Sneak Peek of Myla
Myla
“Y ou should’ve come with me,” I sang into the phone, running my hand along the side of the building so I didn’t go ass over teakettle on the uneven ground.
“I still feel like shit,” my best friend Lou mumbled, laughter in her voice. “Having a good time?”
“I’ve been dancing for an hour,” I confirmed. “I haven’t been this sweaty in at least a year.”
“That guy.” She snickered. “What was his name?”
“John,” I replied with a shudder. “But thankfully, this time it’s my own sweat.”
“Sweaty John,” she said with a laugh. “Right.”
“Everyone is here but you,” I complained. “Frankie was doing shots with my brother, and he puked.”
“Which brother?”
“Dumb question.”
“Rumi.”
“Yep. You should’ve seen Nova’s face. She was torn between laughing her ass off and punching him. It was awesome.”
“Where are you now?” Lou asked, her voice muffled like she’d pressed her face back against the pillow.
“Going back to my tent,” I said with a sigh. “I was feeling the need to sit down—”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “If I passed out and one of my brothers had to drag me out of there—”
“Or your dad.”
I shuddered again.
“Yeah, they’d never let me hear the end of it. So, I’m attempting to find my way back.”
I stopped at the edge of the building.
I’d gotten to the clubhouse early to help my mom and grandma with food and setting everything up, so when my brother Mick had sent up the tent for me and my other best friend Frankie, it had been a pretty much empty field out back. That was no longer the case. There had to be at least forty tents.
“Shit,” I mumbled, trying to remember where my little blue tent was. It was so dark out that I couldn’t even tell what color any of them were.
“What’s wrong?” Lou asked.
“Can’t find my tent.”
She laughed. “I believe in you. Call me in the morning. I’m going to crash.”
“Fine,” I grumbled good-naturedly. “Love you. Feel better.”
“That’s the plan,” she confirmed. “Love you, too.”
After she’d hung up, I dropped the phone from my ear and ran my gaze over the tents again. There were a couple of guys sitting in lawn chairs, keeping an eye on things. They were passing a joint back and forth, and I squinted, trying to figure out who it was.
There were so many clubs in town visiting—I had no idea why, but I was always down for a party—that there was an entire area in the far field with more tents.
The ones in front of me were only for Aces and their women.
I wasn’t either of those, but I was the grown daughter of a member…
and the granddaughter of one, and the sister of even more of them, so I had a sleeping spot right out the back door.
It would’ve been freaking ideal if I knew which tent was mine.
There were only a couple sleeping bags and backpacks in ours, which should’ve narrowed it down…
but there was no way in hell I was going to start poking around.
That was a good way to see people naked that you never wanted to see naked.
There were only so many rooms inside the clubhouse, and most of the boys had brought tents.
Most of the boys were also related to me in some way.
Looking down, I fumbled with my phone, trying to turn on the little flashlight, when a pair of unfamiliar fingers wrapped around my hips.
I looked at them dumbly for a moment, my mind not quite catching up before lips hit the back of my neck.
“What the fuck?” I snapped, yanking at the hands.
“Just me,” the guy said with a laugh.
Stumbling a step away, I turned on him. He was vaguely familiar. Tall with light hair and a smile I’d clocked earlier in the night.
“You should probably go back inside,” I said with a little shooing motion. I just wanted to find my sleeping bag and crash for the night.
“Right,” he murmured, still chuckling. He reached for me again.
“I’m not kidding,” I insisted, glancing toward the Aces in the lawn chairs. They hadn’t noticed us, and one of the chairs was empty.
“You’ve been dancin’ on me all night,” he said, his hand wrapping around my waist.
Now, I’m not sure if it was the liquid courage racing through my veins—that I was on club property and I’d always been safer there than anywhere else—or the fact that he wasn’t aggressive but just seemed to have a hard time recognizing a brush off, but I wasn’t scared.
Annoyed, yes. Scared, not at all.
“I was dancing with everyone,” I replied, reasonably, I thought, as I yanked on my arm.
“You know that’s not true.” He chuckled as he pulled me closer.
“Not interested, bud,” I said, finally getting to the point. “Find someone else to hook up with.”
“Nah, I want you,” he replied, yanking me the last few steps until I collided with his chest.
“This is not going to go well for you,” I tried again, twisting my arm out of his hand.
“Agree to disagree,” he replied easily.
“Yeah, that’s not how this works,” I snapped, done with his shit.
