Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Everything was run through the prez, but unlike a lot of men, it wasn’t a power trip for King. It was how he kept chaos from contaminating our club. He took our failures on his shoulders and shared the successes with the club as a whole. And he hadn’t demanded our unwavering trust; he’d fucking earned it. Every one of us knew that he would die to protect us.
In return for our loyalty and faith, he gave us more independence in the right circumstances. He seemed to know exactly when one of us needed freedom to complete a task, and it was a reminder that we also had his trust.
I shifted carefully, managing to pull my arm from beneath Maren without waking her. She made a soft sound in her throat and turned toward the warmth I left behind, her face pressing into the pillow like she was already used to having me sleep beside her.
My chest clenched at the sight of her bare shoulders exposed, one long leg kicked free of the covers. The hem of my shirt rode up dangerously high, and I caught a glimpse of white lace between her thighs. Fuck. My cock twitched, thick and heavy, ready for me to crawl right back into bed and bury my dick where it belonged.
But I forced myself to move. I leaned over her instead, bracing my forearm beside her head, and let my mouth graze her temple. She smelled like sleep, sex, and something softer. A scent that had already become an addiction.
“Sleep, baby,” I murmured against her skin. “I’ll be back soon.”
She didn’t stir, just sighed softly and settled deeper into the blankets. I stood there for another full minute, just watching her breathe, before I finally turned away. My jaw was tight, and my fists were clenched as I stalked into the bathroom to shower. The tension was still there as I pulled on jeans, boots, a shirt, and the cut that marked me as a Hound.
By the time I left the room and made my way downstairs, I was fully in mission mode.
Today, everything was about to change. Because after this morning, Maren wouldn’t just be under my protection—she’d be under the club’s. Anyone who tried to touch her would find out what it really meant to fuck with the Hounds of Hellfire.
The door to King’s office was already cracked open when I approached, the low murmur of voices filtering out into the hallway.
I shoved the door all the way open and stepped inside, nodding to each of the brothers as I crossed to the couch in a small sitting area on the left side of the office. King was behind his desk, wearing his signature scowl. Blaze stood to his right, his arms folded and expression unreadable. Wizard was already hunched over his laptop at the conference table, his fingers flying across the keys like he was personally trying to set the whole internet on fire.
One of our enforcers, Tomcat, leaned back in a chair near the bar, one boot up on the table, sipping black coffee and talking in low tones with Fallon, his best friend and another enforcer. Cross, the club’s captain, sat across from them, thumbing through a sheaf of papers. Ace stood near the window, talking quietly into his phone, probably scrubbing money trails or charming some government accountant into giving him data he legally wasn’t cleared to have.
Ink, another enforcer and world-class tattoo artist, strolled in right after me and took one of the open seats at the conference table.
We had more enforcers and officers, but it wasn’t necessary to have every Hound in the room. King would make sure they were all aware of the situation.
“Look who finally got out of bed,” Tomcat drawled. “Didn’t think we’d see you this morning. Figured you’d be too busy keeping your girl sore.”
Cross snorted without looking up. “Bet he only came because the sheets were still damp and he ran outta stamina.”
“Jealousy’s a bitch, brother,” I muttered flatly as I dropped onto the cushions. “Especially when your record’s thirty seconds and an apology.”
King’s dog, Cerberus, lifted his massive head from where he’d been sprawled next to him on the floor and lumbered across the room to sit right in front of me.
He let out a low, warning growl, a sound that would scare the living shit out of anyone who didn’t know him. Then he leaned in and headbutted my thigh.
I scratched behind his ears without missing a beat, and the big bastard climbed onto the couch and flopped onto his back, all one hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and menace turning into a belly-up beggar.
King rolled his eyes as his fearsome beast morphed into something soft and cuddly.
The Cane Corso was a trained guard dog and built like a creature born to guard the gates of hell—hence the name. With strangers, he embodied the badass sentry, although once he decided they weren’t a threat, they were completely ignored.