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“Cool, cool. But I’ll just keep it for now, right? You know how it is on the streets.”
I shook my head at the girl, biting back a smile. Wouldn’t do to encourage her insolent ass. She may not be ready to completely trust me yet but my wolf already considered her family. And it was nice to know, despite being human, she could give as good as she got in the pack.
“Just so you know,” I growled, looking each kid in the eye so they knew I was dead set. “None of you are allowed to die on me.”
Talia whimpered but Addy wrapped a cheerful arm around her sister’s shoulders and nudged her forward. “Sounds like a plan, cousin. Let’s blow this joint.”
BELLY OF THE BEAST
Sasha
Emerging from the burning clubhouse into the cool air of the desert was like being forced to learn to breathe again. My eyes streamed from the smoke while I gagged and coughed. The remaining Soul Reapers had fallen in behind us, leaving those too stupid to live to battle it out inside.
As soon as we were clear, the biker set me down and spun me around to face him.
I froze as he took out a wicked knife and slipped that blade like a lover’s kiss between my tender neck and the loathsome collar. As the disgusting leather fell away from my neck, my shoulders straightened of their own accord.
Though my face felt like it was painted with soot and exhaustion, a small, private smile tilted my lips as I stared at the chest of the formidable warrior. Buying myself a bit of time as my emotions—and hormones—ran riot, I fingered the lettering on his cut. President and Grimm were emblazoned on the breast.
I’d seen the Soul Reapers MC logo on the back of the berserker who’d taken the lead through the melee, too. I’d snorted as I’d read it because the shifter was in the middle of ripping the head off of a particularly foul Bone Crusher. I’d often fantasized about doing the same thing, especially when the disgusting piece of work had been eyeing up Addy and Talia like a two-for-one.
The Prez cupped my cheek with a rough hand. His hand moved down to tenderly circle my neck, while his thumb soothed the bruised skin left there. Before I even knew what I was doing, I melted into that sweet touch from a hard man.
My breath hitched as Grimm licked his lips. My tongue burned to trace the same line. Then, as if he could read my dirty thoughts, his lips twisted into a snarl. Without a word, the alpha lifted me again—more roughly this time—and stalked toward his people.
I felt like a tornado had picked me up and was knocking me about, shaking up my insides. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sensation. In fact, it was very thrilling to be wrapped up in the chaotic mess of the Soul Reapers’ leader.
I snuggled a little closer and enjoyed the heat of his skin pressed against my own naked flesh.
Grimm’s rage soothed the inferno inside me. Reassured me that the hatred I felt for the men burning inside the Bone Crushers’ clubhouse was justified. That the vengeance I longed for was necessary and the Soul Reapers had been sent here to see it done.
It felt as if the Gods agreed with me.
As far as the eye could see, the Badlands were stained red and fog rolled down from the hills to the valley floor. But what stole my focus was the full moon hanging like a deadly omen in the sky. It painted the smoke billowing out of the dying building into a sanguine specter.
Rough men—many naked, though thankfully most were pulling on sweatpants—stood around the back of an old fifteen passenger van. The bikers were holding guns and facing out toward the scrubgrass. Forming a protective circle.
A protective circle around my people.
They were huddled together, arms around each other as they accepted blankets and shirts. The despicable collars had been stripped off their necks, too. The hateful contraptions were lying in the dust outside of the circle. Fitting.
One of the men wearing sweats and nothing else, poured gasoline on the mound and lit it on fire. Something about the silhouette of that shifter—quietly raging against dark deeds done in the night—sent a thrill through my veins. I quickly tore my gaze away to continue taking stock.
My charges all looked stunned to hell but at least they were out of the kennels. Standing under the light of the Blood Red Moon without the Bone Crushers breathing down their necks.
Viola had gathered the stripper shoes we’d all been forced to wear in a pile at her feet and was throwing them—like pointy missiles—at any fleeing mutts she could see. Most of them landed in the dirt, but a few hit their targets, causing a satisfying howl which in turn set the Soul Reapers chuckling.
I’d forgotten what real laughter sounded like.
The Bone Crushers never chuckled or laughed. Unless it was at our expense. And then the sound was full of ugliness and the promise of further pain.
I would’ve found it funny, too, if it hadn’t also made me want to cry. Ineffectual rage, expressed too little and far too late. Those fleeing bastards deserved a lot worse than a sharp stiletto to the ass.
The firebug stepped out from behind the van door, holding blankets, and my breath caught as the light of the headlights struck him. His bare chest glistened and those sweats rode low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination. My inner horndog was barking her ass off.
Our eyes locked and my belly plummeted.
I squeezed my thighs together to keep from squirming as Grimm strode purposefully forward. My pulse raced as I realized he was heading straight for the blond-haired, half-naked biker who’d frozen in the middle of handing out blankets when our eyes met.
