Dante (Hell's Ankhor #6) - Aiden Bates Page 0,81

of constantly being escorted and followed and fussed over, if I didn’t get some space to process what had happened last night, I was going to lose my mind.

Last night was…

Overwhelming and easy and incredibly sexy. I’d spent a lot of time imagining what it’d be like when I first had sex. But I’d never imagined it could be like that. It’d felt beyond good. It was like for the first time in my life I could truly, fully relax. Just let go and live in the moment. It felt like the first time I’d ridden my motorcycle: freeing, thrilling, like the only thing that existed was each breath. But it was better than that. Better because I could simply let go of my need to control everything, at least for a little while. I could stop worrying about the future or ruminating in the past and let Dante keep me in the moment. The release wasn’t just physical. It was like for the first time, my mind could finally let go completely, too.

And this morning he’d kissed me deeply before he’d left to take care of Liberty business, and I’d jerked off quickly in the shower, but it hadn’t done much to quell the burning under my skin. It was like now that I’d had a taste of that I only wanted more, more, more. I just needed to blow off some steam. A ride wouldn’t take care of the problem, but it’d help.

“Why don’t you have Coop ride with you?” Gunnar asked.

“I just need some alone time,” I said. “Come on. I’ve been babysat for a month. Just let me get me some fresh air. I promise I won’t tell on you to Dante if you let me.”

Coop grimaced. “I’ve got patrols now anyway.”

“See? We’ve got so many people on the lookout, I’ll be fine. I’m not trying to go anywhere far,” I argued. “I’m just gonna ride and come straight back.”

I felt like a kid begging my parents to extend the curfew. I understood the reasoning behind the protectiveness, and I was even grateful for it, but it was really beginning to wear on me. What was the point of being in a motorcycle club if I couldn’t ride my damn bike?

Gunnar sighed deeply and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “All right,” he relented. “But keep your location turned on in your phone, okay?”

“That’s fair,” I said with a grin. “Totally fair deal.”

Gunnar grimaced like he was already regretting it, but I was already heading toward the door.

I wheeled my bike from the clubhouse garage and took off toward the lake with no real destination in mind. I just wanted to be on back roads—narrow, winding, and empty, so I could go fast and far. Let the adrenaline of riding shake some of the restlessness from me.

I rode for about an hour, into the mountains and around the lake, enjoying the brush of the breeze on my face and sun sparkling on the lake’s still surface. It worked—I calmed down a little, sinking into that easy meditative headspace that riding always created, the one that was so similar to following Dante’s instructions and trusting him to make everything right. Except now it was just me, the bike, and the asphalt.

I was heading back toward Elkin Lake when the rumble of engines pulled me out of my reverie. Frustration chewed at me. My brothers-in-arms couldn’t even let me out of their sight for an hour?

I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see Gunnar and Jazz riding behind me.

Except it wasn’t them. The three bikes were unfamiliar. And the helmets were deeply tinted.

But those beat-up jackets. The lack of patches.

The biker in front gunned his bike and sped up. Fuck. How the hell had they gotten through the patrols? Could I outrun them? Could I make it back into Elkin Lake where they might get spooked and run off?

The engine roared. His front wheel nudged mine and my bike wobbled. I regained my balance and pushed my engine harder. Just had to get away. I pushed down the fear bubbling my chest. As soon as I was closer to Elkin Lake, they’d leave me alone.

The bike in front nudged my wheel again.

Fuck. Fuck. I focused on my balance and tried to get a little more speed. I could see the turnoff that led back into town. All I had to do was push a little harder—go a little faster—

One of the other two bikers gunned his bike and

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