Page 121 of Harley & Her Ferals

My heart is in my mouth.

Are we going to crash?

I’m breathing hard; it’s all I can hear inside my helmet.

We’re going to hit each other.

We’re going to…

The other rider skids skillfully at the same time as I do.

Our front wheels crunch to a rumbling stop inches apart.

For a moment, I sit frozen, as my hands grip with white knuckles to the handlebars.

Then I’m ripping off my helmet and tossing it to the ground.

“Are you crazy? What the fuck are you doing?” I yell.

This close, I can see that the man is athletic and dressed in tight but well-worn black leathers. His helmet is decorated with a wolf.

Wait, I recognize that design.

I’ve seen it before.

My heart speeds up, but this time, it’s because I hope that I know who is seated opposite me.

When the man pulls off his helmet, placing it behind him, silvery hair cascades out.

Harbinger.

Butterflies swarm in my stomach.

When my cheeks heat, I hope that it’s not obvious how much he’s affecting me.

How much he now means to me.

Even if the jerk has just gained my attention by knocking me off my bike. Or is that only wishful thinking?

Didn’t Harbinger realize that it was me? Is he simply a bad rider?

“But we didn’t.” Harbinger runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it down. “Having fun yet, Kitten?”

“I could have killed you.”

“I’m touched that you care about me. Or do you just want another chance at me in the octagon?”

I try to hold onto my anger, but it’s impossible when the evidence of the beating that Harbinger took yesterday is so obvious.

Harbinger’s cheek is swollen. Both his eyes are purple and bruised. His lip looks painful.

After the discipline he took, I don’t know how he’s sitting so casually on the bike.

Maybe he’s used to it.

I can’t hold myself back. And I can’t waste this opportunity.

I put my feet down, then park the Harley, kicking on the stand. I climb off the motorcycle, before rushing to Harbinger.

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