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Read on to view a short excerpt from THE DARKEST FLAME, Smoke and Vaughn’s book.
Other Titles by Christina Lee
Male/Male Romance
There You Stand
The Darkest Flame
Between Breaths Series (New Adult Romance)
All of You
Before You Break
Whisper to Me
Promise Me This
There You Stand (m/m)
Adult Contemporary Romance
Two of Hearts
Three Sacred Words, coming soon
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ONCE UPON A TIME, I lived in New York City and was a wardrobe stylist. I spent my days getting in cabs, shopping for photo shoots, eating amazing food, and drinking coffee at my favorite hangouts.
Now I live in the Midwest with my husband and son—my two favorite guys. I've been a clinical social worker and a special education teacher. But it wasn't until I wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper that I realized I could turn the fairytales inside my head into the reality of writing fiction.
I'm addicted to lip balm and salted caramel everything. I believe in true love and kissing, so writing romance novels has become a dream job.
I write Adult, New Adult, and M/M Contemporary Romance. I also own a hand-stamped jewelry business, which requires me to stamp letters and/or words onto pieces of silver. They go hand-in-hand perfectly.
Visit my WEBSITE.
Or my FACEBOOK author page.
My private Facebook reader/fan group: THE SWOON ROOM.
A private Facebook group for readers of both queer and straight romance: ANYTHING GOES.
Find me on TWITTER.
Sign up for my NEWSLETTER.
If you're a Blogger/Reviewer, this is a special BLOGGER NEWSLETTER for you.
Acknowledgments
To Stina, Nyrae, Keyanna, Edie, Melinda, Lori, and Kanaxa—for helping make this book shine.
A shout out to these gals in the book community: Michelle, Eleanor, Livia, Laurie, Natasha, Jenn, Gina, Jennifer, Suzi, Crystal, and Tamie, for always being generous and supportive and amazing. I just know I left somebody off…I’ll have to make up for it next time.
Lisa, Heather, and Sarina: Thanks for being cool and helpful while I navigated my way around some things in this crazy publishing world.
To Greg and Evan, for not complaining when I have to disappear to work at odd hours of any random day. I don’t want to be in any other place in the world except right next to you, every single night.
To my family and friends for your constant, unwavering support. I love you.
To the amazing book bloggers and reviewers out there—there are too many of you to list here. Please just know I appreciate all the work you do—all on your own dime—for the simple love of books. Because when it comes down to it, all of us are readers first and foremost.
Last, to the readers: THANK YOU for taking a chance on my books and reaching out to talk to me about them. For an author, there may be no better feeling.
Excerpt from THE DARKEST FLAME
Vaughn
“Bottoms up.” I poured tequila in the three shot glasses in front of me. “Extra limes if you need ’em.”
The president of the Disciples of the Road, his second in command, Jonas, and Fish, from the Scorpions Motorcycle Club, were toasting to whatever the hell they’d agreed upon in that back room.
I might’ve only been an honorary Disciples member because I managed their bar, the Hog’s Den, but I was party to more insider information than most. We had mutual trust, and I’d put my life on the line for them if it ever came to that.
Malachi, otherwise known as Mal or Prez, had been trying to clean up the club for years while still having his hand in the most lucrative trade—auto parts. A difficult feat for sure. If he screwed the wrong people, they’d want payback. That was the way things worked in their world.
“Vaughn,” Mal said after he slung back the bitter liquid and winced at the burn. “One more hit.”
“Better watch your liquor, old man,” I said, and Mal laughed at my ribbing. He looked lighter tonight than he had in weeks. He was always stressed about club business and protecting his men.
I grabbed the bottle on the lower shelf again. “Coming right up.”
One late night a couple years back, Mal had confessed his history over a beer. How his former old lady had been strung out on meth and how he needed to do something about it or he’d lose more of the people he loved.
Mal had never seen eye to eye with his father, who had gotten the club involved in the arms and drug trade two decades ago. His father had been not only a ruthless president but also an addict, and in the end he’d paid with his own life. Since then, Mal had strategically pulled out of all illegal drug activity and was now attempting to tidy up some other things as well.
“Jude, order’s up,” I called across the bar. A brown takeout bag sat on the counter, and the familiar scent of Hog’s Den wings wafted up my nose.
Warmth reflected in Mal’s eyes before he looked back and smirked. Jude was racking up the balls for another game of pool with his boyfriend, Cory. Those two had definitely softened the prez this past year. He still felt responsible for them, as did the other guys, even though they were no longer under his charge.
When Jude waved and whispered close to Cory’s ear, something burned hot in my chest. Their quiet affection seeped inside my bones as I imagined being as out as they were.
Screw that. I’d lose the respect of the club if I confessed how much I enjoyed the company of both men and women.
As a general rule, MCs were old school—barely allowing women into their fold, let alone queers. Though if there were any hope, this club would be the one to break ranks. Mal was a decent man with a good heart beneath the tough exterior. But he had enough on his plate as it was. So I’d keep my preferences discreet.
As if to muddy my illusions further, Smoke swung through the door, the guy of my goddamn fantasies. Fuck, he was a sight to behold with those hard guns, tight jeans, and his leather cut with the word recruit stitched above his heart.
