Royal Excerpt
Day rides feel different—city smells sharper, asphalt sweating under cloud cover that promises rain. Two prospects—Kent and Ryder—hang back in formation, throttles humming steady. I lead the pack and somehow the bike feels like a heartbeat under me.
We idle up on St. Brigid’s. Red light paints the chrome, and the church looms, all white stone and smug silence. Lilies choke the front steps. I hate that smell—fake joy, fake grief, fake everything.
The doors slam open and a bride bolts.
Not a stumble—she runs, silk gathered in her fists, bare feet pounding down stone steps.
Veil tears off in her hand. She rips it away like it’s strangling her, tosses it into the gutter without slowing.
Dark bob swings free, pins scattering across the pavement.
Suits thunder after her, radios squawking, but she doesn’t even look back. She’s looking at me.
My knuckles grind white on the throttle.
She makes the curb, dress dragging, breath sharp, and then—Jesus Christ—she’s climbing on my bike. No hesitation. The rear shocks dip under her weight. Her hand fists in my cut, the other spread flat against my stomach. She presses in close, heartbeat rattling.
She clutches harder when I lean into the first turn, thighs tight against the seat, chest hot against my back. Her scent cuts through gasoline—soap, fear, something sweet she can’t hide. She moves with me, not like dead weight. She fits. I hate that I notice.
“You got a death wish, doll?” I growl, the wind shredding my voice as we tear down Luther toward the dock. “That your thing?”
Her mouth finds my ear. “You stopping to lecture me or to ride?”
Something ugly and hungry grins inside me. “You keep runnin’ that mouth and see where I put it.”
Told ya to Grab it here since it’s FREE!