Teaser Tuesday: Hatter (Underland MC, #1) by Harley Wylde

HATTER

Underland MC, Book One

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: July 19, 2024

Publisher: ‎Changeling Press LLC

 

Jo: I’d thought Eddie was sweet and charming, until I learned the hard way his smile disguised the devil inside him. He speaks with his fists, and there have been many times I wanted to die. When I finally manage to escape, I vow to do whatever it takes to keep away from Eddie. But stepping out in front of the Underland MC and begging for their help hadn’t been part of my plan. Now that I’m with the Underland MC, I’m not sure if I should trust them, even if their club president does make me feel a bit weak in the knees. Will this be the best decision I ever made, or end up being the one thing that finally kills me?

Hatter: Becoming a civilian after nearly two decades of military service made me feel like I’d fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole, so my brothers and I made the Underland MC. We didn’t have any grand plan. Then Jo came into my life. The more I find out about her ex, the more I realize things are rotten in the town of Warren, TN. This place is my home now, and I not only want to protect Jo, but the townspeople as well. If that means we’re going to war, then so be it. I’ve never backed down from a challenge, and I won’t start now.

 

WARNING: Hatter is a contemporary suspense romance that is intended for readers 18+. It contains bad language, adult situations, and violence. If you’re looking for a light, fluffy romance, this isn’t it.

 

 

Excerpt

 

Hatter

 

“Cheshire, I said no strippers.” I glared at him, my eyes narrowing into slits as I emphasized each word.

“Come on, Hatter. It’s just a bit of fun,” Cheshire retorted, his trademark grin never faltering. He leaned back against the worn chair across from my desk, seemingly unfazed by the intensity of our discussion.

“Cheshire, this event isn’t about fun. We’re raising funds for the local kids’ hospital. A bunch of naked girls shaking their asses doesn’t fit in that picture.” My voice was hard and unyielding, leaving no room for compromise.

“Fine, fine.” Cheshire held up his hands in mock surrender. “No strippers. But we need some kind of entertainment. How about a live band?”

“Band’s fine,” I conceded, rubbing my temples as I felt the beginnings of a headache forming. These club events always gave me migraines, but it was my job to make sure they went smoothly. While we mostly kept to ourselves, at least twice a year we tried to do something for the community.

“All right then.” Cheshire stood and leaned over the desk, bracing his hands on top. “I’ll organize the band and take care of all the other arrangements.”

“Make sure you do.” I stared at him, ensuring my message sank in. “We can’t afford any screwups with this one.”

“Trust me, boss.” Cheshire winked. “Everything will be perfect.”

“See to it.” My tone brooked no argument. As the president of the Underland MC, it was my responsibility to make sure my club stayed out of trouble and maintained a good image in Warren. The town had been good to us, and it was important to give back. All right, so it hadn’t been all sunshine and roses. Not at first. When we’d built this place and moved in, everyone had thought we were criminals and treated us accordingly. We’d worked hard to prove we were trustworthy and wouldn’t destroy Warren.

When we’d first decided to start this club, it had taken weeks to narrow down where we might want to live. It just so happened, the small town of Warren, Tennessee, had the perfect plot of land for sale. Far enough from big cities, we still felt like we were relaxing in the country, but close enough to anything we’d need, like a grocery store or pharmacy.

Absolem had used his inheritance to buy the land, put up a fence, and build a clubhouse. With the exception of times we wanted to make sure we didn’t have people popping up, we’d leave the gates open. It wasn’t like we had anything to hide. Each of us had a room here, and a few more to spare. In addition to the men who’d created this place with me, we’d gathered a few other lost souls along the way, each one floundering after being discharged from the military, just like us. Tweedle had been the first. He’d come home so badly broken I hadn’t known if he’d make it. More than once, I’d worried he might decide to put a bullet in his brain. Thankfully, being around the club had helped him heal, even if he still had a long way to go. Knave and Mock had been next, joining almost at the same time. And Carpenter had been the last.

“All right.” Cheshire clapped his hands together, finally taking things seriously. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Damn right.” I nodded. “And let’s remember why we’re doing this. It’s not just a party. It’s for those kids.”

“Understood.” Cheshire saluted me, his grin returned to his face as he turned to leave. “I won’t let you down.”

“See that you don’t,” I warned, watching him stride out of the room. “Or you’ll be scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush for a month.”

“Promises, promises.” Cheshire laughed from the doorway. “I’ll get on it, Hatter. You can count on me.”

“Good,” I called after him, “because if this event goes south, it isn’t just the club that’ll suffer. The whole damn town will feel it too.”

