Chapter 1 Molly

Iwinced as I moved the makeup brush over my cheek, smoothing foundation over the tender, purplish mark on my face. The bruise looked darker in the light of day, where the shadows of night couldn’t hide the ugliness of the truth. With a sigh, I finished applying blush, lip gloss, and a light dusting of powder, followed by a bronzer. By the time I finished, the bruise had been covered. No one would know.

My phone buzzed as I shoved all my makeup back into the zippered bag I kept on the counter in my bathroom. I smiled when I saw Embry’s name flash over the screen. Swiping across the screen, I answered her call.

“Hey, Em.”

“Get your ass over here, babe. The sun is high, and I need color on my pasty skin.”

Snorting, I shook my head. “I’m ready. Just need to grab a towel and sunscreen, and I’ll head over.”

“I’ve got iced sweet tea. Just bring your sexy ass, and we’ll be all set.”

“On my way,” I replied before she ended the call.

With the sun shining brightly through my bedroom window, it was easy to push aside the oppressive, dark energy that flowed around me, extending from last night and my stepfather’s drunken tirade.

A shaky breath left my mouth on an exhale. He wasn’t here. Fred had left for work over two hours ago. I didn’t have to worry right now.

My gaze swept over my room and the drawing I finished sometime after midnight. Dark swirls and hidden faces stared back in sweeping, chaotic charcoal. The play between light and dark, the shadows, and the eerie, haunting shading I’d used proved my mind had retreated to a scary place after Fred’s explosive anger and physical violence last night.

Art was my salvation. A place where I could shove all the trauma, rage, pain, and horror and release it. Charcoal had become my favorite medium. I often got covered in charcoal dust, but it didn’t bother me. It washed off easily enough. But the result? The chalky depth of emotion translated so much better than paint.

A monster lived in my house, and the only way to lock him away from my mind was to shove him into a place where he couldn’t escape.

Embry lived at the end of the street. It took two minutes to reach her house. I entered through the gate to the left of her front porch and walked into her backyard, where I found her exposed to the sun as she stretched out on a folding lounge chair. Oversized sunglasses shielded her eyes as I sat in the empty chaise beside her.

“It’s hotter than hades out here already, and it’s only ten,” she complained as I whipped my coverup over my head and draped it over the back of the lounger. “Wow. That’s pretty. Is that the embroidered one you ordered last week?”

“Yep. Just got it in the mail yesterday. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Totally.” She readjusted her position and relaxed.

I pulled out the bottle of sunscreen and lightly applied it, slicking my body with the lotion. After a couple of minutes of exposure, the sun was already baking my skin. I wasn’t the type to get golden brown or bronzed. Embry had that particular gene, and I might have been slightly envious of her olive skin tone and dark, silky hair. But I got decent color and wouldn’t burn if I kept the sunscreen on. I just had to remember to reapply after we went swimming.

The pool glistened a few feet in front of us as a light breeze rippled across the crystal-clear water. Blue and white tiles in a stunning mosaic winked from below the surface. The jacuzzi bubbled to our right as if expecting company, and the calm serenity helped me forget about last night.

“I’m so glad it’s summer break. We literally have nothing to do for the next couple of months but lounge in my yard, swim, work on our tans, and meet cute boys.”

I snorted. “What cute boys are you referring to? I haven’t seen anyone new arrive in Vegas that isn’t a tourist or summer vacationer.”

“I’m being an optimist, bestie.”

I couldn’t help giggling at her response. “Right.”

“I’m sure it won’t matter to you until Slash arrives.”

Slash. Embry’s older cousin. The guy I’d secretly had a crush on since last summer when he showed up inked, muscled, and riding a Harley. Before then, I never thought bad boys were my type. Now, I kinda wondered if they were my only type because I’d since dated two guys who rode a motorcycle. Neither of them made my stomach flutter the same way Slash did, and that was a problem.

He didn’t know I existed.

“Embry,” I exhaled with a sigh.

“I know you think he doesn’t like you, but I saw how he looked at you the last time he was here. I’ve never seen heat blaze in a guy’s eyes for me like that.”

Uh-huh.

Wait. “Did you say Slash was coming?”

She pulled down her shades. “Not literally. Gross.”

I rolled my eyes. She had such a dirty mind and loved to tease me at every opportunity.

Embry lost her V-card at fifteen. She wasn’t shy about her sexual conquests. The girl owned her sexuality and didn’t care about what other people thought of her.

I wished I had that confidence. The couple of encounters I had weren’t all that much to brag about. I didn’t enjoy it like I hoped I would. Sex seemed more for the guy than a girl, in my opinion. But I knew that was formed from inexperience. Maybe someday I’d learn differently and find a guy who could get me off better than my own fingers.

Slash would be the perfect guy to teach me.

“He said he planned to stay for a week. Something about meeting up with another chapter of the Feral Rebels.”

Slash lived in Ohio. Embry said he patched into his club when he was twenty. That was over ten years ago. He was probably too old for me, but I didn’t care. None of the boys my age interested me. I’d always been more mature—an old soul. My mom used to say that all the time when she was still alive.

I winced at the thought. Today wasn’t the day to let those memories overtake me.

“Doesn’t he usually stay at the clubhouse when he comes to Las Vegas?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but he always stops by to say hi and visit me and my parents.”

I knew from previous conversations that Slash’s mother and Embry’s mother were sisters. Carol, Slash’s mother, still lived in Nevada. Henderson, actually. Embry’s mother, Sandie, was the youngest of the siblings. They also had a brother who lived in Ohio. He was the V.P. of Slash’s club.

