He came from a line of holy men. She carried the blood of chiefs. Their chemistry was undeniable, but was it reason enough to stay?
That was the million-dollar question.
Sadly, it was more than rhetorical. According to Aunt Grace, if the Gray Ghost had managed to get his hands on her, the ransom he’d have demanded would have matched that figure. Her parents had had wildly successful musical careers. With Aunt Grace’s guidance, they had invested well and prepared for The Fall, pulling out of the stock market, converting cash to precious metals, and buying farmland with pastures for grazing and arable acreage for crops. They’d built a comfortable, spacious home in the country using technology that let them live completely off the grid.
These days, it was the equivalent of Camp David, home of the President when he needed a break from the rat race of Austin politics. Texas Rangers provided protection wherever they were in residence.
Who would protect them here?
Her psychic godmother thought the Gray Ghost would try again, but she’d also promised that she’d be safe as long as she was with Book.
“I had already decided to ask if I could stay,” she confessed. “Even before you said that you wanted me to. Having more Rangers sent . . . trying to get back to Austin . . . it just felt wrong. Like . . . like a bad idea. Staying here where I want to be makes more sense. I was hoping that you’d feel the same.”
“I do,” he swore. “I do, Texas. I will do everything in my power to see that you don’t regret it.”
“And I’ll do the same,” she swore. “I want to be an asset, not a liability. I’ll do my best to be wise and stay safe. At least I know not to take any water unless it’s from Lot 29. The tap fee’s good for one year, right?”
“Minx,” he growled and smacked her bottom hard enough to make her yelp. “Yes, your tap fee is good for the year. That said, I’d better not catch you trying to draw water by yourself or you won’t be able to sit for a week. Do I make myself clear?”
What was it about this man that made her body respond the way it did? His Dom voice was enough to make her nipples hard and her pussy gush. The commanding look he gave her made her want to drop to her knees and worship his cock.
“Yes, Sir,” she promised, fully intending to keep her word.
“Good girl,” he hummed, making her melt with pleasure. She coveted his praise. She liked being the reason for his sapphire eyes to shine with pleasure and darken with desire.
She enjoyed being his.
Thankfully, she’d get to do it longer.
For weeks.
Months.
Years . . .
It was her turn to smile. “Thank you, Sir.”
He nodded approvingly. “Lost Creek MC protects what is ours. Every man here is pledged to keep you safe, but it’s up to me to see that you’re happy. The stuff in your van . . . what’s in there besides clothes?”
“I already brought in my toy box.” She pointed to a travel case sitting at the foot of the bed. “Besides clothes, it’s mostly jewelry making tools and supplies. When it came time to leave, I loaded my inventory in the van first, added what clothes would fit, and left the rest for someone else to scavenge. Cookware, dishes, furniture— I knew I wouldn’t need them at Whitehaven. There’s some cash hidden in different places. A road repair kit. A sleeping bag and pillow. A survival kit. Ammo. Crap. I need to reload my clip that Deacon emptied.”
Book chuckled. “Tomorrow’s soon enough. After breakfast, we’ll clear space in here for your clothes and bring them in from your cage. How much room does it take to make jewelry?”
“To make? A chair and a tabletop. But it’s all the rest that goes with it. Extra tools. Flats of beads. Bead boards. Boxes of leather, wire, thread, rings, closures. I have a wire shelving unit that will hold my tools and supplies once I get it assembled. It’s six feet tall, three feet wide, and fifteen inches deep. My displays and gift boxes— empty and filled— are in stacking totes that will take up another three feet to the side. So six feet of floor space against a wall plus a worktable, chair, and good light. Sorry. Mine are still in Seattle.”
Book hummed, thinking loudly. “Sounds like we need to find studio space before we unload the rest of it. It’s too crowded in here with Loki around. One turn and his tail will send beads flying and wreak havoc on whatever you’re trying to make. I’ll ask Deacon if there’s a secure room you can use somewhere in the lodge. It will be safer for you to work here than in town. If you want a local retail outlet, Lost Creek Ink could sell your pieces on consignment.”
She could see the sense of setting up shop at the lodge. Working in town would mean a daily commute and establishing a routine. Once the Gray Ghost learned her schedule . . .
No.
Adrienne shuddered and rubbed the goosebumps that erupted on her arms. If the Gray Ghost came for her, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She’d live and work in the Lost Creek lodge. Stay well inside the fence and keep her gun loaded and Loki close when Book wasn’t around.
If the Oklahoma outlaw tried anything, he’d learn what everyone knows.
You don’t mess with Texas.
“Once we get you squared away, I want a list of your hard and soft limits. If you’re staying, it will be as my submissive. Do you agree?”