The event might be adults only, but we’d charge a fee to enter the compound for the night. Everyone would kick back with drinks, food, and music. By the time we closed it down, I hoped we’d have a decent chunk of change to help those kids.

“Understood.” Cheshire nodded once more before disappearing into the hallway. I could only hope he’d take my words to heart.

“All right.” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Let’s get this done.”

The door slammed open, and in walked March, his eyes blazing with urgency. He was all muscle and grit, an imposing figure who had seen more than his fair share of shit. For that matter, we all had.

“Boss,” he said, getting straight to the point. “We’ve got trouble.”

“Spit it out,” I demanded, my pulse racing as worry gnawed at me. This was the last thing the club needed right now. We kept our noses clean, paid taxes, and did our best to not draw attention to ourselves. So what the hell could have happened?

“Rumblings from North Carolina.” March’s voice was low, serious. “A rival MC’s been sniffing around our territory. Looks like they’re planning something. And these assholes aren’t like us. They’re into some nasty shit. If they get their hooks in Warren, this place won’t be the same.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, my mind racing. “How close are they?”

“Too damn close.” March growled. “They’ve been spotted just outside town, and it isn’t a coincidence they picked here.”

“All right,” I said, my brain shifting into high gear. “We need a plan. We can’t let them jeopardize what we got going on here, especially not now.”

“Agreed.” March nodded. “I’ve already put our boys on alert, but we need to be ready for anything.”

“Good,” I said, my thoughts swirling like a tornado. “I want you to gather intel, find out everything you can about their movements, intentions, whatever. The more we know, the better prepared we’ll be.”

“Roger that.” March saluted, his face set like stone. Some old habits were harder to get rid of than others. “I won’t let them get the drop on us.”

“See that you don’t,” I warned. “We’ve worked too hard to let some wannabe tough guys tear us down.”

“Understood.” March gave a mock salute and turned to leave. “I’ll report back as soon as I have something solid.”

“Good,” I called after him. “And keep Cheshire in the loop too. We need to stay united on this one.”

“Will do,” March replied, his steps echoing in the hall as he left.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “Just when things were starting to look up.”

I knew we had our work cut out for us. Our enemies were relentless, and any sign of weakness would be like blood in the water. The club was my family, and there was no way in hell I’d let anyone threaten what we’d built together.

 

 

About the Author

 

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, Patreon, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

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Preorder Blitz: Bear (Grim Road MC, #5) by Marteeka Karland

A Bones MC Romance

Grim Road MC, Book 5

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: July 12, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

Olivia: I’ve been sent to infiltrate Grim Road -- specifically looking for any information to do with the man they call Bear. I didn’t expect to jump into the man’s arms on the first try. I also didn’t expect to feel an illogical sense of belonging and safety when he whispered in my ear, “You’re safe.” My deception will probably get me killed. I’m not a damsel in distress, at least not how they think. But I think Bear knows I’m lying. He just doesn’t seem to care.

Bear: Yeah, I know the girl’s lyin’. I also happen to believe she has a good reason. If I can get her to trust me, then I can make her demons disappear. But trust is hard-earned. Even if I earn hers, can I trust her after she started out with lies? Do I really care if she’s lying as long as she’s mine? Trouble’s following this girl. And it’s headed straight to Grim Road.

 

WARNING: Bear includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations including those that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a protective hero, a determined heroine, and an eventual happy ending. No cheating, as always.

 

EXCERPT

 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland

 

Bear

I hated venturing out into the city. Always made me feel like there was a target on my fucking back. My true identity was buried so deep even facial recognition software couldn’t find me, but since I’d been in my twenties, I’d spent my life running. The government saw to that.

What I thought was a service to help my country turned into a killing spree on the order of genocide. I’d disobeyed my orders but ended up on a Terminate with Extreme Prejudice list. Rocket, the closest person I had to a friend, had brought me to Riviera Beach, Florida, where I’d taken up with the motorcycle club, Grim Road. The club’s history was long and distinguished in hiding men like me. I’d been here ever since.

It was nearly midnight on a Saturday. The streets weren’t exactly teaming, but several bars were open, which was where most people were this time of night. Some headed home. Others milled about enjoying the evening air. It wasn’t cool by any means, but the night brought in a breeze from the ocean that wasn’t stifled by the heat of the sun during the day. This was my favorite part of the night.

“You lookin’ for somethin’ in particular or just wishin’ you could go back and change your life choices?” Ringo, our enforcer, sidled up next to me, handing me a beer.

“Thanks,” I said as I popped the top and took a long swig. “Just thinkin’. Ain’t much for bein’ out of the compound.”

“Oh, I know. Which is why I followed.” The other man gave me a half smirk, half smile.

