Savage Kings MC Box Set 2

by Lane Hart

  All Rights Reserved.

  Only Amazon has permission from the publisher to sell and distribute this title.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editor’s Choice Publishing

  P.O. Box 10024

  Greensboro, NC 27404

  Edited by Angela Snyder

  Cover by Marianne Nowicki of www.PremadeEbookCoverShop.com

  Photo by Andrei Vishnyakov https://www.instagram.com/vishstudio/

  WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18. IT CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE AND GRAPHIC SEX SCENES.

  Synopsis

  Everything changed two years ago.

  Evelyn Young was only eighteen when she agreed to marry an outlaw biker. There was no other way for her to pay the medical bills her mother was accruing, so she said goodbye to her longtime best friend Cedric Crawford and ran away with the bad boy.

  Not a day goes by that Evelyn doesn’t miss her old life with Cedric. The only way she survives with an abusive spouse is by reminding herself that her mother is still thankfully fighting for her life.

  Evelyn never thought she would see Cedric again; but while she was busy popping pills to stay numb, Cedric’s been making plans.

  Big plans.

  When Cedric finally comes back into Evelyn’s life, he’s no longer the sweet, innocent boy she left behind. He’s a heck of a lot bigger with sexy tattoos and a brand-new leather cut – a symbol of the badass man he’s become.

  Not a man but a Savage King.

  And a King will do whatever it takes to save his Queen.

  Prologue

  Evelyn Young

  Eight years ago…

  A new town, a new home, new people, all thanks to my parents’ divorce. Mama decided she wanted to start fresh where she doesn’t know anyone, which is how we ended up at Emerald Isle. As a family, we had always lived in Greensboro, a city in the middle of North Carolina. But last week, we moved out here to the small, coastal town. The miles of beautiful beaches are the only saving grace so far.

  Tomorrow, I’ll have to go to a new school to start the fifth grade. Everyone there has known each other for years, and I don’t know a single soul. I’m dreading it, but at least today we get to enjoy the beach.

  My mom is stretched out in a lounge chair while I roam up and down the shore, collecting seashells. Or at least trying to. I stop to pick up another white and gold fan-looking shell from the wet sand, thinking it’s whole and beautiful, only to be disappointed yet again when I find a tiny hole at the top of it.

  “Ugh!” I mutter in annoyance at the imperfect shells and my mother and life in general as I raise my arm to sling the shell back out to sea.

  “What did that seashell do to you?” someone asks from behind me.

  I spin around and find a boy either glaring at me or maybe being blinded by the sun. His toothpick arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s only wearing a pair of blue boardshorts that are two sizes too big on his lean frame. His black, wavy hair is thick and in need of a serious trim, but the ocean winds are keeping it out of his squinting eyes at least for a few moments.

  “What?” I ask him in confusion when he just continues to stand there and scowl.

  “Why did you throw that seashell away? Maybe I wanted it.” Sitting beside his feet is a red bucket that’s half full of sand and seashells.

  “It had a hole in it,” I explain to him.

  “So?”

  “So, it was messed up. I only like the ones that are perfect.”

  “Then you’re shit out of luck, buttercup,” he mutters. “If you want a perfect shell, you should probably head down to the Eagles and buy a fake one. Real ones aren’t perfect.”

  Whoa, he has a dirty mouth. My Mama would wash my mouth out with soap if I said ‘shit’.

  “There are a ton of shells up and down this beach,” I tell him, refraining from acting like a baby and calling him out on the swear word. “There has to be at least one that’s perfect.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” he says. “By the time shells end up here, they’ve been beat up, tossed around at sea. All of them may have flaws, but that doesn’t mean they’re not beautiful,” he explains. Reaching down into his bucket, he digs out a few tiny, sand-covered shells in his palm for me to see.

  “Those have holes in them too!” I exclaim in outrage. “Who did that? Did you drill holes in them?”

