Betrayed In Crimson (Crimson Covenant MC #2)

Chapter 1 – Lilith

CHAPTER ONE

LILITH

“Lilith, get up. The new jukebox is coming in today, and your dad and I need to run errands in the city.”

I groan and burrow deeper beneath the blankets. “I worked the late shift,” I mumble. My mom yanks the covers clean off me.

“The bar is our bar. Our family bar. We all pull our weight. And maybe if you hadn’t stayed up half the night with that Syphilis and his friend—”

“Silas,” I snap, squinting at her. “His name is Silas. And it’s his brother, Morbius. We were playing pool. I’m twenty-five, Mom. Not fifteen.”

She folds her arms. “Your sister is at Sunday school. Your brother is helping Mrs. Heck.”

I snort. “Yeah. I’m sure he is.”

“It’s only nine,” she adds sharply.

“I’ve had four hours of sleep!”

But she’s already walking out. “There’s stock coming in for New Year’s Eve!”

“It’s only November!” I shout after her.

By the time night settles over town, I’m stretched across one of the vinyl booths, drifting in and out of sleep. The bar is silent, wrapped in darkness. When I finally blink awake, the world outside the windows is black and still.

I unlock the front doors and push them open.

The jukebox sits alone on the sidewalk, strapped to a dolly like some abandoned relic. No delivery truck. No driver.

“Hello?” I call out. Only silence answers.

I step outside and grab the handles. “Jesus, this thing weighs a ton.”

“I don’t know what’s more entertaining,” a voice murmurs beside me, low and amused. “Watching you struggle with it or watching you think you won’t.”

I gasp, spinning around. “Morbius! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me?”

He smiles, slow and deliberate. His dark hair blends into the night, but his violet eyes catch in the moonlight.

“Maybe I enjoy the way your heart races when I do.”

“Or maybe you just enjoy being irritating.” I try to sound annoyed, but my pulse hasn’t steadied. “Where’s Silas?”

“With the club.” Of course he is.

Morbius steps closer. Too close. The air shifts with him; cool, charged, electric. His thumb brushes lightly across my cheek, and a shiver ripples down my spine.

“So tonight,” he says softly, “it’s just you and me.”

“I need to get this inside before my parents—”

“There’s an overturned truck on the highway. They won’t be back for hours.”

“My brother—”

“Occupied.”

“My sister—”

He leans in, his lips barely grazing mine. “Very occupied.”

My breath stutters. “We’re friends.”

His eyes darken, something fierce flickering behind them. “I’d rather be more.”

I’ve always known he was dangerous. Not in the loud, reckless way the town whispers about him, but in the quiet way; the kind that waits and watches, the kind that chooses.

My heart pounds as I close the distance and kiss him, and the world tilts.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him as if I weigh nothing at all. His mouth moves over mine with a hunger that steals the air from my lungs. I fist his shirt, clinging to him as the kiss deepens; slow at first, then urgent, breathless.

He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist, startled by the strength in his grip. The bar door slams shut behind us, the sound echoing in the empty room. He sets me on one of the tables and steps between my knees.

For a moment, he pulls back. His gaze drags over me, intense, almost reverent, but there’s something else there too; something darker, something restrained.

I hook my fingers into the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.

His breath catches. “Lilith.” My name leaves his mouth like a warning. But I don’t stop. I reach for him instead, sliding my hands up his chest, feeling the solid strength of him beneath his clothes. He shudders.

His forehead presses to mine. His breathing is uneven now. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he murmurs.

“Then show me.”

For a split second, something flashes across his face—conflict, maybe even fear—before it vanishes.

His hands trace slowly down my sides, leaving fire in their wake.

Every touch is deliberate, restrained, as though he’s holding back more than I understand.

My skin feels too sensitive, my body too aware of every place his fingers graze.

He kisses me again, deeper this time, his hand tangling in my hair as though he’s afraid I’ll disappear. I feel the tension in him—a battle between hunger and restraint—and it makes my pulse thunder louder.

His lips drift from my mouth to my jaw, to the curve of my throat. When they pause there, he freezes. His body goes rigid. For a heartbeat, I feel it; the shift. The air turns colder.

“Morbius?” I whisper.

He pulls back abruptly, eyes blazing not just with desire now but with something raw and predatory that makes my stomach flip.

“Careful,” he says hoarsely.

But instead of stepping away, he gathers me closer, burying his face in my hair as if grounding himself. His grip tightens; possessive, protective.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs against my skin.

I laugh softly, brushing my fingers along his jaw. “You won’t.”

He looks at me like I’ve just handed him something fragile and sacred. “You have no idea what I am,” he whispers. And for the first time since I’ve known him, I think he might mean that literally.

Outside, the town remains silent. Inside the bar, wrapped in shadows and neon reflections, he kisses me again; slower now, more controlled, like he’s savoring something he’s waited lifetimes to taste. And this time, when he pulls me closer, there’s no hesitation.

Only heat. Only hunger. Only us.