Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
I moved to the side of the clubhouse, keeping Honey close to my side. I could feel her heart hammering where she was pressed against me, her breath coming in quick little gasps. I looked down at her. A cacophony of emotions flickered across her face as loud as if she were broadcasting them through the biggest subwoofer imaginable. The poor girl was terrified, but there was also a wild kind of lust gleaming in her dazed and confused gaze.
"You okay?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
She nodded, one hand still at her throat where Shank had grabbed her. "I—I think so." Her eyes met mine, a mixture of gratitude and wariness. "What did you mean? About me being... yours? What just happened?”
I didn't have an answer that would make sense to either of us. All I knew was that from the moment I'd seen her walk through that door, something primitive and possessive had awakened in me. I'd staked my claim without thinking, acting on pure instinct.
"It means you're under my protection now," I said finally. "No one in this town touches you without answering to me."
Her eyes widened slightly. "But I barely know you."
"Doesn't matter." I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, still swollen from my kiss. "You're in my world now, darlin'. And in my world, what I say goes."
I felt her shiver against me, but she didn't pull away. She was scared. She'd be a fool not to be. But there was something else there too. A recognition, maybe, that her life had just changed irrevocably.
Mine to protect. Mine to possess.
Mine to keep safe from the storm that was coming.
Chapter 2
Honey
Ifollowed Jack down the narrow hallway, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs. The sounds of the fight still echoed in the distance, but the commotion tapered off other than the occasional groan or thud. My neck throbbed where the other guy had come close to strangling me, and my lips still burned from Jack's brutal kiss. I doubt I should have put the two sensations in the same category, but while neither had been invited, I can’t say I hadn’t like Jack’s kiss.
Freaking “Bloody” Jack Mason! He ruled Bound in Blood MC with an iron fist. Though they had a reputation of being brutal to their enemies and there had been a few attempts at pinning various violent crimes on the club, they’d all been proven wrong. Didn’t mean they were innocent, only that they hadn’t been caught.
The memory of Jack’s kiss sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine as I trailed behind his massive frame, watching the muscles of his back flex beneath his blood-spattered shirt with each purposeful stride.
My legs trembled with every step, adrenaline draining from my system and leaving behind a bone deep exhaustion. Twenty minutes ago, I'd been dancing awkwardly with Wren, pretending I belonged here. Now I was following a man called "Bloody Jack" who'd just beaten several men unconscious and then declared me his property.
What the hell was happening to my life?
Jack stopped at a door near the end of the hallway, producing a key from his pocket and unlocking it with practiced efficiency. He pushed it open and motioned for me to enter first. I hesitated, and his eyes narrowed. Not threatening, exactly, but expectant. Used to being obeyed.
I swallowed hard and stepped inside. It would take a braver person than me to defy this man.
The room was spartan but unmistakably lived-in. A large bed dominated the space, its dark sheets rumpled as if he had just rolled out moments before.
Motorcycle memorabilia covered most of the wall space. Vintage signs, framed patches, and photos of men in leather cuts standing around bikes should have looked cluttered but didn’t. A rack of knives, guns, and other weapons I couldn't name hung on the wall opposite the bed. Club photos were pinned haphazardly beside the intimidating California King. The faces of all those rough looking men staring back at me reminded me this situation wasn’t the romanticized version. I could very well be in big trouble. This was the den of a predator, and I was very much the prey.
Jack's massive frame filled the doorway as he entered behind me, closing and locking the door with a decisive click. I jumped at the sound, my nerves already frayed to breaking point.
"You need a property cut," he growled, tossing his keys onto a dresser covered with spare change, and what looked like two sets of brass knuckles. "And until it's finished, you stay here or at my side."
"A... what?" My voice came out small and uncertain.
"Property cut is a vest you’ll wear any time you’re dressed. Tells everyone who you belong to." His glacial blue eyes bored into me, unblinking and intense. "Now. Why the fuck are you pretending to be something you're not?"