  “Um, no. My dad would never let me use his drill,” the boy says with a roll of his blueish-silver eyes that are now partially hidden behind his black locks. “Predator mollusks drill the holes in them so that they can eat them.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “That’s life,” he easily counters. “The tougher animals eat the weaker ones.”

  “So, what are you going to do with those shells?” I ask him, nodding to the bucket. I don’t need a reminder about how unfair life can be.

  “I, um, I use them to make necklaces and bracelets or whatever for my mom and some of the girls at school,” he says when he dumps the contents of his hand back inside the bucket.

  “Oh, that’s cool.”

  “Do you want me to make you one?” he asks with a tilt of his head that tosses his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

  “Why would you make one for me? We just met and you don’t even know my name,” I remark.

  “Because you look sad,” he answers right away. “And you’re pretty.”

  “Ah, thanks I guess,” I say, hoping that my sun kissed cheeks don’t reveal my blush at his compliment.

  “I’m Cedric,” he says as he holds out his hand to me.

  “Evelyn,” I tell him as our damp and sandy palms clasp together. The substances act as a glue, making it hard for us to pull apart. For some reason, I’m sort of sad when I lower my hand by my side.

  “What’s your favorite color?” Cedric asks.

  “White.”

  Arching a single eyebrow at me that’s filled with arrogance, he says, “White’s not a color. It’s the absence of color.”

  “So? It’s still my favorite.”

  “Why?” he asks with a frown.

  “Because beautiful, perfect things are white, like snow.”

  “We don’t have snow here,” Cedric tells me.

  “Never?”

  “There have been some snowflakes once in a while, but it never covers the ground. My dad says the ocean waves only meet the packed snow on the beach every ten years or so. I’m ten, but I’ve never seen the ocean and snow mix together yet. Hopefully one day.”

  “Hey, I’m ten too!” I tell him excitedly. “I just moved here to Emerald Isle, and I start school tomorrow.”

  “Cool,” Cedric says. “Maybe we’ll be in the same class.”

  “Maybe so,” I agree, relieved that I could possibly know at least one person at school tomorrow.

  Before Cedric and I get to talk any longer, my Mama calls my name and waves me over. She’s packing up her chair, ready to leave.

  “I’ve got to go. Hope I see you tomorrow,” I tell the kind boy.

  “See you soon,” he agrees as he picks up his bucket and continues his walk down the beach. As we go our separate ways, I can’t help but glance back over my shoulder to see Cedric one more time. That’s when I notice that despite his small size, his shadow looks like a giant.

  Even though I know it’s just the angle of the sun shining down right now in the sky, I can’t help but think that maybe it’s a sign that Cedric could one day be an important person in my life.

  Cedric Crawford

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to walk you in?” my dad asks from the front driver seat of our SUV.

  “Nope.”

  “But we always walk you in on the first day of school,” my mom points out from the passenger side.

  “Not this year. I’m going t
o the fifth grade! I’m not a baby who needs his parents to hold his hand anymore,” I remind both of them.

  “Fine,” my father huffs. “We’ll drop you off if you’re certain you can find your classroom.”

  “I can. I know the school layout like the back of my hand,” I reply. “And can you drive a little faster, Dad?”

  “What’s the rush, honey? They won’t unlock the doors for ten more minutes,” my mom says.

  “I met a girl yesterday at the beach, and today’s her first day.”

  “She’s going to kindergarten?” my mom asks.

  “Ah, no!” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Evelyn is in fifth grade like me, but she’s new here. I wanted to get to school before her in case she needs someone to show her around.”

  “I’m sure one of her parents will be with her,” Dad says.

  “So what? Her mom or dad won’t know where they’re going either since they’re new too!”

  “You’re right,” Mom agrees, looking back at me with a smile. Her silver-blue eyes that I inherited drop to the bracelet I’m clutching and spinning around between my fingers. Since I didn’t have any white leather, I had to use black, but I picked out and cleaned the whitest of the tiny shells before I attached them like charms. Hopefully Evelyn will like it.