“As long as you don’t want me to call you Daddy,” she said, her tone deceptively light for as serious as things were getting. “That’s not gonna happen unless I start poppin’ kids. My shot’s good for another month. We shouldn’t need to worry before then. I’ll need another round to keep it that way and every three months after that.”
Book put his splayed hand over her abdomen, covering her womb. “Let’s see how things go. I might not be hearing worth shit but damn if I can’t see you with a baby kicking in here and it sure as hell feels like mine.”
With any other man, she’d have vaulted off his lap, grabbed her things, and run as far and as fast as her legs could carry her. But she and Book had shared several lifetimes. They’d only just met this time around, but she already knew his soul. They’d been friends, mates, and lovers. They’d made history together.
According to Aunt Grace, they might be making it again.
Baby steps, she reminded herself, threading her fingers through his and sharing his vision. Any children to come would get here soon enough. For now, she needed to get to know the man he was in this lifetime. Learn what had shaped him. Understand his hopes and dreams and fears. Strengthen the bond that was building between them and protect it from anyone who might seek to tear them apart.
Learn to control that damn shield.
“We’ll see,” she whispered, unable to promise more when she could feel the target on her back.
The Gray Ghost was out there.
The Gray Ghost would come.
It was only a matter of time.
The Lost Creek MC Series continues in Deacon (Book 2).
For updates, check the Lost Creek MC page here http://bit.ly/LCMCSeriesWP.
Read Adrienne’s parents’ stories in
The Three Graces Duet 2:
Something Different, Something Awesome,
available at Amazon http://mybook.to/TGD2. Free with KU.
AUTHOR’S BIOGRAPHY
International Best-Selling Author Nia Farrell is four-times Golden Flogger Finalist and a founding member of the Wicked Pens. A multi-genre writer published in nonfiction, poetry, music, articles, and children’s books, she has one documentary screenplay under her literary belt and penned one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016. She started writing romance at her husband’s suggestion and has been published in erotic romance since 2015. She also writes as Erinn Ellender Quinn and Ree L. Diehl.
AUTHOR LINKS
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~ SERIES AND SAGAS ~
THE THREE GRACES SERIES by Nia Farrell
http://mybook.to/ThreeGracesSeries
LOST CREEK MC SERIES by Nia Farrell
http://bit.ly/LCMCSeriesWP.
AVENGING ANGELS MC SERIES by Nia Farrell (BDSM MC)
http://mybook.to/AAMC1-4
CRIME FAMILY VALUES SERIES by Nia Farrell
http://mybook.to/CFV1
MADE IN RUSSIA SERIES by Nia Farrell
http://mybook.to/SecretSantaMI6
REPLAY SERIES by Nia Farrell
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CLUB PARADISO SERIES by Nia Farrell
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THE SIX PACK SERIES by Nia Farrell
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FOREVER OURS SERIES by Nia Farrell
http://mybook.to/FO1
WICKED CHRISTMAS SERIES by Nia Farrell
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DARK MOONS SAGA by Nia Farrell
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~ SINGLE TITLES ~
Pride and Punishment – An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic. http://mybook.to/Punish
Wicked Lady. http://mybook.to/WLady
Rules of Engagement. http://mybook.to/ROE
Highland Desire by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn. http://mybook.to/HighlandDesire
~ ALSO BY NIA FARRELL ~
GUARDED HEARTS SERIES
by Claire Marta and Nia Farrell
http://bit.ly/GuardedHeartsSeries
TOUCH THE WIND SERIES
by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn
http://author.to/EEQuinn
UNBILLABLE HOURS SERIES
by Nia Farrell writing as Ree L. Diehl
http://mybook.to/UH1to3
Slaying Camille
Chelle C. Craze
To my family: You bring sunlight to the darkest of days. Thank you for always loving me and accepting me for who I am.
1
Lilly
“Stop it, Steve! I’m not in the mood to put up with your bullshit today!” I vehemently fumed and swatted my boyfriend’s semi-cupped hands off my ass. I used the term ‘boyfriend’ very loosely with him because I wasn’t sure from day to day if that title would remain. I didn’t even like him all that much, so I didn’t want to think what that said about my character. We started dating shortly after my car broke down in this BFE town and he gave me a place to stay. What was supposed to be a random hook-up quickly transformed into having a boyfriend who I lived with after he offered a warm place to sleep. Each time I had talked myself into leaving him, I was reminded I would be living out of my car again. Pretty much, it was a lose-lose situation, but I didn’t have anyone to blame for how my life was other than myself.
He pouted and stocked the cooler with piss-warm beer, doing what he did anytime one or both of us was unhappy with what was going on, completely ignoring it was happening.
“I mean, it shouldn’t be that big of a fucking deal, but whatever. It isn’t like a bunch of strangers are about to stuff dollars in your thong or anything.” He glared at me out of the corner of his eye, snagging a Brutus glass and pulling the lever down. The frothy amber liquid rose to the rim and he flicked the tap off. “Oh, wait. You are. So, what’s the big problem with me touching my girl’s ass?”
