Page 1 of Blood

CHAPTER1

HAPPILY EVER…

PRINCESS/ROGUE

Unlucky. Isn’t that what they say when the groom sees the bride the night before the wedding?

Tyler’s tongue sweeps through my mouth, the growl in the back of his throat demanding as he grinds his crotch against the apex of my thighs. I came to the clubhouse to look for my sister—and Tyler caught me. He’s a shark smelling blood in the water. There’s no circling, just a straight-out attack. After he tossed me over his shoulder to the cheers of his brothers, he marched me to his room, and now I’m pinned against the bedroom wall.Captured prey for his devouring.

“Let’s get married right now so I can fuck you sore tonight,” he says with a husky grumble, cupping my tits and squeezing to the point of pain. I moan on cue, rotating my hips to graze the bulge hardening against me.

I’ve studied Tyler over the years. He’s all about precise movements, moaning at the right time with a congratulations afterward and a sated sigh. It would shock the shit out of him to know I sometimes go to the bathroom after we fuck, to finish myself off.

“Come lie down with me.” He tugs on my arm, dragging me toward his bed. The heavy scent of booze, smoke, and bad decisions lingers in the room. The sheets are rumpled and stained. The last dregs from a beer bottle leak onto the carpet from the trash can beside the bed.Gross. I’d rather be home with Harley, having a girls’ night.

“I came to find my sister,” I protest between kisses, attempting to wiggle free and failing. Tyler is a good-looking man and fifteen years my senior. He has a confidence about him that you only get with experience.

His sandy brown hair is pulled back from his face and tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The scruff of his beard hasn’t seen a razor in weeks, but the scrape of it is familiar and almost comforting as he deepens our kiss. The taste of liquor burns my tongue from his evening of drinking in celebration of his last night of being “single.”

Such a joke.

There’s no way Tyler will be faithful. He hasn’t been up to this point. Club sluts aren’t shy when gossiping about him.

If only I could magic up enough emotion to care.

Resting his forehead against mine, he closes his eyes to catch his breath, offering me a reprieve from his drunken onslaught.

“Your sister isn’t here.” He wrinkles his brow as his hands creep down to grab my hips, the possession and need bruising as he digs the pads of his fingers into my supple flesh. I like the bite of pain, and he knows it. “If she is, I haven’t seen her,” he adds.

Shit. I thought for sure Harley would be here. She lives for club parties.

He adds pressure to my hips when I remain silent, and a moan slips past my lips. “Stay the night,” he begs, lust pouring from him like a teen boy on prom night.

Music vibrates the walls. The brothers’ raucous laughter carries down the hallway, reminding us there’s a party happening a few feet away. “You’re missing the fun,” I tempt, my fingers dancing over the president patch on his cut. Leaning forward, I kiss the club colors. I love this club, I lovehim, but it’s not an overwhelming love. It’s a familiar love. A love you have when you’ve known someone your whole life—grown up with them—a family love.

“You’re the only fun I care about.” He exhales, thrusting his hips forward.

“It’s bad luck,” I tell him, biting my lip.

“Like you give a shit about tradition,” he scoffs, taking my earlobe between his teeth. “I’ve fucked you every which way from Sunday before this wedding, what’s one more time?”

I don’t give a shit about tradition. But I do want to find Harley. We made a pact to spend tonight doing sisterly stuff. This wedding has been coming for a long time, but there’s a hummingbird inside me flapping her rampant wings, trying to free herself from the cage I’ve trapped her in. I need my sister. I need tonight without him.

Pushing the unwanted thoughts away, I refocus on Tyler. “She hasn’t been home since the party yesterday.” My tone is firmer. I manage to loosen his grip on me with hands pushing at his shoulders.

He sighs and releases me, backing away. Slipping off his cut, he drags his t-shirt over his head, displaying the ink decorating his toned torso.

“It’s my last night as a Stewart,” I pout. I sway my hips as I walk toward him. My hands come up to stroke his now bare chest. The enormous skull tattoo inked on his skin, complete with devil horns, comes to life under my touch. “Tomorrow, I’m all yours. Forever,” I say, ignoring the pit widening in my stomach at the reality of those words.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he flattens me against him, the heat of his breath dispersing over my lips. “You’ve always been mine.” There’s ownership in his words. A warning. He knows I haven’t been with anyone but him. It would be a death sentence to any poor soul I took to my bed.

Yet, the claw marks on his shoulder prove it’s a one-way rule. My eyes flick to my short nails, painted with a clear polish and black tips. No, it wasn’t me who made those marks. No doubt it was Jenna, a.k.a. Barbie, his favorite club slut with her ridiculous fake nails that look more like talons, if talons were painted bright pink with sparkly jewels glued on them.I think I just threw up in my mouth.

“What are you thinking about?” He frowns, strong fingers tugging a strand of my auburn hair.

“You, tomorrow, and finding Harley,” I lie with a shrug.

“Fine.” He exhales, exasperated, before releasing me once more. “Go see Bear. If anyone knows if she’s been here, it’s him.”

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