I’d wanted to bang him the minute he stepped foot in my bar with his messy blond hair that curled over his ears, his beautiful pout, and strong fingers that I figured would feel amazing wrapped around my cock.
Add in the incident at the compound a few months back and I was a goner.
I’d attended a party and stayed overnight, too tired and drunk to drive home. In the morning, I’d jumped in the shower for a quick pick-me-up before hitting the road, and walked out to a stunned Smoke, who had stepped inside the bathroom to take a piss.
His gaze had deliberately scanned the front of me, and fuck if my cock didn’t fill instantly, slapping against my abdomen. “Sorry,” he mumbled, backing out of the room. I’d never spent the night out there again.
Smoke high-fived Cory and Jude at the pool table. He’d grown close to the couple after he became Jude’s watchdog for months on end due to a situation involving some Latino gunrunners. Then he headed over to his leaders sitting at the corner of the bar.
I raised the bottle of tequila in a silent question. Smoke lifted his hand to swear me off, so I replaced the bottle on the shelf. He didn’t drink much, actually not at all that I noticed, which made him more of a mystery.
I was curious about his story. It might’ve helped lessen the intrigue surrounding him. But I was too much of a chicken-shit to get that close, especially after he’d seen how my cock had responded to him while his club brothers were awake in the next room.
He’d been through some fucked up shit, I’d heard. I still didn’t know the details, and probably never would. None of my business. But Mal seemed to take him under his wing, so I always suspected it had to do with drugs.
What I did know was how Smoke looked at me sometim
es, like he wanted to lick me from head to toe. Even the way his fiery gaze had drifted straight over to me now. Hell. I forced my brain to think of something else—like a nest of hornets stinging my dick in order to keep the hardness from swelling my pants right in front of the damn club president.
I had never tried coming on to him, and he returned the favor. But if looks could kill, we’d have incinerated each other across the room thousands of times over. That’s how I knew he wanted me but was toeing the line, same as me.
“What’s up, Prez?” Smoke pulled up a stool. Jonas, who was constantly pushing those reddish-brown strands behind his ears, made room for one more at the bar.
How’s the new recruit working out?” Mal asked. “Still out on patrol?”
“Yeah, I left him with Felix,” Smoke said, retrieving a pack of gum from his back pocket. It was a habit I’d come to associate him with. Which explained his spicy cinnamon scent.
Mal spun his empty shot glass in his fingers. “Any problems tonight?”
“Nah, been quiet.” I felt Smoke’s gaze on me as I reached for the empty keg beneath the tap.
“Got a new assignment for you,” Mal said, tilting his head to the Scorpions member sitting beside him. “Think you’re ready to play with the big boys?”
Smoke’s eyebrow quirked up. “You mean I haven’t been already?”
He didn’t give away smiles very easily, so when the corner of his lip tilted like that, it definitely left my tongue wagging.
Mal and Fish exchanged smirks and knowing glances.
“Of course I’m ready,” Smoke said with certainty in his voice.
That was the thing about Smoke. He had a quiet confidence about him. Like smooth velvet over solid muscles. And hell, if that wasn’t attractive about the guy, I didn’t know what was.
“You‘d have a vested interest in this one,” Mal said, and a tempered look passed between them that told me it had to do with Smoke’s past. He’d come to the Disciples from the Devil’s Asylum, one of the most ruthless motorcycle clubs in the Midwest.
I didn’t want to seem overly interested, so I left the relatively empty bar to deposit the keg in the storage room before heading back their way to grab a fresh towel and wipe my hands. The after work crowd would be filing in soon, so I made sure the pretzel bowls were full as well.
“Fish has been having some trouble, so he needs your help, if you know what I mean,” I heard Mal say. In club speak that meant that Mal needed Smoke to use his former contacts to help the Scorpions out.
“Got it, Prez.”
I kept my head averted to attend to my task of mopping up a large wet spot on the bar. But for some reason, a shiver stole across my shoulders. I didn’t know why. I had seen and heard plenty of shit way more dangerous than this.
The door jangled open, and two biker babes walked in wearing outfits that left little to the imagination. Believe it or not, I preferred my women more conservative. If they didn’t don a short skirt or spiked heels, they garnered my attention every single time.
Several guys in the club were all about getting some action, but to me, these two looked like used up Barbie dolls. And the guys who regularly slept with them? The ultimate man whores. I pretended Smoke wasn’t in that same category, even though I’d seen him flirt with his share of ladies.
It made me damn curious how else he spent his time.
The two regulars, one blonde and one brunette, sidled up to the bar, where the brunette ordered a margarita on the rocks, no salt. “Hey, Vaughn,” the brunette said in a flirty voice.
“Hey yourself,” I said, reaching for the triple sec. I ignored how she leaned over, showing off her cleavage. When I turned back, she was still propped over the bar, and I allowed my eyes to linger even though it didn’t do much for me.
