine, just come inside. I’ll be right beside you.”

  His reassuring smile fills me with a sense of strength, and I shut off the engine and exit the car.

  “How did I ever get so lucky?”

  “You didn’t get lucky,” he laughs, “you got drunk… and then you almost pissed on my tent in Dellwood Park.”

  I cross my arms and lean against the car thinking about it.

  “I’d still say that was lucky, who else can say they met their man-beast drifter boyfriend in the middle of a park in a gated community for rich schmucks?”

  “Well when you put it that way,” he says with a wink. “You do know I was scoping out the neighborhood to rob it though, right?”

  I laugh and shake my head.

  “And how exactly did you plan to transport the stolen goods? Nice try… but you never really did tell me why you were actually camped in the park that night,” I say, squinting at him.

  He leans against the car beside me, both of us staring out at the quiet, empty streets as the sun hits it’s mid-morning position over the peak of the Hill. A beautiful sight, but one I would have preferred to skip this morning when I awoke in Pax’s arms to a cup of coffee while he insisted we head back at the crack of ass to face the music.

  “Well?” I ask, nudging him. “Why were you tenting it in Dellwood the night we met?”

  “If I tell you, do you promise we will go inside and check on your mother?”

  “Fuck, fine,” I whine, “but don’t skimp out on the details.”

  I kind of hope his story lasts all day. I do not want to go in the house at all.

  “You remember the lawyer I told you about?”

  I nod.

  “Yeah, the stupid prick that defended the ped—”

  “Yes!” he hisses cutting me off.

  He grips my hand and squeezes it and I know he’s telling me he doesn’t want to talk about them, just the lawyer.

  I squeeze it back and kiss him on the cheek.

  “Anyways, the lawyer…” I prod.

  “He lives in your neighborhood.”

  “Oh?”

  My heart begins to pound, my mind filling with questions.

  “I was here that night to finish what I had planned for the schmuck; I’d been stalking him for months.”

  I turn and look him in the eyes.

  “And did you? Finish it?”

  He laughs a sincere laugh and shakes his head.

  “Nope… I ended up carrying a drunk seventeen-year-old up a giant fucking hill home to her daddy.”

  “You rescued me,” I blush, taking in his deep loving gaze.

  “Wrong again, Vixen,” he pauses running his fingers over my necklace, “it was you who saved me, my saint. Had I not met you, I would have done something I’d be regretting for the rest of my life.”

  “See… it was luck, just. Like. I. Said.”

  “No, it was fate, and stop trying to start an argument. You promised we would go inside if I told you.”

  “Yeah but if we hate-fuck first it’ll get me in the mood to deal with the Devil,” I say, raising my brows up and down.

  “It’s not happening!” Pax states, smacking my ass. “Now get moving.”

  I growl at him to the best of my ability, but he ignores me and follows me inside. The sitting room is still completely destroyed and there is no sign of Mother or Gabe.

  “Maybe they fucked off?” I tell Pax.

  “Maybe they’re still in bed,” he retorts, smacking my ass, again, and jutting his head toward the stairs.

  I roll my eyes and drag him up the staircase and all the way down the hallway until we reach Mother’s room where I tap on the door.


  “One sec,” I hear Gabe say.

  He opens the door, eyes us over, and waves us in as I look at my mother, noting she is out of it and looks like absolute shit.

  “Maybe we should give them a minute,” Gabe tells Pax.

  “Sure thing, schmuck, I’ll be in the hall if you need me, Vix.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I walk closer and take a seat on the edge of the bed.

  “After you, hobo,” I hear Gabe gripe.

  “Nah, you can go first, minion, I’m a gentleman,” Pax replies.

  “What the fuck you guys? Just get out already!” I hiss, annoyed.

  Jesus! They aren’t in the room twelve seconds together and they are already bickering.

  I take a confounding breath to calm myself as I hear the door close and I return to studying my mother’s pale face. She looks old somehow, weathered and worn. I’ve never seen her like this, and it’s almost sad. Is this what detox looks like? The nightstand is riddled with medications and used tissue, and there is a pail on the floor. I can’t help but feel kind of sorry for her as I grab her hand and skim over her warm knuckles with my thumb.

  “Kirsten,” she says, stirring, “you’re home.”

  Her voice is weak, but caring, a tone I have never heard from her. Ever.

  “Yeah, Pax dragged me back this morning. He said you’ve been sick.”

  “Was,” she says sternly. “Was sick… for a very long time, but I’m trying to fight it. I have a sponsor now; her name is Claire. She says alcoholism is the work of Satan… I laughed and told her my daughter would agree.”

  I look at her genuine smile in disbelief.

  “You talked about me?”

  “Yes,” she nods, “and about your father too. I have a counselor as well; he gave me some medications and a book he wants me to read.”

  “A book?” I laugh, confused.

  “The Bible,” she says proudly. “He says it’ll give me strength and bring peace to me.”

  “Well, he, sounds like a fucking whackjob!”

  “I thought so too,” she laughs, “but if it might help me repair the horrible things I’ve done, then I’m willing to read it.”

  I look away, not wanting to see the guilt in her eyes, the pooling tears, it’s weird and I’m not sure I can trust it.