Claimed By The Ruthless Biker

No, he did not step out, I thought as I looked at the stranger with an open mouth.He appeared.It was as if the shadows had been holding him and finally decided to let him go.He was huge. Taller than every man in the room. Broad in a way that made the narrow space behind the bar look too small for him. His black shirt stretched across his chest and arms covered in tattoos that disappeared beneath the sleeves and climbed up the side of his neck. I saw sharp lines, numbers, shapes, symbols I could not understand.A scar cut through his left eyebrow and down toward his cheek.But it was his eyes that stopped me.They were grey. Cold. And fixed on the man blocking the door.The whole bar seemed to hold its breath around him.The bartender stopped wiping a glass. The pool cue lowered. The drunk man’s hand dropped from the door.“Cain,” Rafe said, trying for a laugh and missing. “I was just being friendly.”Cain said nothing. He only looked at him and Rafe took one step away from me. Then

By morning, my hand hurt from holding the key.I had not slept at all. I had sat on the edge of the narrow bed in Room 4 with my boots still on, my bag beside me, and my eyes fixed on the bottom of the door until the shadows under it stopped moving.Once, close to dawn, I thought I heard someone breathing in the hallway.Or maybe that was me. Maybe fear had learned how to echo in my ears. When the first pale light slipped through the thin curtains, I stood too quickly and nearly fell. My knees buckled. I grabbed the dresser to steady myself, and the old wood groaned beneath my palm.“Get up,” I whispered to myself. “Leave.”That was the planSimple.Leave before Cain Harlow woke up.Leave before the men downstairs started looking at me like I was something marked.Leave before this town, this bar, this room with its locked door and old soap smell, began to feel like anything close to safe.Safe was dangerous.Safe made people careless.I splashed cold water on my face in the tiny bat

“You should go to your room,” Cain said, the words coming out less like an advice and more like a command.I stepped closer, brows furrowing, “I’m not staying here for another night.” I complained.The sharp metallic scent of blood quickly filled the room, making me nauseous.“And where would you go?”I was just as clueless as I was last night. I had nowhere in mind. “That’s my business.” I simply shot back.My gaze snapped toward Rafe just as another pained whimper left him.“Damn it,” he hissed through clenched teeth as someone poured alcohol over what looked like a bullet wound.What the hell do these people get themselves into?“Quiet down, Rafe,” Cain ordered, his voice calm despite the chaos around here.Rafe’s eyes widened instantly as he bit back another cry, his entire body tensing against the pain.I turned back to Cain, “I’ll need my car.”“It’s in my garage.”I pushed back my head a bit, surprised that he didn’t argue with me this time around.I stretched out my hand, “My

The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the silence.For a few seconds, I simply lay there, staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling above me while my mind slowly caught up with where I was.The Pit.The strange biker bar I had somehow agreed to stay in.The same place I had spent my entire first night wide awake, clutching the bedsheets so tightly my fingers had cramped, convinced that at any second one of those tattooed men downstairs would come barging in.But none of them had.And somehow… I had survived the night.I pushed myself upright, glancing toward the door instinctively.It was still locked, exactly how I left it.A small breath escaped me. Maybe Mara had been telling the truth.Or maybe I was lowering my guard too quickly.I climbed out of bed and made my way toward the door, unlocking it before stepping into the hallway.That was when my eyes landed on the room opposite mine.The door was slightly open.I paused.I was certain it had been shut last night. Fo

I’ve heard a lot of stories about terrible motorcycle accidents. And because of that, I never really thought of riding one.But here I was, riding behind Cain Harlow. My arms tightened around his leather cut, pressing against his hard abs.I sure hated his guts, but here I was holding on to him because my life depended on it.It really did.The streets of Greystone was quiet, but I saw more people walking around than I had when I first arrived. Some stopped to look just as we drove past, while some moved along as though they were already used to the noisy bike riders in this town.Cain drove like he had nine lives.Well, I had just one. And I badly wanted to tell him to slow down, but with the heavy breeze coursing through the air as the bike went on high speed, and in addition to the helmets we wore, I doubted he’d hear anything.I endured the ride. And for some awkward reason, I was loving it too.His masculine scent, and the warmth of his body.Shit, Ava. Get a grip.You hate th