I let out a dark chuckle. “Baby Prospect’s sex life, apparently.”
“I didn’t know he was gay.”
“And I didn’t know he was a virgin,” I mutter. “You know what they say about virgins?”
“I don’t think I want to know.”
Ignoring my best friend, I continue, “They’re meant to be sacrificed to the devil.”
“I don’t think that’s a saying, man.”
“It is now.” I wink at him and punch his arm. “Come on, we have devil’s work to do.”
Cove
Three months later…
Don’t text him. Don’t text him. Don’t text him.
Me: Want to meet at our spot?
He doesn’t respond right away, which annoys me considering I can see he read the message. It wasn’t always like this. In the beginning, he texted and called all the time. When fifteen minutes go by without a response, I get pissed off.
Me: Or not.
Again, he reads it but doesn’t respond.
Asshole.
Finally, the dots move as he types something out. I chew on my middle fingernail, nerves getting the best of me. It’s not like I’m in love or anything. I just really need the escape he offers.
Nick: I can’t.
Me: Later?
Nick: Never.
My stomach twists at his words. Since when? Nick and I have been fucking around for months, ever since my sister’s wedding back in June. We meet up mostly by the lake at a secluded park and give each other head. It works out for us.
Me: Shut up. Meet me at our spot tonight.
Nick: No.
The dots move and stop several times before another text comes through.
Nick: I’m getting back with my wife so all this has to stop if I want things to work out between us.
His wife?
What the fuck?
Me: Are you serious right now? Wife???
Nick: I should have told you. I know this.
Me: FUCK OFF.
I slam my phone down, anger pulsing through my veins. It was a bad idea to get involved with Nick. I knew it, but mostly, I wanted to prove to Dragon he didn’t get to run my life and I could see whoever I wanted.
Thinking about Dragon sours my mood even more.
He’s a stalker. Ridiculously hot but psychotic stalker.
As if summoned by my thoughts alone, I sense him enter the clubhouse. Every muscle in my body tightens and I have to try desperately not to straighten my spine. Whenever I see him, I’m filled with disgust.
He would have raped and killed me.
When we were trapped in that creepy-ass perv land, the Night Giant freak ordered him to do just that. And like a trained dog, Dragon was ready. Had my sister not gone batshit crazy and taken my place, I wouldn’t be here right now. I owe Stormy for her quick thinking, but it makes me feel like less than a man for not being able to protect her or myself.
I should have gone back to Arkansas after all that crap went down.
I should have.
My twin Calla and I both should have gone.
Instead, we stayed.
After what we went through, there wasn’t any coming back normally from it. Besides, I want to help take down that motherfucker Night Giant. He’s still out there doing fuck knows what.
That’s partially the reason I joined the Royal Bastards MC.
The other was so I could learn how to defend myself.
I’ll never allow myself to get into a situation where I can’t fight back. All the fear I’d felt at being held captive and forced to perform a sex act on that monster has dissipated. All that remains is anger.
And him.
All of this would be so much easier if he wasn’t here too, pissing me off each day. I can barely focus when Dragon is in the room with his stupid, smug smirks. He knows he’s bigger and stronger than me and doesn’t mind letting that be known.
But I’m not afraid of him.
I simply hate him.
“Baby Prospect,” Dragon barks out. “Make me a drink.”
Hate. Him. With. A. Passion.
Grinding my teeth to dust, I storm around to the back side of the bar, not bothering to look at the hot fucker. That only makes it worse. I know he’s hot. He knows he’s hot. Everyone knows he’s the devil’s beautiful gift to mankind. Doesn’t mean I have to like him.
“What do you want?” I spit out, still refusing to meet his smoldering stare.
Being a prospect, I was sure they’d give me a bitch job like cleaning the garage or working on bikes or yardwork. But Prez wants me manning the bar in the clubhouse. He’s been trying to move the partying out to the clubhouse because he and his ol’ lady are playing house in the big one. Fine by me. I like the clubhouse because it’s the farthest place away from Dragon since he still lives at Koyn’s. Only recently has he taken to bugging the shit out of me every day, though.
“For you to stop being a little asshole,” Dragon says, humor in his voice. “And a Jack and Coke. Same for Katana.”
I roll my eyes as I start their drinks. Katana, I’ve learned, is Dragon’s shadow. He silently follows him around everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy watched him take a shit. It’s bad enough having Dragon’s imposing presence clouding around me, but add in his loyal best friend, and it’s too much. I can always breathe again when they finally take their asses out of the clubhouse.
“Yo, BP,” Nees calls out.
Now I smile and the tension bleeds out of me even though I hate my road name—BP, shortened from Baby Prospect. One good thing about joining the RBMC was meeting Nees. He’s close to my age, a spitting image of his good-looking father, and we get along well. If he were gay too, I’d probably beg the dude to marry me or some shit. He’s that perfect. But he’s as straight as they come and I know better than to pursue a guy like him. Plus, I need him to be my best friend here.
I need someone.
Anyone who isn’t my twin.
Just thinking that has guilt sluicing through me. Calla and I have always been joined at the hip. But…after the kidnapping, things have been different between us. I know that shit is on me. I’m the one who’s harnessed the anger and tried to ride the wild stallion. The sweet, soft parts that match Calla’s are gone. Charred and left for dead. I can’t be who she needs me to be, so I avoid her.
I avoid a lot of people these days.
A strong hand clasps on my shoulder, making me jump. For a split second, I worry it’s Dragon. But the second I get a whiff of spearmint gum, I know it’s Nees.
“You’re on edge,” he observes, never missing a thing, much like his father.
“Just in a pissy mood.” I pour Dragon’s and Katana’s drinks. “You mind handing these over?”
He chuckles quietly. “And miss you and Dragon getting into a bitch fight? Never.”
Fucker.
I leave him to pour his own damn drink, turning to make my way over to the man I loathe. His eyes burn into me, begging for me to look at him. Not because he cares. Because he likes to stare me the fuck down anytime I’m near. I’m just angry enough today I might not be the first to look away this time. Testing that theory, I lift my gaze as I slam his drink down.
Green eyes the color of grass on a bright summer day.
Probing. Intense. Antagonistic.
Dragon truly is one of the most beautiful people on the planet. Dark lashes that frame his emerald eyes. A perfect nose seemingly chiseled by a sculptor. Full dark pink lips. Nearly black stubble along his sharp jawline and cheeks. His dark brown hair is longer on top and typically tousled in a way that looks runway or photoshoot ready. It’s always the light, silvery scars on his cheek that catch my stare, reminding me of why I hate him. Scars my sister inflicted upon him when they fucked.