King's Descendants MC - BOXED SET

by Bella Jewel

  Hey . . .

  Not quite.

  Howdy . . .

  Good lord, what am I? A cowboy?

  ’Sup?

  Yeesh.

  Whatever. Let me just get right into it.

  I’m Waverly.

  There, that wasn’t so hard.

  I’m not going to blabber on about how strong and fierce I am.

  Or proceed to tell you how broken or damaged I’ve become.

  No, I’m just going to tell you that I’m me. Just me. Waverly.

  I am all of those things, but I’m also so much more.

  I’m helping a club—a club that needs me to bring peace back into its world.

  If you had asked me if I’d be working for a biker club six months ago, I would have simply laughed in your face.

  I mean, a biker club? Come on.

  Yet here I am, doing the unthinkable. Penetrating the deepest, darkest parts of that world.

  Pretending to be something I’m not.

  I’ve got this, though.

  That is one thing about me you should know—I won’t let them down.

  I won’t crack under the pressure.

  I won’t break, no matter how much horror I see.

  There are lives at stake; there are people who need me.

  Not a single thing will distract me from the mission I’m on.

  At least, that was what I first thought.

  Until I didn’t.

  Now I’m tangled up in a world I can’t even begin to understand.

  Now I’m dealing with feelings that are foreign to me.

  Feelings for a monster.

  Feelings for an angel.

  This is a literal battle between good and evil, and I'm living it.

  Who are these men, you ask?

  You’re just going to have to start from the beginning.

  1

  WAVERLY

  “Waverly!”

  I stare into the setting sun. The array of colors drift off into the horizon as slowly, night begins to fall.

  “Waverly!”

  Am I strong enough for this? I only let the thought flitter through my mind for a second

  “Waverly, for fuck’s sake!”

  I turn and face Alarick, who is staring at me with an angry expression on his face—an expression that tells me he’s not going to stop hollering my name until I listen, until I pay attention, but I’m finding that incredibly difficult right now. “What, Alarick? Can’t you see a girl was off in her own little world?”

  He crosses his arms across his big chest, and then mutters, “What happened last night?”

  Oh, the night I didn’t come home.

  The night I stayed with Dax and his little crew. The night I met two other girls. The night they slowly started to corrupt our minds. We were like perfect little puppets on their masculine biker strings. Well, they were; I certainly was not. I know exactly the kind of man Dax is. I also know that he’s so clever and so scarily kind to those women that they honestly believe their worlds are about to become a whole lot better.

  He takes them from their miserable lives, from their nonexistent families.

  He swoops in like prince charming, making them believe they’ve finally found peace. Finally found home.

  He introduces them to kind men, rich men—men who promise them homes full of love and money for the rest of their lives.

  He sells them.

  Then, oh, only then, do those women see the true horror—the true monsters hiding behind the masks.

  By then, it’s too late.

  They’re already in the hands of the beasts. They’re already owned.

  There is no escape.

  I shudder and focus my attentions back onto Alarick. He wants answers—of course he does. They all do. My sister, Zariah, has been badgering me all day for some. I haven’t given them to her because, well, I’m not sure she’s the right person to give them to. Alarick, on the other hand? He is the right person. He’s the running this whole operation. This whole attempt to take down Lucifer and all his demons.

  I’ve dubbed Dax that—Lucifer.

  The king of hell.

  Because that’s exactly who he is.

  It’s almost funny, really.

  He’s like a fallen angel, thrown into the pits of hell. That’s Dax. An angel, by all accounts, but the devil where it really matters.

  A trick.

  A lie.

  “Waverly, you’re zoning out again.”

  Shit.

  I shake my head and focus on Alarick.

  C’mon, Waverly. Fucking focus.

  “Sorry, boss.” I give him a wry smile. “My mind is about to burst.”

  “Well, burst it on me, yeah? We need to know what happened last night! Everyone was fuckin’ worried about you.”

