Property of Lyric (Kings of Anarchy MC: Washington #1)

Prologue

MELLIE

Seventeen years old…

“Have I told you how fucking pretty you look tonight?”

My arms tighten around Heath’s neck as we sway to the music filling the gymnasium. It’s our senior prom, and even though he’s not into all this school stuff, he came because he loves me.

“A few times,” I admit, a smile in my tone. “But you can tell me again.”

He leans away from me, his hands shifting from my back to my hips. “You are gorgeous, Mellie. Prettiest girl here.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Heath is a jeans and hoodie or cut kinda guy, but man, can he fill out a tux.

“Only for you, baby.”

Ever since I transferred to this school in the seventh grade and Heath punched a kid for taunting me, we’ve been inseparable. He’s all hard edges where I’m soft. There’s nothing about either of us that indicates we should work, but we do.

“I’m surprised your dad let you come,” I tell him when the song is over and we’re headed back to one of the tables.

Heath shrugs. “The club had a run tonight, so he doesn’t know I’m here.”

Mr. Jenkins, or Rowdy, is the president of the Kings of Anarchy MC: Washington chapter, and a real hard ass. He doesn’t like his son to get caught up in the ‘foolishness of youth’, as he puts it.

“I hate that you have to lie to him.”

“It’s fine, Mellie,” he insists. “Besides, you know my dad loves you, so even if he finds out, he’ll get over it.”

It’s true. Rowdy does love me. He treats me like I’m one of his own kids and not his son’s girlfriend. At first, it unnerved me, but I quickly realized that that’s the way of bikers. Once you're brought into the fold, you become one of them.

“Okay,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ll make him a chocolate peanut butter cake just to be safe.”

Rowdy loves sweets almost as much as he loves the club. And I’m not above exploiting that if necessary.

“Queen of my world, rebel girl,” Heath says with a smirk.

The Bikini Kill song floats through my mind, and I laugh. Heath is always using song lyrics to make a point, and while the song itself doesn’t fit, I suppose the lyric does.

“If I wanna fit in with the Kings of Anarchy, I’ve gotta be a rebel.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m the only person you should be worried about.” He winks. “And you’ve already won me over.”

The remainder of the night goes by in a blur, and before I know it, Heath is ushering me into the two-bedroom ranch house he lives in with his dad. It sits behind the KOAMC clubhouse, as Rowdy insisted he be close in case he’s needed.

The moment we step across the threshold of Heath’s bedroom, nerves threaten to send me running. I know what’s coming, and as much as I want it, I’m equally as terrified.

I watch as he kicks off his dress shoes and flops onto the bed.

He stretches out with his ankles crossed and his hands behind his head.

He removed his suit jacket, untucked his dress shirt, and unbuttoned the top few buttons before we even reached the car back at the school, and my stomach does little flip-flops at the sight of him.

He’s so relaxed, so confident, and I find myself taking tentative steps toward him.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks lazily.

I nod, fidgeting with my hands. Normally, I’d climb onto the mattress next to him and settle against his side, but there’s nothing normal about tonight. We’re not going to lie there and watch movies or make out like, well, teenagers.

Dammit… I’ve never been nervous around Heath.

When I make no move to join him on the bed, he gets to his feet and closes the distance between us. He settles his hands on my shoulders, his touch electric. A shiver of anticipation travels down my spine, and I lean into him.

“I’m scared,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“I know.”

He presses a kiss to my lips as he moves his hands to cup my cheeks. As soon as his tongue darts into my mouth, my fear melts away under the fire burning me from the inside out.

Without breaking contact, Heath pulls the pins from my hair, letting it fall. He wraps the loose strands around his fingers and tugs my head back to expose my neck. He licks a path from my mouth to the pulse point at my throat.

As he sucks on my flesh, he pushes the straps of my dress off my shoulders. The material slides down my arms, but before we can take things any further, his cell phone rings.

“Son of a bitch,” he groans and pulls away from me.

“Don’t answer it,” I say.

“I have to,” he replies as he grabs the device from his dresser. When he looks at the screen, he grimaces. “This better be good, Copper.”

I’m only able to catch Heath’s half of the conversation because he didn’t put the call on speaker, but I don’t mind. I’m used to it whenever he’s on the phone with a club member.

Heath’s body stiffens, and his eyes narrow. “He’s gonna be okay, though?” He nods several times and mumbles in response to whatever Copper is telling him. “Fine, yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Once he disconnects the call, he shifts his gaze to me and frowns. “I’m sorry, Mellie, but I—”

“You’ve gotta go,” I say, no heat in my tone. I know how the club works, how Heath works.

I watch as he rushes around the room, changing out of his tux and into tattered jeans and a long-sleeved tee. “I wouldn’t go, but it’s Rowdy,” he says while he puts on his leather jacket. “It’s… Fuck, Mel, it’s my dad.”