  “Is that bracelet for your new friend?” my mom asks.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s beautiful. I bet she’ll love it.”

  “Well, duh. She’s a girl, and girls like when people give them presents.”

  “Especially when they’re sweet gifts,” Mom informs me.

  Sweet? I don’t want to be sweet. That word just doesn’t sound very…masculine. And I’m a huge wimp as it is, nearly the tallest boy in the class but by far the scrawniest. I can’t beat anyone in an arm-wrestling contest no matter how many pushups I do.

  We have to sit in morning traffic forever once we get closer to the elementary school. My knee bounces the entire time nervously, worried I won’t see Evelyn before the bell rings.

  Finally, after it feels like we’ve waited eight years, my parents pull up to the sidewalk out in front of the school and my dad hits the button to unlock the doors.

  “Good luck, kiddo,” he says with a grin, reaching back to ruffle my hair.

  “I can’t believe this is our baby’s last year of elementary school,” my mom sniffles, pulling out her camera to snap photos of me climbing out of the car. I even see the flash several more times when I turn around to look for the sad, raven-haired girl from the beach.

  It turns out I was just in time.

  My parents have thankfully driven away when I see Evelyn walking through the parking lot with the woman who was with her at the beach yesterday that must be her mom. They both have the same ivory skin that stands out like a sore thumb since everyone who lives here stays nice and tan most of the year.

  I notice Evelyn’s cheeks look rosy red as she comes closer, probably from being in the sun yesterday. The color only makes her even prettier with her big, dark eyes and long, silky, black hair. She looks sort of like a porcelain doll. Her eyes are wide and terrified as she gazes up at the brick building she’s approaching and at all of the unfamiliar faces who stop to stare at her. Then, finally, her eyes land on me. Her lips curve into a huge smile before she runs over.

  “Cedric!” she exclaims and then throws her arms around me, clinging to me like I’m a life preserver she has to hold on to or she’ll drown. My parents hug me all the time, whether I like it or not, but no one has ever squeezed me so tight or so desperately.

  “Mama, this is Cedric,” Evelyn says to her mother when she releases her hold on me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cedric. I’m Rita.” Her mom looks at me with what I think is relief, like she’s glad her daughter knows someone in this strange place. “We better get you both inside before the bell rings.”

  “Which teacher do you have?” I ask Evelyn, a question I’ve been wondering since yesterday.

  “Ah, Mrs….” she trails off and looks to her mother for the answer while I hold my breath.

  Please say Lambert, please say Lambert…

  “Let’s see,” her mom says, pulling out a slip of paper from the purse under her arm. “You have Mrs. Carla Lambert.”

  “I’m in Mrs. Lambert’s class too!” I tell her excitedly. The odds were good that we would be in the same class since it’s a small school with only two fifth grade classrooms. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

  I grab Evelyn’s hand to pull her toward the front door where dozens of other kids are hurrying inside, some with their parents, and her mom follows us.

  As soon as we reach Mrs. Lambert’s classroom door, Evelyn lets go of my hand to give her mom a hug goodbye. Rita wishes us both luck and then waves as she leaves.

  “Here,” I say when we’re finally somewhat alone, handing over the bracelet I’ve been holding all morning.

  “Oh wow! It’s beautiful,” Evelyn gasps as she clutches it in her fingers. “Is it mine?”

  “Well, yeah. I told you I would make you one.”

  “Thank you,” she says with a smile as she slips it on her wrist and then spins it around, touching each of the tiny, white seashells.

  “I only had four good shells right now, but I promise I’ll find more for it.”

  “I love it,” Evelyn tells me while her face practically glows with delight. “You’re so sweet,” she adds before her arms are thrown around my neck again.

