Puck's Property: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 5) by Monique Moreau

Author:Monique Moreau [Moreau, Monique]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Moreau Imprint
Published: 2021-01-20T18:30:00+00:00

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“Die, motherfucker, die!”

Ava struggled out of sleep. A rough, animalistic sound coming from beside her shattered the stillness of her bedroom. She bolted up, shaking the cotton out of her head until she got her bearings. The hairs on the back of her neck went stiff. Blinking her eyes, she adjusted to the darkness and turned to find Puck twisted into contortions, his face scowling and grunting. A few more curses flew out of him.

He jackknifed up and bellowed out, “I’m gonna kill you!” and then fell back down on his back.

She jerked at his outburst, her hand clutching her racing heart. Night terrors. Leaning over, she checked the digital clock on her nightstand. It was 2:47 a.m. He was in his REM sleep cycle, for sure. While she yearned to give him relief, there was only one option.

Wait it out.

Hands clenched around the edge of the bedsheet and blanket; his head swiveled from side to side on the pillow. Moonlight streamed through the windows, falling on the sweat dotting his forehead and the strands of soaked hair along his hairline. He must have been suffering for a while.

Fearing to touch him in his agitated state, Ave laid on her side, facing him, and sang the first thing that came to mind. “Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock.” Her voice was soft and raspy, but she sang until her voice was too hoarse to go on. She continued humming the silly nursery rhyme until, finally, he settled into quiet sleep.

Ever so slowly, she crept off the bed, rushed to the bathroom for a washcloth and returned to gently pat him dry. Flinging the cloth on the floor, she returned to bed and cuddled against his side. As if sensing that she’d left and returned, he rolled over and gathered her close into his arms. Using his bicep as a pillow for her head, Ava inhaled the woodsy scent of him. His large chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

He’d been fast asleep through the entire episode. She’d seen it often enough to recognize that he suffered from Post-Incarceration Syndrome, a common problem, especially for those who’d been recently released. Perhaps he was reliving a fight he’d been in, but the very fact of being imprisoned could trigger PIS. Tomorrow, he’d wake up without a clue of what had transpired in the middle of the night. It was his mind’s way of coping with whatever trauma he’d experienced. Uncomfortable conversations were a part of her work, but she wasn’t looking forward to this one.

She gently brushed the sweat-laden hair off his forehead, traced the bold line of his nose, and outlined the top of his lips. Something had shifted in her after their disciplinary session. Although he’d left her unsatisfied, it had blasted through the final walls she’d unwittingly retained between them. Despite his release, she’d kept a part of herself in reserve. When he’d made her his old lady and said they’d get married, she hadn’t verbally agreed.

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