Zero and Beauty's Breath (A Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club Series Book 3 - 4)

Chapter 44 (Beauty's Breath) (Beggar)

4 months earlier

“Are you going to just stand there, looking at me or give me a hug?” Lucca's eyes hide a secret spell as

they entrance me with just that wide-eyed knowing stare.

“Well, I guess that is exactly what you are doing,” He chuckles and I stand in the foyer of his hotel

room, and watch as he walks closer.

He engulfs me and a dark scented whiff of his cologne embraces me as I put my head against his

chest, until all I can smell, see and feel is him.

“I have missed mi Amor.” His words now all I hear. The beat of his chest silent to his deep dark voice

that covers me in a web of seduction.

“Amariya.” The devil calling my name penetrates through my fog mind that still insists on remembering

the sweet bitter love I had for my husband, Lucca Sanati six and a half years ago.

“Yo, what's up?” I rub my eyes, inhale a deep sounding breath in an attempt to hide my forbidden

thought before looking up to Killer who is standing in front of the hotel rooms armchair I am seated on.

His blue eyes and sharp chiselled face give no hint of emotion, or clue to the killer that lives within him.

I don’t need it to know he knows the one who is on my mind.

“We're heading to Kylie today, get dressed.” The order is given and like Killer, he turns, making a swift

exit to either get ready, train or eat.

I watch his retreating form, frowning at his sudden change of mind.

Yesterday he refused to take me to Kylie. Now we were going

The bathroom door of the en-suite opens and like always, I follow the direction of the sound with a tilt of

my head.

Zero's big body walks out. Naked chest bared to my eyes.

His jeans undone, the black jocks he’s wearing underneath on full display. The hard-protruded lines on

his body visible.

This man is built to be a soldier.

He'd just showered, his skin is still misted. A light sheen blankets his skin, making his arm muscles look

more pronounced than they really are. His broad shoulders that have carried many men to safety flex

and twitch.

I have never asked him why he has a slight tremor. The question seems silly and it is something to look

forward to every morning at seven twenty when he opens that door.

I am never disappointed and he is never late.

All in all, it is hard to miss the powerful, half-naked Enforcer standing and looking at me with eyes I

know intimately.

I gulp when he smiles in that sexy way, I have come to know is his.

HIS one eye smaller when he smiles. The scar under his left eye, the sexiest yet most frightening part

of his facelifts an inch.

Once that scar was the scariest part of him, but now I have come to know this man, with a heart full of

so much to give, once you crack around his hard façade.

A month together on the road has helped me with that.

The fault in this picture is Zero with all his appeal has not had sex with me this past month.

Since Killer, Zero and I left Kanla to hunt down my husband, Lucca after he ordered his men to attack

the clubhouse, Zero and I have slept in the same bed. But he has not touched me further than his hand

on my thighs when we ride, or my breast to his chest and a few short kisses. Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

At night he sleeps on his side and I, on mine.

My dreams have not shown itself, nor has anything triggered a reaction to my living nightmare. I know it

is not me that is the reason, but something more.

What? I don’t know but I will find out.

Before I met The Satan Snipers, a dreamless night’s sleep behind a dumpster would have measured

up to a good day for me. A small break from seeing Lucca’s lustful eyes as his hands choke me until

my own gaze fades into only terror

Time has changed me. Now, when my nightmares do show itself, I know it isn't Lucca's violence on me

that will cripple me, but the screams of another girl, my friend, Kylie Bray.

An innocent girl that was once just a billionaire. A girl I thought was weak.

I was once convinced that she will never survive my life for one day. She proved me wrong, she

survived my hell for weeks and still stands.

On the streets we prove our strengths by our actions, our will to survive to fight and fend for another

hour.

Kylie Bray has proven to be the strongest woman I know. She was raped by my husband’s men for

three weeks, over and over again. Beaten within an inch of her life every day. Hours spent getting

tortured by those sick fucks, while they recorded it. All that, because she chose to help me.

The day I was too weak to stand I landed on her doorstep.

When I rang her doorbell, I opened the floodgates that would become her hell.

I should say that I regret going to her house the night I escaped from the cruel capture of Lucca, but,

then I would never have spent that time with her.

I would have never learned about the quirkiness of Kylie Bray.

The Southern belle that hates Champaign and prefers a pizza over a burger.

She would have never told me that I was worth more than all those zeros in her bank account when all

I felt was nothing but filth toward myself.

And how would I have seen her lopsided smile when I shot an arrow in her window playing Archery, or

her determination to teach me to dive.

I would have never felt the freedom of will when I rode with Killer and her up the mountains and we

watched the blood moon disappear as the sun took its place.

Those memories would have never existed. So how can I regret the horror that came after, when those

moments before were like strange magic of could BE's I will never get back.

She still stands, but I have not seen her.

I have not looked into her eyes and told her I am sorry, because her brother, Killer did not let me.