  There’s that word I hate again. She thinks I’m sweet, like my mom. But I don’t regret making Evelyn the bracelet since it made her look so happy, unlike yesterday at the beach when she seemed sad.

  And suddenly I realize that I would do pretty much anything under the sun to keep her from looking sad ever again.

  Chapter One

  Cedric

  Eight years later…

  Two years ago…

  Open your window. I’m on my way over.

  Evelyn’s text message around midnight the summer we graduated high school isn’t a question but a statement. She doesn’t have to ask because my door, or window in this case, is always open for her. Not that she’s used it lately.

  The bedroom window is already unlocked, but I go lift it all the way up to save her some time.

  Evelyn and I have been inseparable best friends for the past eight years. We must have scrounged up close to a million seashells, had treasure hunts on the beach, and rode our bikes together until we were fourteen or fifteen. That’s when our parents stopped letting us hang out without supervision, not that I was all that surprised. Suddenly, my flat-chested best friend had breasts that sprouted almost overnight. I couldn’t stop looking at them or thinking about touching them, which was so wrong. I felt awful the first time I jerked off and thought about Evelyn, the girl I had been friends with forever. I was embarrassed, afraid that as soon as she saw my face the next morning on the walk to school she would know, and it would ruin our friendship. Both of us have other friends, but there’s no one like Evelyn. She just…gets me. Always has. And I would spend every second of every day with her if I could.

  Since Evelyn is not psychic, of course she didn’t find out about my fantasies starring her. And before I could ever get up the nerve to tell her that I wanted to spend our weekends with our tongues deep in each other’s mouths rather than hanging out playing video games, Kyle fucking Chambers happened.

  He was a year older than us, an uppity sophomore. So our freshman year of high school when he asked Ev if she wanted to see a movie with him is when I realized I was about to lose my best friend. Kyle was Evelyn’s first kiss, not me. He was also the first boy to touch her boobs as Ev soon confided in me a few weeks later, which made me immediately start fantasizing about chopping off his fucking fingers one at a time with a rusty axe.

  When Evelyn told me Kyle had asked if he could put his hand down her panties, I tried to talk her out of it.

  “I dunno, Ev. Are you sure you want his o
range, Cheeto-stained fingers inside of you? How do you know it won’t hurt?” I had asked her.

  “Because I’ve already tried it myself, and it felt…good.”

  I can’t imagine what my best friend saw on my face after she admitted to me that she too masturbated. I was stunned, bewildered, suddenly thinking of her in bed or in the shower naked with her hand between her legs. My dick was so hard I thought it might be permanently bent to the left thanks to how badly it was swollen and contorted down the leg of my jeans.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Everyone does it; right? Don’t you?” she had asked me as her flawless, ivory cheeks turned a rosy pink color, my favorite color in the world. Not that I would ever admit that to anyone.

  “Ah, yeah. I guess, like, once or twice maybe,” I lied.

  Once or twice a day I would’ve clarified if I was being completely honest with her. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t. It was too late for me to tell her that I thought she was beautiful and that my hands should be the only ones other than hers to ever touch her body. She obviously didn’t feel the same way about me if I was the one she talked to about all the boys she dated. I remember the first time Evelyn encouraged me to ask out one of the girls we went to school with.

  Wait. There are other girls in the world?

  That had been my first thought, because the only girl I saw, the only one I dreamed about and wanted to make mine was Evelyn.

  While Ev and I remained best friends through the rest of high school, she eventually stopped telling me the details about what she did with the boys she dated, of which there were a lot. She was beautiful and sexy and irresistible with her long, raven hair and porcelain skin, like a living, breathing Disney princess.

  She did, unfortunately, tell me after she lost her virginity when we were juniors to Dallas Dickson, a macho dickhead who lettered in every sport, so I lied and told her that I had lost mine to some girl I met at the pier who was just here on vacation. I gave my fake sexual partner a fake name to make her seem more real – Jane. Even my fake lovers are apparently lame as fuck.