I didn’t know his real name, only that Slash called his uncle Grave. Hades was the president. The club originated in Hocking Hills and had branched out into several other chapters in the U.S. According to Embry, Las Vegas was the second largest.

That summed up most of what I knew about Slash. I’d only talked to him for longer than a few minutes a handful of times. But God, he had a deep, gravelly voice that made me shiver and eyes so dark they were pools of liquid onyx. They reminded me of charcoal, gritty, expressive, and highly combustible. When he looked at me, I could swear they were about to ignite at any second.

Embry wasn’t wrong. I’d seen the heated look in his eyes, and it wasn’t only one time. Whenever I caught him staring at me, and it was often, I saw it. But he confused me. He never attempted to touch me, flirt, or do anything inappropriate.

Slash was nothing like the stereotype portrayed of bikers—well, not in mannerisms or behavior. He sure did look the part. I’d never seen a man so covered in black ink. Tall, muscled, bearded, and confident, he had a swagger that turned heads when he walked by. And I still couldn’t forget that sensual, deep timbre when he spoke.

“You’re thinking about him,” Embry laughed. “Admit it.”

“I am.”

“You know, if it was anyone else, I’d say watch out. Those bikers are tough and scary, but not my cousin. Slash isn’t like that.”

I shot her a look. Slash had the same dangerous edge that all bikers seemed to radiate. My experience may be limited, but he did fit the stigma in that aspect. It was the kindness in his tone, the intelligence, and the protective vibe I got from him when he was near that seemed different than the typical cocky bad boy who rode a motorcycle.

“And your uncle,” I pointed out.

She shook her head as a smile curved her lips. “No. Uncle Grave is dangerous. He doesn’t pretend he’s not, either. Not that Slash does. It’s just different with my cousin. I’ve always thought of him as a gentle giant.”

I wondered if Slash would laugh at that description. “Well, I’m getting hot. I say we get in the pool for a bit.”

She snickered. “Okay, Molls.”

I stood and walked to the edge, lowering to my bottom before slipping my feet into the cool water. The sun had heated it, but the contrast felt delicious on my skin. It didn’t take long to cool off. We lounged in the sun most of the afternoon.

After our third dip into the pool, I dried off in the sun. My stomach rumbled loud enough to alarm half of Las Vegas.

Embry ticked her chin at me. “I’m hungry too. I made chicken salad sandwiches and cut up fresh fruit. I’ll go inside and grab it along with the iced tea.”

“I’ll go,” I offered. “I’ve got to use the bathroom after all the water I’ve been drinking.” I showed her the empty tumbler I’d brought with me. The ice clinked against the steel interior as I shook it. “I want to fill this up.”

She waved her hand. “Sounds good to me. “Let me know if you need help.”

“I will.”

I entered her house, made a quick stop to the restroom, and then gathered up the food and filled my tumbler, adding more ice. I brought it outdoors and placed everything on the table between us.

“I just need to grab the tea and a couple of glasses.”

Embry sat up, nabbing a sandwich off the plate. “I can’t wait. I’m starving.”

“Me either,” I laughed, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. “I’ll be right back.”

Embry’s kitchen was almost identical to the layout of mine.

Or, I should say, Fred’s. The same center island, cabinets with honey-colored stained wood, a stainless-steel sink and appliances, and granite countertops. Most of the houses in this neighborhood were a bit cookie-cutter but still lovely.

I opened the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of iced tea, noting Embry had cut up lemon wheels and stuck them inside. Cute.

I grabbed a couple of glasses, turned around, and slammed into a solid wall of muscle. The glasses slipped from my fingers, but I managed to hold onto the pitcher.

“Shit,” I whispered, cringing before they hit the floor and shattered.

They didn’t. A big, powerful, solidly built biker caught them first. He smirked as I gasped.

“Slash.”

“The one and only,” he replied.

“Uh, hi.”

He pushed his sunglasses over his forehead while his dark eyes assessed my face. His smile faded, and I watched his jaw grind. Instantly, his expression went from playful to hard as volcanic rock.

Slash set the glasses on the counter, grabbed the pitcher from my hands, and set it beside them. He moved into my personal space, gripping my jaw as his eyes narrowed. The tenderness of his touch was such a contrast to the cold obsidian of his eyes that I flinched.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” I swallowed the pool of saliva suddenly filling my mouth. “You just look pissed, and I don’t know why.”

He turned my head to the side, staring at my face as his thumb slid over my cheek. “Who hit you?”

Oh. Fuck.

My makeup must have washed off in the pool.

“I, uh,” I stammered, unable to finish when he had his hands on my body. The one held my face, but the other had drifted to my waist, curling around my hip. “Slash.”

“Who. Hit. You.”

Oh, God. The way he growled those words, I could see what other people did. The dangerous biker who spilled blood to protect his club. The vicious outlaw and rebel capable of vengeance and violence that scared the police and infuriated men like my older brother, Torin, who worked for the FBI. A member of a notorious biker gang who could gun a man down while riding his Harley. Not that I believed Slash would do any of those things, but the rage in his eyes was magnificently intimidating.

I didn’t reply.

“I’m only gonna ask one more time before I start hunting down every motherfucker who ever dared to look at you.”

Well, shit.

Was it possible to be turned on and terrified by the same sentence?

Before I had a chance to reply, Embry opened the sliding glass door and entered.

“Molls, what,” she began, blinking as she saw Slash. She blinked, frowned, and turned to me, her gaze sliding over my face. “Oh, shit!”