Home > Avery (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries #3)

Avery (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries #3)
Author: Addison Jane

AVERY

 

The loud bass rattled the walls, the music blasting from the speakers inside only dwarfed by the eighty or so people who were trying to talk over it.

The Brothers by Blood MC knew how to throw a party, though I was still unsure of exactly what they were celebrating. My friend Holly’s ‘don’t ask questions’ lecture on the way there had been all the explanation I needed apparently. Her friends, Dakota and Meyah, from school, had welcomed me with open arms. And their men, while both reasonably quiet, had made it quite clear to the rest of the club and their visitors that I was there as a guest and not a piece of ass—despite my protests that maybe that was exactly what I was looking for.

I took another sip of my drink, my nose crinkling as the liquid hit my tongue, the harsh bite of alcohol not quite as tasty when it was warm. Guess that was a testament to how long I’d been sitting out there, staring at the stars, trying to ignore the constant buzzing of my cell by digging my fingernails into the palm of my hand. That small action stopped me from pulling the offending device from my pocket and reading what I knew would be flooding in, not just from my friends but also from her friends and people I didn’t even fucking know.

Birthday messages.

Though this year, they were quite different.

The excitement now poisoned.

Happy birthday! Hope you’re okay.

Happy birthday! I’m here if you need me.

Happy birthday! I bet Micah is prou—

“You’re not meant to be back here.”

The harsh order was like a sharp prod in my ass, my entire body leaping off the ground, my glass and what was left inside flying from my grasp. It shattered on impact, the collision with the concrete sending tiny shards of glass scattering around my feet. “Shit,” I cursed, unable to stifle the sharp, bitter laugh that escaped with it. Tilting my head back, I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, ignoring the couple of rebellious tears that escaped.

“You lost?”

“Feels like that sometimes,” I murmured to myself with a heavy sigh.

The sharp voice from the darkness let out a deep, gravelly chuckle, immediately drawing my eyes to the shadows of the building. My heart rate increased, my mouth going dry as he stepped from the darkness into the small patch of light the single bulb outside the kitchen door created.

How the hell I managed to keep my jaw from hitting the floor alongside my drink, I didn’t fucking know.

The guys in this MC, they bred them different.

Like gods.

“I meant right now,” he clarified in amusement, leaning his shoulder against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. Like magnets, my eyes snapped to his biceps and the way they stretched against the crisp white shirt he had under his club colors, the ink that decorated the length of his left arm drawing me in like some kind of world-famous painting. It was a welcome temptation, my hands itching to reach out and examine every twist and turn of the beautiful piece of art, forgetting incredibly quickly about how badly they wanted to scratch at my skin.

“You drunk or just emotional?” The sides of his head were shaved, a strip of long black hair running down the center, the loose, wispy strands falling across his eyes.

I narrowed my eyes, meeting his menacing gaze. “I’m not looking to share my problems.”

“And I’m not looking to hear them,” he quipped, shoving off the wall and tapping at the patch on his chest as he took a step toward me. “But this just so happens to be my clubhouse, and I like to know what the fuck is going on inside it.”

Squinting a little, I struggled to read the tiny letters in the dull light.

PRESIDENT.

Of course.

He was the club president.

Jesus.

I shouldn’t be surprised.

The tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth was daring me to challenge him just so he had the chance to put me in my place.

And boy, did I want him to put me in my place.

The man demanded respect. It was in the way he carried himself, his shoulders square, his chin up, and with a mischievous sparkle in his eye that made me feel like maybe I should run. The only problem? Self-preservation wasn’t exactly my thing. So instead, I took a step forward. Maybe it was because I was feeling so weak, so out of control. Perhaps I was searching for just a taste of that energy and power that radiated off him in waves.

Then maybe I could drown in something other than my own thoughts.

“I can go back in,” I offered with a shrug, taking another step toward him.

He matched it with one of his own. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Birthday’s always make you cry?”

“Only the ones my sister was killed on.”

There it was.

The words I’d usually refuse to say out loud.

I choked out a laugh, a fresh swell of tears flooding my eyes. I let them fall. Let them streak through the light layer of makeup I’d put on today. It was a pathetic attempt to hide the dark circles under my eyes and keep anyone from realizing I was having nightmares.

That I was seeing her face in my dreams.

That I was barely sleeping.

“I’m trying to numb the pain in my chest,” I admitted, forcing my body forward on shaky legs and feigning some sort of confidence as I stepped up in front of the president of a fucking motorcycle club, about to do something I’d never fucking done before. “So you can either help, or I can go and find someone else who will.”

I was going to hell.

Booking my one-way ticket right at this moment, and I didn’t even fucking care. I’d done more than my fair share of feeding my demons. Doing whatever I had to in order to endure the pain and make it through another day.

That was what life was about, wasn’t it?

Doing things to make your heart race just so you know it’s still beating.

Sweeping my hair back from my face, I leaned in, leaving barely a breath between us and trying not to freak the hell out. My heart stopped, a soft gasp escaping when he reached up, his hand following the curve of my jaw and his fingers threading through my hair. He gave it a gentle tug, pulling my head back so I was looking up at him.

Just how he wanted it, I bet.

What the fuck are you doing, Avery?

This man could hurt you.

He could kill you.

But maybe that was the best part.

“If you’re looking for someone to sweet talk you, make you feel good, you’re looking in the wrong place,” he growled, slowly forcing me back, the glass from my smashed drink crunching underneath our shoes as he pressed me hard against the building, his lips hovering over mine, like he was waiting.

“All I’m looking for is someone to fuck me into tomorrow so I can forget about today,” I threw back, my fingers reaching for the button on his jeans. I wanted him. Bad. In more ways than I even had words for. I needed someone strong enough to lift this fucking baggage off my shoulders, even if just for a damn second and let me breathe. And he was it. It emanated from him. Like this magnetic field I couldn’t help but be sucked into.

“You think you can do that?” I murmured, my heart racing as a wave of adrenaline flooded my veins, lighting the fire that burns in the depths of my stomach. All I wanted to do was feel it, let it help me forget.

Forget about my birthday.

Forget about the hole in my heart.

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