Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“I know, sweetie.” I bump into Phoebe's back as she takes Yana's trembling hand in hers. We first met Yana through the club four years ago when she desperately needed a place to crash on her way to the mother charter in Tāwaha. Her father, one of the original founding members of the Woodsmen MC, had been a legendary figure in the club's history. What was meant to be an overnight stay turned into a week-long slumber party, the three of us clicking instantly over tequila shots and late-night confessions.
We endured twelve solid months of her waxing poetic about Beast's muscles, his leadership, his presence—everything about him really—before he finally gave in and took her to his bed. The whole thing left a bitter taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with the bathroom's questionable hygiene.
I'm not a fan of how that situation played out. Never have been.
“Look, the upside?” I mutter, dropping to a crouch, staring straight into her watery mess of a face, trying not to gag at whatever the fuck is sticking to this bathroom floor. “Plenty of other dicks out there. Hot ones. Just begging for a grind.”
“Out,” a voice barks from behind us, and we both spin around to find Beast standing at the threshold, jaw clenched. As if he hates even being here. I don't know why the fuck Yana bothers. Sure, he's all hot and scary and all that. But he's too serious. You couldn't crack a joke with this dude if it fractured that perfect fucking jaw.
“Ah…” I say, stepping forward. “Hell the fuck no! We're not leaving you here with our friend while you...” My hand flies up and down his large body, but the door opens from behind us and Yana stops me.
“It's fine, Melissa. You guys go.”
“You sure?” I ask, brow raised. “You had a bit to drink. Maybe you're...”
“Melissa.” Phoebe's voice comes through from the side.
She searches my eyes. “It's fine. Come on.”
I can't even fight it as I look back at our friend and Phoebe tugs us toward the bar. Close enough to keep an eye out, but enough space to give them privacy.
“Are you insane?” I growl at Phoebe, who shoves a shot of something into my chest.
“No, but you might be,” she laughs, clinking our glasses together to take the shot.
I follow… because we don't waste.
“He's a fucking asshole.” I narrow my eyes at her as another shot is poured.
“That's the international president of Woodsmen MC.”
I stare at her, the room shifting. “I feel like you want me to be impressed? Horny?”
She slaps me with a laugh. “Scared! Idiot. I want you to be scared! These guys? They're not like the ones here. The ones you grew up with. The ones who allow you to throw your sass around!” I see where she's going but I still don't like it. “Yana knows that. You need to learn it.”
I also need another drink.
I shoot my shot. “Okay! Fine.”
Nettie, the new girl who has been hanging around but isn't a club girl or an old lady, pulls out a chair, and I slide a shot to her.
Nettie laughs, shaking her head. “No, thanks.”
“Oh, come on...” I tease, liquid courage making me bolder.
“I'm at a biker party. There's no way I'm getting shitfaced.”
I pull my offer back as if she'd slapped me. “Hey, Judge Judy.” I click my tongue. “These bikers are a lot of things, but trust me, you're safe from rapists here.”
“Don't be so quick to say that,” a low voice growls as a body brushes past.
My eyes narrow as he looks back over a massive shoulder, a dimple appearing in his smirk. He was beside Beast outside. His black and white baseball cap sits backwards on his head, a white shirt beneath his cut that has “Woodsmen” across the top and “Aotearoa” curved along the bottom.
He re-joins a table of his brothers, eyes finding mine as he lifts a whiskey bottle to his lips, a smile curving around the rim.
“Okay. I'm drunk,” I say to Phoebe, without breaking eye-contact.
She sighs. “Okay. Which one?” she asks, following my gaze before bursting into laughter. “Nope, definitely not, Melissa.”
“You don't even know who I was referring to!” I argue, the words slurring. Gross. I am drunk.
“I don't have to!” She counts off on her fingers. “It won't be Hannibal. You don't do beards. It won't be Ripper, since he looks too boyish for you, though I can assure you, there's nothing boyish about him. There's a reason he's called Ripper, and it has a lot to do with his namesake, organ removal and all. Frost isn't your type. You like men with at least a bit of.. humanity. And Nyx is too friendly; you'd friend-zone him faster than I could count to three.” She pauses dramatically. “So that leaves Hella.”