“Right. That, and Lemon probably told you to have my back.”

He chuckled. “Little witch is certainly big on that kinda shit. But no. You’ll be happy to know I did this all on my own.”

I gave him a side eye. “Really. You tryin’ to keep me honest? Afraid I’m out to betray the club?”

Instantly, Ringo’s whole demeanor changed. “Hey, now. Jumping to conclusions there, Bear?” Ringo raised an eyebrow. “Of all the men in this club, you’d be the last one I’d accuse of betraying the club or anyone in it. Fully expected Rocket to make you his VP. I’d have supported that.”

I snorted. “No way in fuckin’ hell I want that job. Besides, Lemon is much better suited.”

“Ain’t sayin’ she’s not. Just sayin’ I was surprised when Rocket didn’t put your name in the hat for the job long before Lemon came on the scene.”

The two of us headed down the sidewalk. Kind of felt like we were patrolling the area. There were several bars and clubs here, and some of them weren’t altogether safe. A couple times a week, I’d taken to walking up and down the strip. I wouldn’t say I was looking for trouble, but I wasn’t opposed to stopping trouble if it found me. The self-imposed job got me out of the compound as well as extended some measure of protection to the community which pleased the VP to no end. I wouldn’t exactly call the city our community, but I got the impression that’s what Lemon wanted it to be. Crush and Byte worked continually to strengthen all our identity covers. Rocket wasn’t opposed, so I took this as my due diligence. I was doing my part, however quietly, to set an example to the other members. It’s how I did things.

“He offered.” I shrugged. “Not my thing.”

“Oh, really.” The bastard smirked and I wanted to beat the shit outta him, but restrained myself. Barely. “Was that before or after you corralled us all and put the idea of voting Lemon in as VP, or after?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna do it. Someone had to, and she was the best choice. You look me in the eye and tell me who else in Grim would be doing a better job than Lemon, and I’ll volunteer that bastard.”

Ringo chuckled. “Right. I’ll get on that. But you have to promise you’ll be the one to break the news to Lemon.”

I snorted. “Not on your fuckin’ life. Girl might be small and young, but she’s vicious like no man I’ve ever met. You tell her your own Goddamn self.”

We stared at each other a moment before Ringo’s lips twitched. Once that happened, we both broke down into chuckles. Neither of us would be suggesting a replacement for Lemon.

The conversation eased something inside me. Like I knew Ringo had my back or something where always before I’d kind of felt like I was on my own in the middle of a crowd. Yeah, I knew if I were really in trouble, outside of a mission, I could count on my brothers. Always had. But it was different now.

“Thanks, man. I think I needed that.”

“For what? The reminder that a little five-foot-nothing girl is making a better vice president than you?”

I snorted. “No, dumbass. The laugh.”

Ringo grinned. “Wait till I tell Lemon you were wanting to replace her.”

“Whoa. Not cool, bro. Besides, it was you who brought it up. And I will totally throw you under the bus if you start that bullshit.”

God, it felt good to banter with Ringo. I’d had that kind of atmosphere a couple of times on jobs for the CIA, but it was never as relaxed as it was now.

I took a deep breath and rolled my head on my shoulders, easing some of the tension that always seemed to be there when I ventured too far from the compound. It wasn’t that I was scared. It was more like I felt like someone was watching. Just waiting to make a move.

I could handle myself in an ambush. Fuck knew I’d been in that situation before and had come out on the other side. Worse for wear maybe, but the other guys fared far, far worse. Always.

Ringo snorted. “Glad to be of service, brother.”

We continued down the street. The sound of people partying or generally having a good time filled the night. Each time we passed a bar, the scent of alcohol hit us. Occasionally someone would be smoking a joint or a cigarette and those scents would blend in as well. Passing a strip joint brought the cheap perfume into the mix.

I was about to suggest we go inside one of the strip clubs, just to pass the time with something different when I spotted a woman making her way down the sidewalk. Something about the way she moved was just that little bit off. She glanced behind her, then straight ahead. She hesitated, then continued moving.

“What’s goin’ on there?” I asked the question more to myself than to Ringo, but the other man zeroed in on the woman immediately.

“Not sure. Could be she’s just lost.”

“Right,” I agreed, though I wasn’t so sure. Something about her posture wasn’t right. “Could be.”

“Uh-huh.”

We both continued forward but at a slower pace. Grim Road MC wasn’t a secret club, per se. The club was known to the locals, just not where the clubhouse was or who any of us were beyond our road names. To everyone around us, we were simply another motorcycle club in the area around Palm Beach. As such, we wore our colors proudly. So, when the girl got closer to us, and we slowed down, we wanted her to know what we were.

