My Four Biker Stepbrothers

Chapter 3: We are Your Family

[Emma POV]

"Shh," he whispered, his breath a moving heat on my lips, tasting of night and risk. "The fight's out of you for the moment. Good girl."

He spoke to me as if I were a child, and I should have resented it. But instead, I felt a warm, embarrassing blush rise on my chest, thankfully where he couldn’t see it. My n*****s hardened into throbbing tips against the coarse texture of my shirt, a silent, shameful witness to the power of his tone.

He didn't step away. His eyes fell to my lips, and for one moment of heart-stopping second, I thought he would close the scant distance between us and claim it. The air vibrated, heavy with the hum of the revving engines and the unspoken, raw tension spinning in the air between our bodies.

"Scream it, curse my name, hate me for bringing you here all you want, Emma," he whispered, his voice so soft that it became a kind of caress. "But your body…" His gaze dragged down my throat, over the wild beat of my pulse that I knew was pounding there, down to where my breasts were still pressed against the chill leather of his coat. "...your body's already learning who to listen to. I felt it on the bike. Every time you clung to me more tightly. Every time you gasped into my back."

A burning, aching heat flared up deep inside my stomach, a pool of hot liquid shame and unwilling desire. I clenched myself, hollow and hurting, a raw physical craving that buried the sorrow under one sickening, perfect moment.

He finally released my chin, his knuckles brushing down my throat in a whisper of a touch that felt more invasive than any grip.

“Now breathe,” he commanded softly, his eyes holding mine captive. “And get used to the ache. It’s all you’re going to feel for a long, long time.”

He turned and headed inside, leaving me where I stood, my body blazing with heat and my core throbbing with a heat that was entirely his doing.

"Don't stray, little cat," I heard someone say as a hand closed around my wrist. His fingers were big and powerful, his grip encircling mine like a shackle of flesh and heat. "The night will devour you alive in there."

I looked at him in confusion, and he smirked before introducing himself. "Ryder," he said, the fourth one, the one who had stood outside the house when they came to pick me up.

My knees began to shake beneath me. "And you won't?"

For an instant, his mouth quivered. "We don't devour family....." he said it, his gaze stripping the word 'family' of all its meaning. "...unless its a kiss."

I gasped and rushed inside the house. Inside was worse, thick with heat, smoke, sweat, and fire. Shouts and laughter echoed through the packed space, bodies swaying like shadowed skin to a beat with no melody, only rhythm. Eyes slid my way, some curious, some cold, some hungry enough to make my skin crawl.

The others followed, silent hunters flanking their prey. The third stepbrother, wild and grinning, jawline carved for sin, claimed me first. He slung an arm over my shoulders like he owned me, the leather of his jacket cool against my bare skin.

"Relax, princess," he whispered against my ear, his breath warm, smelling of whiskey and danger. "You're safe with us. Well… safe enough."

I pushed him away roughly, my voice trembling with anger. "Don't touch me."

He laughed, tilting his head back, that crooked smile spreading. "Ouch!!! I like that. You'll fit right in."

The second stepbrother gazed at me with shadow eyes, dark and un-readable, the pale scar above his jaw catching the crimson light as he shifted. He said nothing, but I could sense his focus as a blade at my spine. I hate them. But my body was betraying me.

My pulse raced, skin tight, lungs shallow. A dark hum stirred inside, something deep and sinister. This place made me feel exposed like never before. They pushed me onto a worn couch. The music shook me. I curled up, holding myself, refusing to cry. But when I closed my eyes, I saw the birthday candles that never lit, my mother broken and I shattered again.

Tears seared behind my lids, and I hid my face in my hands. I didn't belong here. I didn't belong anywhere. A shadow passed over me.

I looked up, Ryder stood over me, smiling lazy and menacing. His hair was messy, like he'd just fought or f****d, tattoos peeking from his half-zipped jacket. He leaned in, palms beside me, trapping me.

"Why the tears, little sister?" he whispered. "Are you missing your mum? I know you are, but crying never helps."

"Go away." I tried to say it, but my voice broke instead.

He didn't budge. Instead, he leaned in closer, his nose grazing against mine, his warmth seeping into the cold that had settled deep in my bones. His lips were inches from mine, not touching, but close enough to steal my breath.

"You don't really want me to leave," he whispered. "Do you?"

My heart pounded against my ribcage. I wanted to yell. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to kiss him. I had no idea what the hell I wanted, but my body leaned in ahead of my mind. My lips opened, quivering. The air around us charged. I was drowning in something I couldn't define, and he was the flame dragging me down.

Then.....

"Enough." The voice broke across the room like a lash, raw and angry.

Ryder was yanked back in an instant, his smirk growing wider with amusement. He stood, hands raised in mock surrender. "Always so protective, Jax. You sure you’re not the one who wants her?"

Jaxon remained several feet away, fists balled at his sides, his eyes seething with anger. His jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared. He was the first stepbrother I came here with.

He grabbed Ryder by the collar and pulled him back a step. "Let her breathe," he snarled. "She just lost her mother. Let her cry first, so she can move on with her life."

Ryder laughed, shooing him off with a shrug of his shoulders."You think I don’t care about her? She was crying, so I just wanted to help her forget everything." He gazed at me a second time, this time more slowly, on purpose. His tongue darted out to stroke his bottom lip in a silent vow.

My entire body was shaking under his lustful gaze.

Jaxon turned to me, moving in close again. His tone was softer now, but no less cutting. "Don’t worry, Emma. He won’t bother you again."

My throat constricted. "I don't want to live here. I want to go home."

His jaw flexed. This is your home now, Emma. Try to accept it, the sooner, the better."

It hit me like a stone in my chest. The truth of living with them hurt more than anything. Because I knew that he was right. The life I had with my mother, the cottage, the peace, was gone. And all that was left was this new world: cold, brutal, full of teeth. A world I didn't know the rules of. A world I didn't know myself in. Four stepbrothers I didn't know. Four storms I didn't want to endure.

"From now on, we are your family—Ryder, Maddox, Cain, and me," Jaxon said as he left me alone.