  Of course they were. They thought he’d sold me.

  Not yet.

  No, we still have time.

  He’s still doing all his devilish priming first.

  “He took us on a trip to this incredible lake house. It was amazing, to be honest. We got to dance and sing and drink and eat. Those girls, the ones who are truly from a bad world, they thought they’d won the lottery. He introduced them to some men—some very rich, very attractive men. Everyone except me, which I found to be a little strange . . .”

  “He didn’t introduce you to a man?” Alarick murmurs, narrowing his eyes.

  “No, he didn’t. So I was left talking to him all night. Let me tell you, he knows how to turn on the charm. That man is . . .”

  “He’s dangerous.”

  “Yeah, he is. He’s also incredibly good at being so.”

  “You don’t think he’s onto us?”

  I shake my head. “No, not at all. He didn’t ask any questions that made me suspect he was suspicious. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say.”

  “Perhaps he’s got someone better for you, someone else lined up.”

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing. Which makes me wonder, is there an elite club? A group of men who get only the best of the best?”

  Alarick purses his lips, as if he’s thinking. “You could be onto something there. Aviana’s uncle—he’s most certainly top dog in this show, and he’s more than elite. There would be others like him, others who only buy the best of the best.”

  He’s right, and I’m starting to think I’m being saved for that.

  “I’m so glad you think I’m worthy.” I grin. “I knew you liked me.”

  Alarick grunts. “I wouldn’t send anyone in who wasn’t worthy.”

  “Aww, boss man.”

  He turns and walks away, leaving me sitting on the back porch of the clubhouse, swinging on an old, rickety glider, watching the sun go down.

  “What are you doin’ here?”

  Mykel walks up the back stairs, chopped wood in his hands, looking like a goddamned mountain man I’d like to jump all over. If only he wasn’t such a freaking douche bag. And he is—he really, really is. He doesn’t like me, and he makes it known. What I can’t figure out is why? Sure, he might not think I’m cut out for the job of going in undercover with Dax, but he doesn’t need to hate me. He doesn’t even know me.

  He glares at me. Such a dick.

  “Well, hello Mykel, nice to see you too,” I mutter, crossing my legs and shuffling farther back into the swing chair as a cool breeze tickles my face.

  “You left everyone scared last night. Knew you would cause problems but didn’t think you’d do it so soon.”

  “Wow, are you always this nice to people you literally know nothing about? Or is it just me? Am I the lucky one?”

  He scowls at me.

  I hate to admit it, but the man is gorgeous. Like, without a doubt, the best-looking human I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He isn’t the type I’d usually go for, but he has something about him that keeps me fixated. Dark red hair, almost brown, but not quite. It’s such a dark shake of red that you can almost only tell its true col
or when it hits the sun. Then he has these eyes, these emerald-green eyes that are so piercing, they make me shudder every single time he looks at me.

  He’d almost be angelically beautiful if it weren’t for the tattoos covering his body, right down to his fingers, and the rugged, scruffy beard he sometimes keeps on his perfectly flawless skin.

  He’s out-of-this-world gorgeous, but he’s also a dick, so there’s that.

  “Where were you last night?” he huffs, crossing his arms.

  I try very hard not to look at his bulging muscles, because, I mean, come on. The man is ripped. Like, ripped ripped. Not just a little, but a freakin’ lot.

  “I’ve already discussed this with your boss. Last time I checked, I don’t answer to you.”

  “I nearly lost my life to this fucker. You’ll tell me whatever I ask.”

  “When did this become a pity party?” I ask, a whole lot of shit stirring in my voice.

  His eyes flash, and he drops the wood onto the ground before walking over and placing his hands on the back of the chair, leaning in so close to me I can smell the pine scent of the timber he was just carrying. It makes my skin prickle, and I hope he can’t see that. I can always blame it on the cold.

