I want to cry out hearing him. The feeling is too strong, too addictive. Instead, I find myself turning my head until my lips meet his. It takes him two thrusts to make me come with a scream. My thoughts swirl when he kisses my scars, making me tingle. Gentle pecks on the burning skin, my cheek, and my arms.

  He starts to create havoc in me.

  And he doesn’t stop until he spills his release into me. “Fuck! Fuck!”

  When we stop, unlike every time, I feel. I feel everything. I don’t see the ghost; hell, his name doesn’t even bring a flinch in me.

  “You once told me to hate you.” I pause, pondering the words. I don’t know if that will make him angry, but still, I ask. “Do you still think so?”

  He stiffens, but surprisingly, his voice doesn’t match his body’s reaction. “Yes. I still think so.”

  “Why?” I’m not insulted. I’m merely curious.

  “Because I can’t promise you anything other than myself. And I hate me. The things I’ve done…what he made me do, it fuckin’ changed me.” He has a twisted look in his eyes. The same old Lethal. But strangely, I want him all the same. “And most of all…I’m insane. I don’t even know what trouble I’m going to create next. I’m going to do hella mistakes. I might even risk us in the long run, so I don’t want you to expect too much from me.”

  “And I don’t. I don’t expect anything other than you. This is enough for me,” I murmur, touching his nose. He has got it broken in one of the fights, and yet he wears the scars like a medal. Unlike me, he embraced his scars.

  Maybe it’s time I embrace mine.

  “Good.” His eyes drift down at me. “Hate me, loathe me, but let me in.”

  The words bring a smile to my lips. And after a long time, I think I’m happy. He holds me tightly, and when I blink, the world around me doesn’t disappear. I’m still here in his embrace.

  I’m still…Vixen.

  And I think I like it more than Jade. More than Grace, even.

  After all, only a Vixen can be Lethal’s.

  EPILOGUE

  LETHAL

  2 months later

  “Why the fuck is it takin’ so much time?” Reaper asks Foxy, a scowl present on his face. Scar looks at us once, but as always, he doesn’t say a word. When I jerk my chin toward him, wordlessly, he passes me a drink.

  Foxy glares right back while gulping her beer. “Well, you dick. Sniper isn’t here yet. And Vixen wouldn’t start the ceremony without her sister being present.”

  Reaper’s eyes find mine as soon as Foxy finishes. He has a frown on his face, but I’m too smart not to ask why. “And you, Prez, you know once she is officially a Devil, she will be available for anyone to claim, right? Unless you have somethin’ to say about that.”

  “Hmm,” I hum, taking another sip. “I know.”

  “And? You don’t care?” His frown deepens.

  Before I can entertain his question, another man crashes our little party. I don’t know the reason for him being in here, but I’m pretty sure it’s not for a good one, considering the fact that for the last three months, he has been missing.

  “Lethal.” He nods, glancing at me before stealing a bottle from the bar. Scar has his guard up, his hands already on his waistband where I know there’s a gun hiding, but when I shake my head, he removes his hands.

  “What the fuck are you doin’ here, Xavier? And don’t tell me it’s because you fuckin’ missed me. We both know that’s not true.” He chuckles, but the fucker doesn’t even see the way Foxy squirms. She looks at me for a second before storming off.

  “I was thinking of something. I was planning…asking for money, tracking down some people…” He stumbles over his words. He’s already grieving too much to understand that Reaper has his gun out and aimed at him. “I want to be in the game. Together we can do that, Lethal. We can make a new club.”

  “Oh, really? What makes you think that?” I ask, fingering my own gun. Reaper wasn’t kidding when he said that Xavier has finally lost his goddamn mind. Three months ago, I called him to take care of Maddox. I also notified him about Maddox being his wife’s killer. Let’s just say, I didn’t find Maddox as a human when I came to collect his body. After that, he vanished. No last taunting call, no message.

  Just gone.

  “Oh, come on! You fucking know it, bastard! My club is gone, my partners disappeared, and half of my men are in police custody waiting for a life sentence. Of course, only the Devil’s Shadow is still active.” Then I see desperation in his eyes I have never seen before. It reminds me of another fucker I wish never existed. Hell, I think if I ask, he will fall at my feet to get what he wants. He slams the empty bottle on the countertop. “I want that, Lethal. For old time’s sake.”

  I want to tell him to fuck off. But right now, my jaw clenches when I see Sniper entering the bar alongside Gwen. She has her arms around Sniper, and they are arguing about something. When Sniper sees what’s going on, he stops abruptly. Giving me a sharp look, he’s already leaving the bar, hiding Vixen’s sister in tow.

  “Shit!” Only when I hear Reaper curse do I look at the mess. Xavier has already passed out on the floor. His face is red, knuckles bloody, which I failed to notice. Sighing, I call for someone to get him ready to transfer. I know when he wakes up he is going to be fucking disappointed to find himself out of Southside. I also know what he needs. And that’s not the Devils. He’s never going to be satisfied with only being a partner. The fucker is too greedy to be bound by rules. And who knows if he ends up becoming the very man he hates? The one all the MCs whisper about in the night but no one dares to say the name in daylight.