I stopped while Ringo turned slowly around in a circle with his hands out, letting her see the emblem on the back of his vest proclaiming him a member of Grim Road.

She let loose a little sob and ran the rest of the way to us. To my complete and utter shock, instead of stopping when she reached us, the girl threw herself into my arms, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.

And I’ll be Goddamned if my whole body didn’t come alive. Lust I’d never even dreamed about punched me in the dick before sucking me into its mouth and making me hard as a fucking pole. The scent of her was like something out of a dream. Fresh spring flowers and a dash of cinnamon. She was slender, but I could feel every single one of her slight curves against my big body. She was so small I could easily wrap my arms all the way around her with room to spare. Unfortunately, instead of moaning and finding my mouth with hers, she trembled in my arms. I didn’t think it was from desire. Her mouth at my ear was a sinful promise. Until she spoke.

“Angela,” she whimpered. “I need Angela.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said loudly. “Missed you, too.” I chuckled, swinging her around happily. What I was really doing was putting my body between her and the two men I now saw following her.

I didn’t acknowledge the men. Instead, I strode down the sidewalk with her still in my arms. Ringo had my back. If he couldn’t discourage the guys, I could get her far enough away she could get inside to the relative safety of a bar or club. Then, I’d help Ringo help these motherfuckers have themselves an accident.

When I rounded the corner with her, I set her on her feet, but kept hold of her hand. Everything inside me rebelled at the separation. I wanted to pull her solidly against me again but needed to make sure I had one hand free if Ringo needed me. Stepping from behind the wall, I eyed Ringo. He stood where I’d left him, but the men were already gone. Ringo took slow looks around the area as he backed toward me. I gave a low whistle, and Ringo turned and hurried in my direction.

“Get to the bikes.” Ringo’s order was delivered in a crisp voice. “They didn’t keep following after you picked her up. You spoke and they backed off. Still don’t want to take a chance.”

“To Knox’s place?” I knew we couldn’t take her to the compound. Not without precautions. If the guys had truly backed off, she wasn’t in immediate danger. If they hadn’t, we’d reevaluate when we spotted them.

Ringo nodded. “I’ll be on your six. Just gonna let Rocket know what’s goin’ on and that we’ll call him when we know more.”

I grunted, but tugged her with me and hurried to my bike.

 

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

 

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

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Preorder Blitz: Kit-Kat (Maw of Mayhem MC, #3) by A.K. Nevermore

KIT-KAT

A Maw of Mayhem MC Novel

by

A.K. Nevermore

Paranormal, Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: May 31, 2024

Grimdarke James’ problems have gone from bad to worse. Ousted from his MC and on the run, all he wants is to keep Kit safe while he sets things right. But calling in a favor drops more than trouble into his lap.

As he tries to salvage what’s left of the Maw of Mayhem, forces close in on them and tensions rise. New allies are found and old loyalties are put to the test. So is Grim’s relationship with Kit when someone from his past tries to come between them.

Kit doesn’t share and the threat to her position as Grim’s mate raises her hackles. With her heat triggered, she’s running on instinct and battle lines are drawn. Can Grim win back his MC, and prove he’s the man for her, or will he lose it all?

  

EXCERPT

Grim stalked out of the break room, riffling his hair. How the fuck had everything gone to shit so fast? He blew the messy locks from his face and frowned, glancing around the garage --

And did a double take at the trio of bikes by the bay door. Brick and Wrench’s hogs, and Grim’s Bobber. How had that made it out of the city? Holy -- He stumbled over to them, not quite believing his bike was really there. One of the crew must’ve ridden it out of the garage before the club blew, which meant Stitch had left his down there.

Christ, he’d abandoned his own bike to snag the Bobber? A lump gummed up Grim’s throat. You only did that kind of shit for your alpha.

He swallowed, gritting his teeth and hating himself. How much of this clusterfuck could he have avoided if he’d just sucked it the fuck up and owned the position after Clay’s murder?

Guess he’d never know.

Grim blinked, his eyes hot. Fingers trailing down the leather seat. Listening to the click and ping of the engine cooling. Avoiding the rest of the crew packing up. He frowned, guilt eating at him, his stomach a fucking mess. Staring at the bathroom door, willing it to open.

For Kit to come out on two legs.

Come on, baby… Hands down, she was his priority, but Jesus fuck, the rest of the crew depended on him, too, and they all needed to get gone. Clay’s refusal to take a mate abruptly made more sense than Grim wanted it to. Some part of that equation was gonna get fucked, and he’d be damned if it was gonna be Kit unless she was squarely on his dick.

