Page 37 of Hell on Wheels

“You reap souls.” The knowledge flooded my brain. Fucking Lucifer.

“Yes.”

Wow. “He called me a Maddog. The president of the Las Vegas Chapter of the RBMC.”

“Then that’s your title,” Grim grunted. “Congrats, you unlucky bastard.”

Mammoth and Rael chuckled. Patriot slapped me on the back. “Congratulations, Maddog.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I feel lucky.”

Laughter erupted around me. “Get ready for the fuckery.”

Well, shit. That sounded like a bad omen.

“Find Lark when you get back,” Grim advised. “Right away.”

“Why?” I asked, spooked by his words.

“You’ll figure it out.”

When I returned to the Crossroads, I felt a surge of anticipation thrumming through my body. A thrill of excitement I could hardly contain as I parked my bike. The thought of seeing Lark, of touching her, dominated everything else in my brain. I moved on a mission, undaunted by any other living soul.

She slid from a barstool when she noticed me enter The Crossroads, strutting my way as I felt my mouth water, salivating at the idea of pushing her to one of the pool tables, bending her over, and sticking my nose into her cunt, followed by my tongue. The need to taste her overwhelmed me. Sudden lust consumed my brain, grasping my cock and driving a wild, feral need to mate into the forefront of my thoughts.

I’d never reacted this way to any woman. So feral. So visceral.

My gut knotted, and a slow burn began low in my belly, smoldering, growing into an inferno of caged desire I feared would soon unleash. My breath hitched. My lungs nearly seized.

Fuck. Now I knew what Grim meant. This need to fuck overwhelmed me, lifting my lip into a snarl.

“Darlin’, room. Now.”

Her eyes widened, then dilated. Instant arousal flooded my nostrils as I inhaled, almost tasting her response on my tongue.Such a good little bitch.

The thought shocked me. It wasn’t derogatory. Not intentionally. I meant it as a compliment.

Fuck. Was that Kane’s intrusive thoughts?

Shaking my head, I stalked closer, following her down the hall and to the guest room we shared. Once inside, I had her pushed against the wall, one hand grasping her wrists and holding them against the wall above her head. The other slowly trailed her body, seeking the wet warmth between her thighs.

I popped the button on her jeans, shoving my hand inside as my nose buried in her neck, drawing in the delicious mixture of aromas that made up my woman.

Mine. All fucking mine.

She might not agree to that yet, but she would.

Lark smelled amazing. Fresh tangerine with a hint of spice invaded my brain. Summer wind on my Harley. Clean, fresh sheets. A light floral undertone.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I murmured, licking the side of her neck, tasting this female I wanted to fucking devour.

“Flint,” she gasped.

“I want you on your hands and knees. Naked. On the bed.”

My head rose to stare into her eyes.

“Now, my sweet little dove.”

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