I’d grown up with a dad that taught me to take no shit, four older brothers, and about a million boy cousins.
So, I’d been wrestling with males since I could walk.
Unfortunately, I was pressed so tightly against him that I didn’t have a lot of room to move as he shifted us toward the wall of the clubhouse.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured, leaning toward me.
“You get your face anywhere near me and I’ll bite the shit out of you,” I warned, pushing at him.
“I could get into that.” He grinned. Jesus, the guy was persistent.
I knew I couldn’t let him get me against the wall, because then I’d be stuck.
Thankfully, he shifted just enough as he was maneuvering us that I could get an arm between us, and that was all I needed.
Reaching down, I ignored his moronic groan of happiness as my hand grazed his belly.
The high sound he made as I grabbed his balls and twisted filled me with satisfaction.
“When a woman says she’s not interested,” I said, taking a quick step back as I let go. “She means it, fuckwad.”
“You cunt,” he breathed. He was bent in half, one of his hands cupping his junk, but he still had the capacity to reach for me, and I could tell by the furious look on his face that he’d changed his mind about how the next few minutes would go.
That was when the fear finally kicked in. A little late, but whatever.
I jerked backward, losing my balance.
As my arms began to pinwheel, very familiar hands wrapped around my waist and set me further away from the asshole. He’d straightened up, but one of his hands was still cupping his junk as he glared.
“You good?” Cian asked quietly.
He’d turned his back completely on the guy, unconcerned.
“I’m fine,” I said, tugging my shirt straight as I glanced over his shoulder. The stranger was still staring at me, like a psycho.
Cian’s eyes roamed over my face for a moment, and he ran a thumb over my cheek before he turned back to the guy.
“Bitch tried to fuckin’ castrate—” Those were the only words that made it out of Dancing Boy’s mouth before Cian’s fist connected with his face.
I watched, flinching as every punch landed with unerring accuracy. It wasn’t even a fight. Cian handed out a well-deserved beating like it was his job. Maybe it was—I wasn’t super clear on his role in the club.
“Cian,” I called, too freaked out to move any closer as the man fell. “Cian, that’s enough.”
My words must’ve penetrated, because the man I’d been circling for the last year lifted both hands in front of him as he took a step back.
“Overstayed your welcome. Soon as you can move, get the fuck off this property,” he said, his voice low as he kicked the guy for good measure. “I see you again, this’ll feel like a fond memory.”
“I was handling it,” I said as Cian stomped angrily back toward me.
“Let’s go,” he growled, lacing his fingers with mine. He tugged me back toward the sleeping area. “Where’s your tent?”
The men who’d been watching the area were nowhere to be seen, but I knew they couldn’t have gone far. If they left their posts, they’d be in deep shit.
“I have no idea,” I replied, stumbling after him. “I was looking for it.”
“Looked like you were hookin’ up with some dipshit from Arizona,” he snapped, yanking at my hand.
“Fuck off,” I hissed, digging my heels in as I twisted my fingers away from his. I glared at the side of his face. “He followed me outside like an asshole.”
“Why the fuck are you outside by yourself?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”
“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” he snapped, leaning forward.
My eyes widened in surprise and everything inside me went quiet. We’d fought before—that happened when you put two stubborn people in close proximity—but he’d never called me names. “You want to repeat that?”
“We’ve got six different clubs on the property. Only half of those are boys we can trust, the others are allies in the absolute fuckin’ loosest sense of the word,” he replied through his teeth, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “And you’re gettin’ hammered and wanderin’ outside alone in the dark.”
“Well, maybe if you guys told me anything, I’d know that I should be steering clear of—”
“Common sense should tell you that.” He cut me off, staring at me in disbelief. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”
“Oh my god,” I ground out. “Fuck you, Cian.”
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he replied sarcastically. “I’m a little tired.”
It was a low blow. My hands curled into fists, and I briefly wondered if I would be able to escape after I punched him.
He jerked to a stop and unzipped the door of a tent. “Get in.”
“This isn’t my tent.”
“Know that,” he replied, gesturing for me to move. “It’s mine.”
“I’m not sleeping in your tent.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’m not gonna spend half the night searchin’ for yours,” he countered.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Get in the tent, Myla.”
“I don’t know any other way to say this, but fuck all the way off, Cian.”
He didn’t even bother to reply before wrestling me into the tent and onto the sleeping bag.