My blood boiled and I gritted my teeth. I need this job, I silently repeated to myself and dug my nails into my palm, wincing from the force.
“Steve, I’m an exotic dancer, a stripper, and yes, I’m about to have dollars stuffed into my thong as you’ve so eloquently put it. But just because I do all these things doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respect my wishes. If you are too fucking stupid to understand that, then I’m not your girl either,” I said and pushed him into the liquor showcase with my hip as I walked past him, and then rushed into the back to get ready for my set.
A lot of people looked down their noses at my co-workers and me the moment they discovered what we did for a living. All of those judgy assholes could go fuck themselves as far as I was concerned most days. However, somedays, the days I felt particularly shitty and hated myself more than usual, I hopped onboard with those assholes. Secretly, I hated what I did to make money, but I never really found anything I was good at other than drinking whiskey, riding a motorcycle, stealing shit, and dancing. My impressive list of qualities was taught to me by the world’s worst or best dad. The title depended on who the critic was. It was funny how the perspective of things could change in an instant, or how slowly they had without you noticing. Both described the relationship I used to have with Dad, or Ash, which is what the majority of people referred to him as.
When I was little, I eagerly listened to the criminal traits he taught me and intently followed his every step. I was a Delany, a fact that pretty much meant shit to nothing to a large number of strangers, but to anyone involved in the MC world or within a three-state radius, it meant a great fucking deal. I came from a long bloodline of criminals and outlaws, so honestly, even if I wanted to be someone different, I never really stood a chance. At least, that was the excuse I would cling to while I bared my skin to hungry eyes tonight. Tomorrow night was a different story entirely.
* * *
Chaos held out the shoulder straps of my white synthetic angel wings, popping her gum between her teeth. “Ca—” she let slip around her protruding ball of chewing gum. I hatefully glare at her as soon as she caught it and forced her tongue through the center, sucking it back into her mouth. She was the only person who knew my real name in this hellhole, and I planned to keep it like that. She found it out by accident and had been sworn to secrecy ever since. She blew out a frustrated breath, starting to edge the elastic strips up my arms. “Sorry,” she quietly whispered in her southern drawl, securing the harness that now rested in the curve of my spine.
“Thanks, Dawn.” I caught her hand and squeezed it before she had a chance to leave. She needed to know how important it was to me to have her. I hadn’t trusted anyone in a very long time, especially as quickly as I had her, but trust came seamlessly with her. Unlike me, she was a native to the area and most of our co-workers knew her real name. There wasn’t enough business in this area to alert anyone that I wasn’t who I said I was. I was much too far from home for anyone to know or really give two shits that I was lying about my name. When the majority of people left here, they were doing good to remember their own names and walk much less care if I told them a false name.
This club wasn’t like most along the strip— we dressed it up, trying to pretend we weren’t like the others. Occasionally, I let myself believe the lie that I wasn’t humiliated by the way I earned money, that this was only a temporary thing. This was never the truth. I had worked at Bermuda’s Triangle for a little over six months now, and none of the applications I dropped off in the past week seemed to hold the promise of a future job. I guess they weren’t too impressed with my most recent choice of employment. One woman actually scoffed at my application, crumpled it in her hand, and threw it in the wastebasket as soon as she read my job history. Like I said, hypocritical assholes. For all that bitch knew, I was putting myself through med school, which wasn’t true, but she sure as shit didn’t know that because she hadn’t asked.
As I donned my glistening halo, a wicked giggle escaped my ruby painted lips. The cheaply made wire ring was my perfect mask of deception. Chaos and I performed a number in which she was the devil and I the angel. I was anything apart from being innocent. Long ago, wickedness coated my body and sin seeped from my pores. All of this was the result of one man's selfish ways.
For a mo
ment, I closed my shimmering eyelids and allowed my head to lazily fall backward, pretending the warmth of the lights were from the sun as it crested in the sky. I drowned out the drunks slurring as they tried to climb on stage with me, because nothing they said could ever be desirable to hear. My palms were held upward and my arms fully extended when my favorite song loudened in the speakers and floated throughout the club. I fell to my knees, bringing my fingertips up to trace down my face. This move always drew them in. Allegedly, men are enticed by a woman caressing herself, no matter the body part.
When I was like this, bare before the world, I would lose myself to my pained thoughts. Each memory cascaded as if I were whirling in the rapids of the past. After ripping off my alabaster skirt and tossing it aside, I rose from the vile stage that always held the stench of the strong chemical used in a sad attempt to clean it, and cupped my heel securely in my palm. I brought my foot high above my head in a scorpion stance, balancing my weight on the foot that remained on the ground, and exposed what all these drunkards came to see.
Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology Page 22