  The ghost inside our heads.

  So Xavier can make his own goddamn club outside of this town. Outside of our lives.

  With that, I ask for another drink. I’m going to fucking need it if I want to keep myself from Vixen until the ceremony is done. Until I’m inside her, until I’m in fucking ecstasy. But until then, the least I can do for her is let her be. Because between the two of us, my woman deserves this day this most.

  ***

  GRACE

  “Fuck! Keep still, will ya?” Foxy scolds me, but I can’t stop the hiss that comes from me when she digs deeper. The needle in her hand doesn’t stop, though. It only stops when the tattoo is complete.

  The redness of the skin glints in the harsh light. But I can clearly see the rising wolf with the name Vixen written on it. She dabs a bandage over it, huffing again while I look at the other tat on my wrist where the letters D.S. are tattooed for eternity.

  “You are pissed for some reason. Want to share what it’s about?” The moment my words are out, she starts firing curses.

  “That fucker has the guts to show his face in here! After three fuckin’ months of lookin’ for his useless self and now he’s here,” she snarls, but I don’t see the hopeful look I saw in her eyes a few weeks ago when Reaper called saying he might have seen Xavier in a bar in New York getting drunk.

  “And you are not happy.” It’s not a question. It’s a fact that she doesn’t disagree with me. “Why?”

  She clenches her fists and shakes her head. “Because I gave up. I thought after…after taking revenge, he might come back, you know. But the fucker fled. And now I’m too tired to wait for him. I thought he might have ended up dead in a fight. Or maybe someone threw him off a cliff. And I was fine with it. Surprisingly, I was even moving on. Then he had to come in here unannounced to give Prez an idea to make a new club. Like always, the club comes first for him. Not me, not anyone else.”

  It feels like deja vu when she speaks. And oddly, I agree with her. When someone is dead, it’s easier to move on. But, unfortunately, her nightmare has come back.

  “Now what are you gonna do? And what about that girl?”

  “What girl?” she asks, faking curiosity.

  I can feel myself smile. “The girl you were attached to last night. The one you took to your room after the party.”

  “It was nothing.” She brushes off my question but answers with a grin. “You know I’m bisexual, right?”

  Before I can tease her more, the door opens. At first, Seth enters, but my eyes are on my sister. My beautiful little sister. She looks better than the last time I saw her. After the surgery, she can walk, but sometimes she still needs help. And I’m surprised to find that help in Seth.

  “Prez wants you in ten minutes. Don’t be late, okay?” Seth says, making me laugh. He talks to me, but I can see his eyes on my sister the whole time. Her eyes are downcast, giving me the idea that she knows who is staring at her. I could recognize that look from anywhere.

  And for some odd reason, I’m okay with that.

  “Gwen?” Hearing me, she looks up, and I’m happy to see a hint of a smile on her lips. Seth helps her sit on my bed then excuses himself to get ready for the ceremony.

  “How are you?” I ask softly.

  She shrugs. “Fine.”

  Leon wasn’t lying when he said that she would talk. She would walk again. She would be my talkative little sister again.

  “How’s living with Sniper? I heard he can be a pain in the ass. Literally,” Foxy says suddenly, to which my sister whips around to meet her eyes. I see her tremble for a moment, but the next minute, she’s silent. Hell…she’s got the wrong idea.

  “Hey.” I’m quick to stop her mind from running away. “She was joking. Weren’t you?”

  I’m not a fool to believe that Seth hasn’t slept with any of the Devils. Maybe he even slept with Foxy at some point, but Gwen doesn’t have to know that. After Josh, she shut herself off, but somehow, Seth is getting her out of her nightmare. And he’s too busy looking after my sister to even be looking at another woman. So I shake my head when Foxy starts to protest.

  “Yeah, yeah. I was just kidding! You know I love to do that. Yeah,” Foxy awkwardly finishes with another grin. I know what’s going on in her head, but for all our sakes, we drop the rising questions and keep in touch to the safe ones like how she is, how the therapy is going, and if she is finally ready to move in the clubhouse permanently.

  “Hey! I said ten minutes! Lethal is getting pissed. He’s in Prez mode. Come on, you three,” Seth warns again, already walking toward Gwen to help her. Giving them time to join us, I start walking toward the same basement where I had the fight to the death. That seems like so long ago.

  When we reach the arena, Lethal is already there waiting for me. He has a scowl on his face that vanishes the moment he sees me. He doesn’t give me a smile, but I can see a smirk when I walk up to him.

  “What took you so long?” he whispers in my ear. His breath tickles, making me shudder, but I have to wait for a bit to feel him again. I chant that in my head before forcing my eyes to find his.

  “I was getting ready for this.” I show him the tattoo. It’s still red and hot to touch, but just for this ceremony, I’ve ripped the bandage open. He watches the tattoo for a second before he nods, satisfied.

  “It looks good on you,” he says absentmindedly while softly rubbing the tattoo as the arena fills with other Devils. I watch all the people looking excited to welcome me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Foxy walking toward us with a bag.

