by Sophia Gray
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
DEVOUR ME: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Wicked Angels MC) copyright 2017 by Sophia Gray. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
***
Sign up to my mailing list by clicking here:
http://dl.bookfunnel.com/sqou66sq56
Also, follow me on Facebook for hot content and free giveaways!
https://www.facebook.com/Sophia-Gray-1096596530486125/
Contents
DEVOUR ME: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Wicked Angels MC)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
One More Ride: Carnage Warriors MC
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Also by Sophia Gray
One More Ride: Carnage Warriors MC
ONE MORE NIGHT: Jungle’s Thorns MC
ONE MORE TASTE: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance
SUBMISSION: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (The Marauders MC)
DADDY’S ANGEL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Crowns of Satan MC)
DADDY’S PRINCESS: The Horsemen MC
FILLED: Berserkers MC
BOUNTY: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Giustini Family Mafia)
Prize: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
MINE: Fury Riders MC
SINS: Devil’s Horns MC
OBEY: A Dark Romance
DENY: A Dark Romance
HEAT: A Dark Romance
Sign up to my mailing list by clicking here:
DEVOUR ME: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Wicked Angels MC)
By Sophia Gray
MY NEED FOR HER MIGHT EAT ME ALIVE.
I swore off relationships a long time ago.
I couldn’t bear the pain of losing another love.
But then Amanda wandered into my world, waking up the beast inside me.
And he is hungry.
She was an idiot for wandering outside in snow like this.
If I hadn’t come along, she’d be a brunette popsicle by now.
Instead, she’s curled up in front of my fireplace.
But the danger in my cabin might be worse than the blizzard outside.
I’m not a man to be trusted.
I’ve got skeletons in my closet…
Feelings, desires, needs that I’ve buried deep inside myself.
And she’s bringing all that roaring to the surface.
One look at that petite body and I’m rock hard again.
It’s like the past disappears when she’s around.
And all that matters is having her.
The world outside my window may be frozen and foreboding.
But in here, the heat of my desire will keep us both hot and sweaty.
It’s only a matter of time until I devour her.
Chapter 1
Amanda
“Damn it!” It’s snowing so hard I can barely see beyond the windshield. The wipers are practically useless at this point. Where the hell did this snow come from? It was bright and sunny when I woke up this morning, and just a little cloudy when I left to make the trek to my parents’. I hadn’t heard a thing about snow. I might not have grown up here but I know a “snow sky” when I see one. There wasn’t an inkling.
Now this. I’ve been struggling to move so much as an inch up the road for the past hour, and I know I’m not that far from town. It started snowing minutes after I left and before I knew it, I was slipping and sliding. The snow was piling up fast, the winds whipping it around and nearly knocking me off the road more than once.
I have to turn around. This is hopeless. I thought I might be able to drive through the storm and get to the other side, but no such luck. Holidays or no holidays, it’s just not happening today. I’ll have to try again tomorrow.
But I can’t see. I can’t freaking see anything. I’d happily turn around if I could so much as see the road. Another car hasn’t passed me for miles. They must have all caught the weather report I missed. I slow down, hoping to make a U-turn, but all I do is slide. I don’t have the traction.
What the hell am I supposed to do? “Fuck!” I scream, pounding on the wheel. This is just my luck. Why are things like this always happening to me? I’m not a bad person.
I have to pull over. That’s all there is to it. I’m not making any progress. I also realize, to my horror, that the car’s running out of gas. Fast. Shit! There had been half a tank when I left the house. I had been figuring on stopping once I was on the road, of course. Now there’s less than a quarter tank. And I have no idea where I am or where the next station might be.
I slow down, hoping to slide far enough off the road so as to avoid passing cars and plow trucks. I can just imagine being plowed in on top of this.
Damn, damn, damn! Now what? I’m completely unprepared for this. I know I’m supposed to have a winter survival kit in my car. I always hear about it on the news. Blankets, water, flashlight, batteries, a radio, flares. I’m not even wearing snow boots or a decent pair of gloves.
Amanda, you’re an idiot.
I might as well curl up in the back seat and try to wait this out. There’s enough gas to get me to the next station once the storm passes over—I hope. But I don’t think I can make it while there’s a blizzard going on outside. But the snow can’t last forever, right?