  Up close like this, I can see his eyes have these incredible speckles of gold through them. Like little flakes of pure perfection. Damn, he’s attractive.

  Get it together, Waverly. Shit.

  “Listen to me, little girl. This is serious. This is my club. This is my family. If you do anything to fuck that up, I’ll make sure you suffer for it.”

  Wow.

  Brutal.

  “Firstly,” I say, holding his eyes, “you’re not a very nice person. I’ve done nothing to you, and you’re acting like a scorned child. Grow up. Secondly, I care about this club and everyone in it, which is why I’ve followed every instruction. And thirdly, if you so much as threaten me again, I’m going to kick you in the goddamned balls until you’re on the ground screaming like the little bitch you really are.”

  He draws back slightly, a small tell that my threat has stunned him. He should be; it was a good one.

  “Watch it,” he growls, before pushing off and walking towards the back door.

  “Lovely to speak to you too, Mykel.”

  When he’s gone, I lean back in the chair and exhale.

  One thing is for damned certain—that man doesn’t like me.

  And I intend to keep it that way.

  “EXCUSE ME?” I GASP, staring at Alarick in absolute horror.

  He stomps around his deck in obvious frustration. “I didn’t stutter, Waverly. You’re going to live with Mykel until this is over.”

  “This is a joke, right? You’ve got some sort of camera on me so you can record my reaction, and laugh and laugh at my expense?”

  Alarick’s expression doesn’t change.

  “Please, for the love of god, tell me you’re joking.”

  “He’s not joking.”

  I turn. Zariah walking into the room, followed by Briella and Kendric.

  Zariah walks right up to me, places her hands on my shoulders, and tells me, “This is the best option right now. My house is being watched, and if you’re seen, it’s going to blow everything out. We can sneak you in here; we can’t sneak you in there.”

  “There is a club full of bikers!” I protest. “I can stay with any one of them!”

  “Mykel has a place out of town, good security, and he lives alone. We looked at every option, believe me, but his place is without a doubt the safest, and you’ll be protected there.”

  I shake my head, putting my hands up. “You cannot, I repeat, cannot leave me alone with that man. There’ll be a murder—a gruesome, gruesome murder.”

  Alarick snorts. “You’ll be fine. He’s mostly here or working anyway. You’ll barely see him.”

  “No, Alarick. No.” I shake my head. “Nope. No way.”

  “It’s happening.”

  “Does Mykel know about this hideous plan?”

  Alarick glances at Briella, who gives me a sympathetic smile. “No, not yet.”

  “He’s never going to go for it,” I cry, throwing my hands on my hips. “You can’t honestly think he will.”

  “He’ll do what he’s asked to do.”

  “No.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, no he won’t.”

  “Yeah.” Alarick grins. “Yeah, he will.”

  “I know you’re not happy about it,” Zariah tells me, trying to smother her clearly evident grin. “But it’s for the best—it really is. Mykel has the safest house, and we need to protect you even more now.”

  “Why him?” I cry. Briella, surely you have a better plan?”

  Briella gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but I have to agree. I’ve seen Mykel’s place and it most certainly is the safest.”

  “Look,” I say, pointing my finger in his direction. “I get you’re all trying to keep me safe, but what if I stay at a hotel? You can keep watch and nobody will be any wiser. It won’t matter if they see me coming and going from there, right?”

  “The plan is settled, Waverly,” Alarick says, before turning and walking out of the room.

  I give Zariah a desperate look, and she just smiles back. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “It won’t be fine—you’ll see. If I don’t show up for a few days, don’t go looking at Dax’s house. Check Mykel’s because I’ll probably be shoved under a concrete slab somewhere. If he starts building a new shed, you ask questions, do you hear me?”

  Zariah laughs and steps forward, hugging me. “This is all going to be okay, I promise.”

  She’s wrong.

  It’s not.

  It’s really, really not.