  “You ready?” she asks once she is beside me.

  “As ready I will ever be,” I answer honestly.

  I give Lethal a signal to start, and he does. At first, we revise the vows again. This time, I’ve memorized every one of them. This time, they mean something. They hold my future as I repeat them after Lethal.

  A part of me doesn’t know what to say when he says the next words. Another part of me howls at everyone with a sick claim as they all kneel to the ground in respect. But either way, I’m already giving in to him.

  “And now I give you your Vice President of Devil’s Shadow, Vixen! Let’s welcome her, brothers and sisters!”

  Everyone is shouting. I don’t know or care why. Maybe they are happy with this sudden news, or maybe they are disappointed to see Lethal officially claiming a woman. But I don’t have to think anymore when Foxy opens the bag, unfolding the cut. I see my name on the back of the cut. I also see a patch of vice president alongside that.

  “Arms up,” Lethal commands, taking the cut and helping me wear that. Everyone is congratulating me, but I’m already in his embrace.

  I can’t help but grin when he takes my mouth in front of everyone. He’s consuming my soul and sanity like every time when I hear him say, “Let’s give them a show, baby girl.”

  And so for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid to be owned. I’m ecstatic. I’m fucking happy. I’m flying in the hope of a new life.

  I’m Vixen.

  The End

  About the Author

  K.H Kate is a University student, occasional painter and author of Contemporary and Paranormal romance books. She loves to venture into the world of action, dark romance, give happy endings with a little bit of tragedy and paint a world full of raw emotions. Born and raised AS A DREAMER, she has been writing for four years. She started writing to give life to her imaginary characters until they become stories themselves.

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  THE PREACHER’S

  DAUGHTER

  Rough Riders MC #1

  By Shelly Morgan

  Chapter One

  Angelica

  All my life, I’ve only ever been known as one thing—the preacher’s daughter. It’s like nothing else about me mattered, only who my father was.

  I’ve spent my whole life trying to break out of that title and to be noticed as something else—anything else. I would have settled for the girl who got good grades, the girl who danced well, or even the girl who slept around. Not like that last one was true, but I would have been happy to carry that title because it was a heck of a lot better than who I was now. At least that girl would have been known for doing something.

  But no matter how hard I tried, nothing would stick. And now, graduation is only a week away. I would be leaving high school and going off to college. Heck, maybe then I’d be able to break away from my parents and live the life I wanted. That is, if I can actually pull off going to the college of my choice and not the school of my parents’ choosing.

  Ever since I can remember, my parents said I would go to a Christian college. Olivet Nazarene University, to be exact. It’s only a half an hour away from home, which they think would be perfect for me. Not only because it’s the school my mother went to, or the fact that it’s a female-only college. But also because I wouldn’t have to live in the dorms. They say they want me to continue to live under their roof because then I wouldn’t have to worry about bills or anything else; I could just focus on my studies. But I know that’s not the real reason. They just don’t want to risk me doing something that would shame them or blemish our family name.

  But I want to live on campus. Isn’t that a big part of the college experience? Being on your own for the first time? I don’t even like living with my parents now, so why would I want to after high school?

  For a while, I thought maybe I could do it. It would only be for a few more years, and it’s not like they could keep me from making friends and going out. I mean, I am an adult now. Even with it being an all-girl school, I could still go out after classes with friends and meet other people. Boys even. My parents would never know.

  But then they had to make things even worse by picking my major for me—Early Childhood Development. I mean, come on, what a joke! It’s basically a glorified title for a daycare worker. Like someone needs to get a degree to learn how to create a lesson plan for teaching kids their colors and the alphabet.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against anyone who wants to go into that career field, but it’s just not for me. I don’t even really like kids, so why would I want to spend every day with them?

  There was no use arguing or even trying to bargain with them, though. It wouldn’t do any good and I would only be wasting my breath, so I just didn’t say anything at all. I hoped maybe they would come to their senses if I could prove to them I could live on my own and not disgrace them. I even thought if I could get a job and do well in my studies that they would see being a teacher wasn’t for me.

  That hope was thrown out the window the day I got an acceptance letter in the mail for Olivet and a letter stating that the balance for my first year was already paid in full. I never even applied to the dang school, so how was I getting an acceptance letter? But I knew the answer to that. My parents did it all.

  I was pissed they went behind my back. Isn’t it against the law to fill out an application for someone else? Didn’t I need to sign the damn thing to make it legit? They probably just forged my signature because they knew I wouldn’t sign it myself.

  After that, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get through to them. But I was not going to attend that school. Come hell or high water, it wasn’t going to happen. I just had to find the right time to inform them of it.

  I’ve been living my whole life for them. They tell me what to wear, how to speak, and how to act. Where I can go and who I can hang out with. I’ve always complied, even though I hate doing so. But it’s time to cut the cord and leave the coop. I’m done.

  No more will I allow my mother to pick out my clothes, which are usually plain, ugly dresses. After graduation, I’ll wear whatever I want—colorful, short dresses I see all the other girls wearing. Or even a plain pair of blue jeans with a t-shirt. That would be nice.