I check my phone, realizing my parents will be flipping out before long. I’m only two hours away from them, so if they don’t hear from me soon, they’re going to lose their minds. Of course, in keeping with the rest of the day, my phone has no signal.
Could this get any worse? Now I’m getti
ng colder by the minute and worried about my parents. They’re going to be so upset when they don’t hear from me.
But then, what about me? What happens if I’m snowed under? What happens if I can’t open the car doors by the time it stops? What if I freeze to death in this damned car?
Okay, Amanda. Deep breaths. I run my hands through my long, dark hair, smoothing it down to calm myself a bit. No need to lose my cool. This will be okay. Things like this happen all the time, I’m sure. It’s not like I’m naked. I’m wearing perfectly warm clothes and while my boots aren’t made for snow, they’re warm enough. My coat’s warm, too. I’ll be okay.
I lean back against the seat, thinking maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a nap while I wait out the worst of the weather. At least then I won’t feel so cold anymore. I check the time. It’s a little after eleven in the morning. I set the alarm on the phone for one hour. That won’t be too long. I won’t freeze up. And hopefully, by then, the storm will have passed and I’ll be on my way.
I close my eyes…only to have them fly open when I hear a heavy pounding on the windshield.
What the hell is this? I sit up, groggy. How can I be groggy when I just fell asleep? Wait—it’s darker outside. And much snowier. What’s happening?
I pick up my phone…which is now dead. Oh my fucking God, the battery died. How long have I been asleep, anyway?
“Hey!” I call out to whoever it is outside the car. “Help!” I realize in the back of my mind that this person, whoever they are, could be a murderer. On the other hand, I might have slept my way into oblivion if it weren’t for them. The inside of the car is beyond freezing, and my teeth are chattering. If only I didn’t feel so groggy.
I see sheets of snow falling from the exterior of the car and realize I am nearly snowed in. Holy shit. This person is my new superhero, whoever they are.
I see a dark figure looming outside the car, beside the driver’s side door. I lean forward to unlock it and watch as it opens. An absolutely immense figure in a black hooded parka slides behind the wheel. I can’t see their face; a heavy scarf covers most of it.
“How long have you been here?” The voice is deep, resonant. Of course it’s a man; otherwise I’d be dealing with the biggest woman I’d ever known.
“Since around eleven this morning. What time is it now?”
“Way after eleven,” he replies, his voice grim. “I don’t want to alarm you, but you wouldn’t have lasted much longer out here. It’s a miracle I even saw you from my window.”
“Your window? Do you live around here?”
“Not far. Less than a quarter mile off the road. The wind died down for a little while and your car stood out against the snow.”
Thank God I went with red, I think.
“You’re nearly out of gas.”
“Yes, I know. I was going to stop to refuel along the way. I didn’t count on fighting my way down the road in this mess for hours.”
“Do you even watch the news? They’ve been talking about this storm for days.”
“They have?” I’ve been so busy at work, I completely missed the alerts. But I still don’t like the snotty tone in his voice. Whether or not he’d saved my life, he didn’t need to talk to me like I was some sort of idiot. I was doing a good enough job of talking to myself that way as it was.
“Listen. If you stay out here, you’ll freeze to death. Do you even have a blanket?” I shake my head, feeling lame. He sighs, the exasperated sound of a put-upon parent with a willful child. “I’ll take you back to my house. It’s not far; you’ll be able to walk it. I can’t, in good conscience, leave you out here.”
To his house? I don’t know who this guy is. He could be a serial killer or something. Maybe this is his thing, waiting for storms to roll through so he can lure young girls to his house for God only knows what.
He sees me hesitating and naturally knows why. “We can’t spend too much time before you decide whether or not I’m a serial killer. It’s fucking cold as a witch’s tit in here, and getting worse. You’re not dressed for this. Either come with me or freeze to death. Keep in mind the roads are impassable, and the car was nearly buried when I found you.”
I know I don’t have a choice. It really is a matter of following him to his house of potential horrors or dying out here. I tell myself that there’s at least a chance he’s not a murderer. I have no chance out here.
