Page 13 of Blood

That’s him. He crawled from my dreams, straight from the photograph I keep of him, and is standing mere feet from me. I’ve analyzed his picture, committed every detail to memory, but it didn’t do him justice. In the flesh, he is almost celestial. What a cruel god we must have to give such beauty to the shell of a killer.

The plain dark tee he is wearing clings to his broad chest like a second skin, flaring a little over his midriff beneath his leather cut. Black jeans hug his thigh muscles and end in his mud-stained shit-kicker boots. Everything in the room fades. He’s the one in charge. Power emanates from him. He haphazardly pushes his thick, dark hair back from his forehead. A dusting of scruff defines his jawline. Thick lips scream of promise. Water floods my mouth, the ache in my lower stomach growing. I’ve never wanted to kill and fuck a man more.

I don’t know how long we stay there, staring at each other. I snap my eyes from his as Kitty scurries out of her chair with a pissed-off grunt.

“I’ll be back,” she informs me, sauntering across the room.

The tide of bikers part for her with greetings and acknowledgements. It’s rare for a woman to garnish that kind of respect from men of this stature. I did good befriending her.

Kitty stops in front of Callan, and my stomach twists. He’s not mine. He has no clue who I am. He’ll never be mine. But I feel possessive all the same.I’m a devil and he’s a King.I remind myself.

Without making it too obvious, I watch their interaction. She slaps her hand against his chest and laughs, throwing her head back and gaining an appreciative glance from a blond brother standing close by. There’s a glow in the man’s gaze as he watches her with Callan. And I get it. There’s something special about her. It reminds me of Harley’s spark. My Firefly. Pain at the thought of Harley squeezes my heart.

Callan’s gaze travels back to me, warming me all over and dousing the pain from moments before. Kitty follows his path. She dips her head, a coy smile playing on her lips before she nods and walks over to me and folds herself back into her chair.

She pours another glass of beer and angles her face to study me.

“What?” I shift in my seat, feeling a tad bit paranoid.

“Come to the bathroom with me,” she says, jerking her chin toward the restrooms.

“Okay,” I say cautiously.

Following her inside, she shoos everyone out and locks the door. My nerves stir the alcohol in my stomach. “What’s going on?” I ask, fearful that the Kings do, in fact, have pictures and I’m in them. Or maybe she’s into me and I’ve been a pussy tease all night.

“Are you a cop?” she asks, stunning me silent. There’s a small pause, then she says, “Simple question.”

My mouth drops. A bark of laughter forces itself out. “No.” She moves closer, scrutinizing my face. “I promise you I’m not a cop. Why the hell would you even ask me that?”

“Lift your shirt,” she demands, tilting her chin. A knock on the door draws my attention, but hers stays firmly locked on me.

“I need to pee. Open up,” someone calls out.

“Fuck off,” Kitty barks. “Lift your shirt,” she demands, her eyes telling me to get to it.

“What the fuck?”

In truth, I know she’s checking me for a wire. We do this to new faces too.

“Just do it.”

I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it up, standing there with my tits on full display. “Happy?”

There’s a silent beat, the cool air against my bare skin making me shiver, the slight smell of water damage pricking my nose.

“You have great tits.” She looks back up at my face, offering me a toothy grin.

“You’re a weirdo.” I scoff, pulling my shirt back down.

“Sorry. I just had to be sure before—” She disappears into one of the stalls ignoring the Out-of-Order sign taped on the door, which she leaves open.

“Before what?” I grate out, quirking a brow.

Dropping her shorts, she sits to pee. “Before taking you back to the clubhouse.” She wipes then stands up, wiggling her shorts back into place but not before flashing me everything downstairs. Water gushes from the toilet when she flushes, making her squeal.

My mouth hits the floor. “You dyed your pubes?” Wait—did she say back to their clubhouse?

“Keeps things interesting.” She sticks her tongue out, her smile growing wider as she kicks her leg to flick the water from the sole of her shoes. “You wanna come party back at our clubhouse or what?”

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