Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

“We’ll keep an eye on things, make sure the Death’s Heads don’t retaliate or try to snatch you or any of the other women again.”

“I doubt Madam Belle will allow a jackal within a hundred yards of The Pole Barn now. If she doesn’t have a magical barrier erected yet to keep them out, she will by breakfast,” she told him lightly, wrapping her arms around her chest in a protective gesture.

Acting on impulse, he curved his free arm around her slender waist and tugged her into the haven of his side. For one brief moment, she resisted before melting against him.

“I got you,” he murmured, his mouth pressed against her forehead. He’d always seen her as strong and feisty. The lost, vulnerable expression he glimpsed on her face was a crack in her tough-act facade.

“Your coffee will get cold,” she whispered, not moving from her position.

Quake smiled. “If Doc made this, it won’t get any worse even if it does.”

Magenta’s soft laughter was music to his ears. “Is it really that bad?”

“Trust me, paint thinner tastes better.”

“I’m glad I didn’t try any then,” she chuckled.

“I’ve got fifteen minutes before someone comes to relieve me. Why don’t you go back inside and see if you can hunt down any wine and chocolate that might be left?” Giving her a little squeeze, he loosened his grip on her waist. “I’ll come find you when I’m off.”

She seemed reluctant to go but stepped away from him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “That might be a difficult challenge, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Quake watched her walk back inside, disappearing into the safety of the interior. He wanted to spend time with her but it would have to wait. His first duty was to ensure that they weren’t attacked.

Fifteen minutes crawled by at a snail’s pace. By the time Wraith came along for the shift change, he was a ball of anxious energy. Hurrying into the house, he searched for Magenta but was unable to find her in any of the rooms. Wondering where the hell she’d gotten to, he found her alone in a back storage room, curled up fully dressed on an inflatable mattress. Half a bottle of wine was beside her with an unopened bar of chocolate.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finding her, Quake shook his head and grimaced. She had to be exhausted but her head injury made it dangerous to sleep. Toeing off his boots, he joined her on the mattress. Her scent enveloped him, reminding him of the last time they’d been this close. The night she’d given herself to him was one he would never forget.

Lying on his side, he wrapped his arm around her waist and nuzzled her hair. “Hey, sleepyhead. You’re not supposed to nod off yet.”

A soft murmur of protest rose from her throat.

“Come on, open your eyes,” Quake crooned. “You hit your head. Two more hours and you can sleep.”

“Tired,” she grumbled, her speech slurred, her voice thick with drowsiness.

Quake pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “I promise I won’t disturb you after you’re past your time, but I need you conscious right now. Come on, duchess. Wake up.”

“Don’t wanna,” she whined. “Tired. So tired. I just wanna go home.”

Quake felt a stab of jealousy strike at his core. Home for her was The Pole Barn. A center stage with spotlights and a numbered room upstairs. Men who watched her. Men who paid for her.

None of them deserved her.

None of them would cherish her like he wanted to.

Sliding his hand beneath her top, he cupped the mound of her breast and felt her nipple harden beneath his hand. Her hips shifted, restless. The air grew thick with the scent of her arousal. Despite everything she’d been through, she was responsive to his touch. Hopefully, remembering what they’d been like together would chase away the specters that haunted her eyes.

She didn’t object when he pushed down her sweatpants. Didn’t say no when he kissed his way from her ankles to her thighs. Instead, she spread them wider in welcome, making room for his shoulders when he settled between her legs.

He tasted her, a long, languorous stroke of his tongue that made her pant and whimper for more. She gasped at the feel of his tongue on her clit, skin to skin with no dental dam to keep them apart. Parting her pussy lips, he made love to her with his mouth, bringing her to the edge of oblivion and fastening his mouth over her to send her hurtling into it. She came with a cry, pussy gushing, wetting his face and the flocked surface beneath her. He lapped up her juices, drinking his fill before reluctantly pulling away.

“Please,” she whispered, still hurting.

Quake shook his head. “It’s too soon, duchess. You need to heal.”

“I need you,” she told him, fingers scrabbling to ease off his cut, revealing the ruined shirt underneath it.

“What the . . . ?” she questioned, poking her hand through one of the holes.

“Bullets. And wings. You know what we are.”

“Gargoyles. I know,” she breathed, dropping her hand to his crotch. “Rock hard and ready for me.”

“Magenta . . .”

“Hush,” she crooned. “I need this. I need you. You can’t deny you want it too.”

God help him, he couldn’t.

He could never say no to her.

13

Rory needed Quake.

She needed him to wipe away the memory of Phantom and Khan. Needed to know that someone valued her for who she was, not what she could do for them. This man saw her. All of her. Not just the outside but what was inside, too.

He’d called her beautiful.

Tears stung her eyes, remembering the sincerity in his gaze, in his voice. He hadn’t been feeding her a line.

He’d meant it. Every word.

She wanted to thank him for that. For being who he was. For seeing her as more than a whore he could hire. Right now, he