“Okay,” I reply, throwing my useless phone into my purse. “Lead the way.”
I only hope I don’t live to regret this.
Chapter 2
I’d been working at the coffee shop for less than a year when I first heard about The Wicked Angels.
It was a Sunday morning and the place was jumping, just as it always was after church let out. Carly and I were like a well-oiled machine, though, working together seamlessly to keep the line moving. I knew I’d hit the jackpot when I hired her. She needed next to no supervision, totally able to read a situation and go with it. When a shot of espresso was finished brewing, she’d start the next without asking. When a tray of muffins was running low, she’d go to the back to get a new one. She wiped down the tables as soon as customers left so new ones could sit down, kept the milk and creamers full, everything. I knew I could count on her.
This left me free to take orders and chat up the customers. “Mrs. Barker! That’s a large no-foam skim latte and a blueberry muffin, right?” I’d ring up the sale, getting things in order while asking whether her daughter had decided on a college yet. Mr. Louis was a small black coffee and a cheese danish. His wife had just gotten one of her knees replaced, so I asked after her and told him to give her my best. The Fosters always brought in their three-year-old, and I gave him a special little treat while I fixed their coffee.
This was what I’d always seen myself doing: running a little place the townspeople could visit and feel as though they belonged somehow. Like I cared about them—because I did. When they walked in and heard their order being called out even before they spoke, they felt valued. That’s the sort of treatment that keeps customers coming back for more.
“How do you manage to keep it all straight?” Mrs. Foley asked, handing me a ten-dollar bill. “I’d go crazy trying to remember everything and everybody.”
“You keep track of all those soap operas you watch,” Mr. Foley pointed out with a chuckle. “All the characters and the storylines.” I laughed along with him.
“That’s different. I’ve been watching them for years—she’s only been here six months!” They both looked at me, the picture of a cute little old couple if ever there was one.
I shrugged. “I have a good memory, I guess. It comes naturally. Plus, I like you. It helps.” I winked at Mr. Foley, and he chuckled again.
“If I were thirty years younger…” he hinted.
Mrs. Foley gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. “Try fifty years,” she corrected. “Besides, a pretty young thing like Amanda wouldn’t have the time for you.”
Mr. Foley rubbed his shoulder in mock pain. “See how she abuses me?” They both laughed, and I joined them half-heartedly.
“If you were young and single, Mr. Foley, I’d give you my number for sure.” I handed them their pastries, thinking they would drop the subject now that they’d been served.
“A pretty girl like you should be married, or at least going with somebody,” Mrs. Foley insisted.
I bit the side of my tongue to hide my distaste. One thing about living and working in a small town where you knew everybody: everybody knew you right back. At least they thought they did.
“You’re such a sweet girl, too. Don’t worry,” she patted my hand reassuringly, “the right fella is out there for you.”
“Amanda, another gallon of whole milk!” Carly was working the espresso machine, steaming milk for lattes. I smiled at the Foleys and turned to help her.
“Thanks,” I whispered. “That was getting awkward.”
“Mrs. Foley’s always trying to fix peopl
e up,” Carly explained. “She’s a sweetheart.”
I didn’t disagree. I just wished she’d let my business be my business. There wasn’t much about me I didn’t share with others, except my love life. That was off-limits.
Awkward conversations aside, I loved the work. I felt energized, accomplished, all because my customers were pleased. Once the rush died down, I went from table to table, saying hi to those I hadn’t gotten the chance to chat with, while Carly manned the register and coffee machines. All the while I reminded myself I was making my mark on the town, which was a fantastic feeling.
It was a great little shop, too. I’d only bought it a little over six months before, when the previous owner had to pull up stakes and move across the country to care for a sick parent. Everything was in working order. All I had to do was step in and take over. The best part was, since the move was taking place in such a hurry and he didn’t want to leave the shop abandoned, I managed to get it for next to nothing.
I wiped down the tables that had just emptied, feeling proud of what we were building here. Sure, the customer base was already healthy when I took over, but now there was a feeling of family. I heard it time and again, how happy the customers were when they came in and I knew who they were. That’s what I wanted to set me apart—well, that and my baking.
