Blood and Grace – Book of Legion – Badlands MC Read Online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: J.A. Huss Advertisement

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Forty-seven thousand acres of Ashby land. Six generations of Montana dynasty. And one daughter who was never going to be allowed to choose a man called Legion.

They were caught at the silo at midnight. Same place they've been hookin’ up for years.

While Savannah’s fiancé had her bound to a bed and drugged out of her mind, Legion was getting the life beat out of him by a bunch of cowboys.

Her family thought violence would be enough to end it.
They were wrong.
It only made the bond stronger.

Now Savannah has to prove what it means to stand by her man and Legion has to convince forty-seven patched members of the Badlands MC that protecting her will be worth it.

Outlaw clubhouse.
Public claiming.
Loyalty test.

Church At Dawn.

BLOOD AND GRACE

Down on your knees—it’s time to choose sides

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

I wake slowly to bright light and soft piano music. The kind of light one finds in hospitals and forces you to squint, the kind of music one finds in elevators that forces you to forget.

My head is throbbing and feels… too full. Like it’s stuffed with cotton. The nasty taste in my mouth has me craving water. I try to move my hand to my face, but I can’t.

I'm tied down.

The panic is immediate. My eyes fly open. The ceiling swims into focus—knotty pine beams. A chandelier made from antlers. Hunting cabin.

An Ashby hunting cabin.

I pull against whatever's holding my wrists.. Hard and unyielding. Not rope. Zip ties.

I can move my legs a little and I feel air on my thighs. I’m still wearing my dress, but it's hiked up and this is when I remember.

I’m not wearing underwear.

Legion.

The silo.

Oh God.

"Legion," I whisper, my voice cracking. The memory slams back—flashlights cutting through darkness. Cash's voice. Men dragging Legion away. His body hitting the ground. Blood.

"He can't hear you, darling." Marcus's voice makes my skin crawl. I turn my head and there he is, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. Watching me. Smiling.

"Where is he?" My throat feels raw. From screaming. I was screaming for Legion.

"Don't worry about him." Marcus rises, straightens his slacks. Still dressed like we're at a country club. "Are you thirsty? You must be parched."

Wrong. This is wrong. All wrong.

"Untie me." I try to sound firm, but my voice trembles.

"In time." He moves to a small table, pours water into a glass. "You need to rest first. You've had quite the shock."

Shock?

I test the restraints again. Tight. Professional. "Marcus, this isn't funny. Untie me now."

He approaches with the glass, a bendy straw poking out the top. Like I'm in a hospital. Like he's helping.

"Careful now," he says, holding the straw to my lips. "Small sips."

I'm so thirsty I drink despite myself. The water tastes clean, at least.

"Where am I?" I ask, when he pulls the glass away.

"Somewhere safe." He smiles. That campaign smile. Perfect teeth. Dead eyes. "The north ridge cabin. No one will bother us here."

North ridge. Miles from the main house. Miles from anyone.

"My brothers⁠—"

"—know you're with me." He sets the glass down, then brushes hair from my forehead with cool fingers. I flinch. "Everyone's very concerned about your... episode."

"Episode?"

"Your breakdown, sweetheart. After what that criminal did to you."

The fire crackles as logs shift. I'm suddenly aware of framed photographs on the walls. My face. Over and over. Childhood shots. Riding competitions. One of us at a charity gala. All perfectly arranged.

Like a shrine.

"I didn't have a breakdown," I say carefully. "And Legion didn't do anything to me I didn't want."

Marcus's smile doesn't waver, but something flickers behind his eyes. "You're confused. That's understandable after trauma."

"I'm not confused, Marcus. I want you to untie me. Right now."

He ignores this, moving to retrieve a tray from the small kitchenette. "You should eat something. I made your favorite."

The tray holds a plate of food. Mashed potatoes. Roast chicken. Green beans. A meal I've never once told him I liked.

"Marcus, please." I soften my voice. Sunday manners. The ones Mama taught me for dealing with difficult men. "I'd feel much better if I could sit up properly."

"Soon." He sits on the edge of the bed. Too close. "First, let me take care of you."

He scoops up mashed potatoes with a silver spoon. Holds it to my lips.

"I can feed myself if you untie me."

"Open wide," he says, like I'm a child.

I press my lips together. His eyes harden.

"Savannah." The single word is a warning. "Don't be difficult."

My survival instinct kicks in. Play along, Savannah. For now.

I open my mouth. The potatoes are still hot. Not terrible. Butter and garlic. But my stomach turns as he watches me chew with naked satisfaction.

"Good girl," he murmurs, wiping a bit from the corner of my mouth with a cloth napkin. "See? I take good care of what's mine."

Mine.

I swallow hard. "Marcus, what happened to Legion?"

He feeds me another spoonful before answering. "That's not important."

"It is to me."

"He got what was coming to him." His voice remains pleasant. Conversational. "Men like that always do."

Fear claws up my throat. "Is he⁠—"

"Let's not talk about him." Marcus cuts a piece of chicken. "Let's talk about us. Our future."

"There is no us." The words slip out before I can stop them.

His hand freezes midair. "Don't say that, darling. Not after everything I've done for you."

"What have you done, Marcus?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Distant. "Tied me to a bed? Drugged me?"

"Protected you." He sets the fork down, leans closer. "Saved you from yourself." His breath smells like mint and whiskey. His cologne—expensive, sandalwood—fills my nostrils.

"I don't need saving."

"Oh, but you do." He traces my jawline with one finger. "You always have. That's why your mother chose me."


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