  2

  WAVERLY

  The big house looms in front of Briella and me. She gives me a smile, and then assures me with a soothing voice, “I promise you, it’ll be fine. He’s not a bad guy. He’s really kind.”

  “You and I know a different man, sister,” I mutter. “That man is not kind. He hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just going through something.”

  “And I’m going to be shoved in his house while he’s going through it. I can’t bloody wait.”

  Briella giggles as we walk up the front steps to the patio. I try not to admire the place, but I have to admit it’s damned beautiful. It is huge, with well-manicured lawns that I know he doesn’t do himself because he’s always at the club. It is two stories high, with beautiful big verandahs and a warmth that I can feel even before walking inside. I can’t help but wonder how he got this place. Did he inherit it? Work for it? Maybe some of the nice drug money from the club got it for him.

  “Are you ready?” Briella asks, raising her hand to knock.

  The door swings open.

  I guess that’s my answer then, isn’t it?

  Mykel stands in the doorway, with a scowl on his face that makes me want to retreat and run back to the car. He’s not happy with this plan, and I can’t say I blame him. I’m not happy about it either.

  “There are rules,” he growls before either of us can speak. “You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

  I stare at him. “Is that it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “That’s a rule, then. No other rules,” I point out.

  “Second rule,” he mutters, his voice rough and pissed, “no smart mouthing me.”

  “Well, that won’t be a problem, considering we’re not going to get in each other’s way, so you can take that off the list.”

  “Rule three,” he snaps. “Don’t talk.”

  I snort. “Wow, you’re really stepping it up, aren’t you? Last time I checked it was a free country, so yeah . . .”

  He gives me a look that Briella clearly notices because she quickly jumps in between us and says, “Why don’t we look around, settle Waverly in, and stop going at each other’s throats? How does that sound?”

  “Fine b
y me.” I smile sweetly before Mykel moves out of the way and I step inside the house.

  It’s a gorgeous home, just as I suspected. It’s filled with beautiful pieces of furniture, warm colors and beautiful old paintings. It’s definitely not a biker’s house, but I think that’s the whole point. Alarick wanted me as far away from that world as possible, and he couldn’t have done a better job at choosing a home that contradicts the biker lifestyle.

  “You have a lovely home,” I say, and I mean it.

  “Thanks,” Mykel mutters.

  That’s the nicest conversation we’ve ever had.

  “So, where do I sleep?”

  Without a word, Mykel walks to a set of stairs, and we follow him up. We go past a few rooms until finally we reach a door that he pushes open. I step inside after him to see the beautiful space. I mean, wow. I knew this place would have gorgeous rooms but I wasn’t expecting it to look so damned homely and warm.

  A huge queen bed sits below a gorgeous big window, with a timber frame. The carpet is a warm brown and there is a bathroom off to the left. To the right there is a sitting area, with a plush sofa and a bookshelf full of books. In the right-hand corner there is a desk, with a gorgeous lamp placed neatly on it.

  I seriously cannot believe this house belongs to a biker.

  Maybe that’s not a nice judgement, but seriously.

  It’s luxury at its finest, and not at all what I would have expected from him.

  “This . . . this is my room?” I gasp.

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Briella smiles, looking around fondly. “When I was younger, and the guys would all hang out here, I used to love this area. To be fair it was the only one I was allowed in, but it was the best.”

  “My parents had the house then,” Mykel says, his voice so much kinder when he talks to Briella. “None of us were allowed to touch anything.”

  “That’s true.” Briella laughs. “I remember when I knocked your dad’s old lamp off the desk in the study and he lost it, but the second I started to cry, he felt so bad that he made me cupcakes and told me stories about when he was a kid living in this house. I really liked your dad.”

  Mykel smiles at her, and my heart does a strange little flip-flop. He adores her—I can see it so damned clearly now. In fact, I didn’t realize just how obvious it was until this very second. The way his eyes are warm when he looks at her, the way his whole face lights up and softens, the way his big body relaxes.