Page 3 of Mad Max

Instead, I just smile and look up, faking it all the way. But only one person is still paying me attention—the beast. I think they called him Mad Max, and since he’s the only one without a name tag on, I’m making this decision without any doubts for once.

I kind of get lost in his eyes for a bit. He isn’t laughing at me. He’s just staring, and his dark brown eyes, which match the mocha of his hair, seem to swirl a bit. I don’t know if it’s the lights or not, but it’s almost hypnotic and makes my lips dry.

I clear my throat, more to force myself to focus on something else. This guy is intense. I feel it radiating off him, and I’m like a freaking moth just wanting to get closer to the flame. I’ve reacted to guys before—I’m not a blushing virgin—but this one is different. I know it’s impossible to feel a zap for another, but I swear the couch is connected to hot wires. It’s the only explanation for the zing of electricity I have going on right now, just from feeling so much intensity rolling off him and focused solely on me.

“I think I’ll go find my date. Maybe he got us those drinks. Only been twenty minutes now.” I laugh it off, but no one even cracks a smile. Tough crowd.

I wave as I leave, though no idea why. It’s just my thing, I guess—always a wave goodbye and a friendly hello, no matter who it is.

The house isn’t very big, but it’s pretty packed. At least it is in the main living space and kitchen. I head to the back, where I know a second door is; I saw one when we drove around this place, looking for a parking spot. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, and the entire yard is one big parking lot outside.

I turn down a hallway, expecting to find only the door leading outside, but it’s being blocked. The image in front of me has me pulling up short and then grunting as someone stumbles into me. I barely take a step forward from the impact before strong fingers dig deep into my arm and halt my movement a second before they leave my skin.

I glance back and see the beast. He just glares. I’m assuming he’s mad that I stopped, but in my defense, I had no clue anyone was behind me, especially so close that my sudden lack of walking would affect anyone but me. Yet I still feel an urge to explain.

“I found Benny.”

Mad Max tilts his head to me, and his hair falls over one eye. I clench my hands at my sides, forcing myself to remain still and not push the strand behind his ear. Guess my explanation gives nothing away because he looks at me to say more.

I glance back at what stopped me, and I feel Mad Max’s eyes stop looking at me and follow my lead. “That’s Benny. My date.”

I’m not whispering, nor am I yelling. I’m not really even sure how I should feel. This probably happens all the time, and maybe for bikers it’s as normal as breathing. I just never thought I would see someone I know having sex. Or whatever they’re trying to do, as Benny is all tongue and mouth on some blonde who’s not that much better off in the coordination department. The kisses look sloppy as hell from here, but their hands are all over each other and seem to be doing just fine.

“Huh, I didn’t know he knew that move.” I’m more enthralled than anything, almost like I’m in a trance as I watch Benny try to lift the girl up. It doesn’t work. He’s not strong enough, and she isn’t a spring chicken. Not that I’m dissing her, but the girl’s got so much junk in her trunk that someone would need a crane to lift it. Instead they teeter but, despite the laws of physics, don’t fall.

“You guys together?”

The deep voice next to me sends shivers through me, and the sex in the air probably explains why I feel the need to squeeze my thighs together.

I spare Benny another glance before I look at the beast who makes me feel about eighteen times more than what I feel for the one dipping his dick in God only knows who. I just met this one.

“Not anymore.”

He grunts and then steps in front of me. I try to look over his shoulder, but the guy is the size of a house. I can’t even attempt to see what’s going on, even if my five-one ass jumps up.

“Get out,” Mad Max snarls.

“Wait, what? You can’t kick us out,” Benny says, startled at first till he gets defensive. His voice sounds so weak compared to Mad Max’s.

“I can and I am. I don’t want to see you anywhere near this place or any Hounds of the Reaper territory.”

“Oh come on, baby, he’s just a kid. Let me finish him off, and then I’ll come find you, Maxy.” The girl’s voice gives me an instant headache with the high pitchiness of it.

“That goes for you, too, Shelia. You’re done.”

“You can’t do that!” she screams, but Mad Max doesn’t even move a muscle. Trust me, I’ve got an amazing view of his back, and I’m watching. His shirt is like a second skin on him, and I see all the well-defined yumminess being covered up by black cotton.

“It’s already done.”

I jump as I hear the door slam shut a second before the beast turns back to me. No one else came in, and even though I was blocked from most of it, I felt like I was a part of it.

“You, um, you didn’t have do that. I mean, for me.”

He takes a step toward me, and I counter, dancing in a circle as I pivot away from the hallway I was standing in.

“But thanks. Not many people stand up for me like that,” I confess.

Another step and I continue to dance backward till I hit a wall. The same one the former lovers were all over, next to the back door.

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