“What can I get you, darling?” My gaze slid over her shoulder to her blonde friend and instead met stunning green eyes. Smoke could disarm me with one lustful glance. Sure, the guys might’ve thought he was salivating over these women, but I knew better. He’d been teasing me mercilessly for months with those meaningful looks that told me he wanted to screw my brains out. And the fucker knew exactly what he was doing to me as his gaze shot down to my fast filling boner.
“A hard cider,” the blonde girl said as her friend stayed in the same position with her tits hanging out. I grabbed the bottle of cider and slid it past the brunette, whose gaze was focused on the television above my head.
The blonde grabbed the bottle and turned to Smoke as my jaw tensed. It wasn’t like I hadn’t witnessed this scenario before. Smoke played the part and enjoyed it as much as I did. As was evidenced now when he slid his arm around her shoulder. Though his eyes were still pinned to mine.
“Want to go somewhere private?” I heard her rasp. His ruddy lips, almost in the shape of a heart, moved to her ear to whisper something more than likely dirty, his gaze never retreating from mine. So as not to call suspicion to myself, I reached for a dirty glass to tuck beneath the bar.
But hell, just waiting for his response made my dick tent my pants. I needed to keep my eyes averted or I was likely to come right then and there. And now my imagination would run hog wild tonight beneath my sheets. I probably needed a hookup with somebody just to get him out of my head.
“Might happen,” Smoke said in that level and self-assured voice. And then his fingers grazed his zipper. “Getting nice and hard thinking about it.”
Hot holy damn, I almost combusted right then and there. I felt my neck and cheeks fire right up like a torch. Why in the hell he teased me so ruthlessly, I didn’t know.
Right then Mal stepped toward the middle of the bar. “I need to wrap up some business on this end, ladies.”
“Sure thing, Mal,” the brunette said and headed toward the unoccupied pool table, Jude and Cory long gone.
I moved down the bar to check on my other customers, because I couldn’t even look Smoke in the eye without wanting to jump over the bar and tackle him onto the floor. Also because, even though Mal didn’t hide most conversations from me, I wasn’t going to act like I could listen to club business freely.
Besides, it was hard for me to stay sedentary in my own bar. There was always something that needed to be done, and I liked keeping my hands moving.
“Vaughn,” Mal said, halting me in my tracks. “What happened to your part-timer?”
“Joe?” I asked, keeping my gaze focused on Mal. “Doing time on an assault charge from some neighbor dispute. Supposed to get a reduced sentence but still not sure when he’ll be out.”
“Sounds like you’re shorthanded.”
“I’ll manage.” Joe helped tend bar three nights a week. It was hard to find somebody trustworthy who would be willing to keep his or her trap shut. Joe had enough of his own troubles to be really concerned with club business. He rarely interacted with anybody, but I could count on him to get the job done.
Mal thumped Smoke on the back. “Why don’t you give our friend here a hand for a while?”
My eyebrows rose and my lips felt cemented together. I could hear the thump, thump, thump of my heart.
“You used to tend bar at your family’s business, right?”
“Uh, sure,” Smoke struggled to get out. “But I…”
“You could split time between here and the auto shop,” Mal said, his forearms flexing on the bar top. “I’ll move you off regular patrols since I need you for that other club business.”
Still I stood there and gaped at Mal.
“You cool with that?” Mal asked, waiting for me to say something. Anything. “Smoke’s a hard worker. Loyal. Trustworthy.”
Finally I got my body unstuck. Along with my mouth.
“Don’t have to convince me.” I shrugged. “You say he’s good for it, then he is. Would help me out until Joe is released.”
Smoke’s head was angled toward the back of the room, looking at the ladies racking up the balls at the pool table. As if he couldn’t possibly maintain eye contact wi
th me, either.
“Why don’t you…uh,” I said, trying to form some semblance of a sentence. “Stop by tomorrow afternoon so I can bring you on board.”
He turned at the sound of my voice and stared hard at me. “Yeah, sure.”
Mal nodded as if dismissing the conversation, so I moved down the bar, trying not to stumble over my own two wobbly boots. For months on end, I saw Smoke only in passing in my bar, and now I’d be stuck working with him. Fuck.
After a few minutes of shooting the breeze with the regulars at the other end, I moved back down the bar to reach for the remote and change the channel to a different game.
“I need you to be my go-to guy on this operation. You cool with that?” I heard Mal ask Smoke.
“Yeah, Prez,” he said. “What’s it about?”
Mal turned to Fish and tipped his chin, silently giving him the go-ahead to explain the details.
“We need you to share some intel on the Asylum,” Fish said. “Word is they’re casing the Russians goods, and we’re trying to make it right.”
“No problem,” Smoke said, though from studying his features dozens of times across the room, I could see a split second of trepidation in his gaze.
And that surprised me because Smoke—hell, all of these guys—seemed to have nerves of steel. The most I’d ever had to deal with was some punks showing up and kicking them out on their asses.
Or that one time a rival club tried to bring their bad blood into my bar. Guy aimed a knife in my direction, but Mal quickly diffused the situation.
I’d admit I’d grown to admire and probably even care about these guys, so I worried about them. All of them—not only Mal and Smoke.
But fuck. Best never to let that show.
The Deepest Blue (Roadmap to Your Heart #2) Page 21