Kat say anything else to you? he asked his cat.

-- no. fighting with Kit --

Grim grunted, the angst of having to choose between his mate and his club landing a gut punch of shame. Christ, he knew what that was like. Being at odds with your beast. The terror of feeling trapped inside yourself, of sinking down so fucking deep you didn’t know if you could come back.

[CHAGRIN]

-- different --

Same, Grim snapped. Shit was close enough, less the cuffs. He rubbed at the scars on his wrists, the lines of ink blurred and broken. The memory of the snick of silver setting his teeth on edge. That creeping, seeping burn infecting his veins with its poison.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. Yeah, he knew how it felt, and granted, he wasn’t keeping her there, but he’d sent Kit on that downward spiral by pushing her to change. Jesus, he was a piece of shit. A sad laugh slid from his lips.

But fuck, that’s what everyone thought anyway, wasn’t it? The media, the rest of Mayhem… Mama Roe sure as hell did, and he was about to go kiss her fucking --

Grim’s breath caught as the bathroom door swung open and Kit strode out, looking classy as fuck and like the last person he should be with. Triss dropped the crap she was packing into the cage’s trunk and ran over to hug her.

Christ, he wanted to do the same… but, damn. Grim wet his lips. Kit wasn’t… Damn. She was wearing that soft sweater he’d snagged from the vamp queen’s trophy closet. Shit was fucking sinful the way it hung off her shoulders and clung to her tits. The jeans she’d been so crazy about did the same to her hips, a sliver of her flat stomach flashing as she raised her arms to hug the girl back. And when Triss skipped away, and Kit turned toward the cages?

Woman was a fucking goddess.

Grim bit back a groan at the way her long black hair dusted her ass as she bent to put her bag in the trunk. She looked like a million fucking bucks, which was easily nine hundred ninety-nine thousand and change above his pay grade.

-- ours --

The pang in Grim’s chest echoed the truth of that statement. Maybe he didn’t deserve her now, but he’d fucking bust his ass until he did. If she still wants us. His throat bobbed at the possibility she wouldn’t after what he’d done to her.

-- asked to shift --

Yeah, but the idea of being a shifter versus the reality of it were two very different things, and Grim’d only known Kit for a hot fucking minute. When they’d met, she’d been so damned adamant she didn’t want to change.

-- Reaper decided for her --

Grim’s knuckles whitened. And he’s gonna die for it. Darke chuffed in agreement.

A growl welled up in Grim’s throat, his eyes narrowing.

Asorav had ended his call and wrapped his hand around Kit’s arm, pulling her off to the side. He spoke to her adamantly in hushed tones in the next bay.

-- listen? --

Yeah. Grim stepped back into the shadows, his hearing sharpening.

Kit was smiling up at the vamp like he’d caught her at something. She was trying to play it off as he was talking. “…understand the temptation to eavesdrop on one’s elders, but strongly suggest you resist the urge.” Asorav looped her arm through his, and a muscle in Grim’s jaw twitched at the asshole’s familiarity with her.

-- known her longer --

Don’t remind me, Grim muttered. He still couldn’t believe Kit had been the Darkling’s dog walker.

“There are those that do not take kindly to such invasions of privacy,” the vamp scolded.

Kit’s eyes widened, her pupils waffling --

Grim did a double take. Shit, did I really see that? Aside from the mirror, he’d never seen anyone else’s flip between theirs and their beast’s.

-- did. Kat’s scared. Won’t talk --

He bit back a growl. Was that fucking right?

“Which is why you’re only getting a warning.” The vamp patted her hand like some kind of benevolent fucking uncle. Grim’s lip curled, knowing that grift all too well. He was gonna beat the shit outta --

“Vampires really can read minds?” Kit squeaked. “I thought --”

Wait, what? Grim froze.

“Yes and no,” Asorav said. “Your compatriots’ thoughts are closed to me, but it seems you and I share an affinity.” The asshole chuckled. “Yes, it surprised me as well. However, after Cecelia --”

“I want to know what you meant when you said she was elsewhere.”

Asorav sighed, and Grim had to smirk at Kit’s indignation over the MIA Pomeranian. “I don’t totally understand it,” the vamp said, “but I believe she’s trapped somewhere between. It’s… the place one goes to get from here to there. I’m afraid I can’t explain it any better than that. She wasn’t strong enough to anchor my form at this end, and when I pulled, she was sucked in.”

Well, that sounded like total bullshit, but Grim supposed the prick couldn’t admit to killing the thing. In either case, Kit sounded like she bought it.

“Because she was your heart. Aryanna told me you were a day-walker.”

“Did she now.”

Grim scratched his stubble, wondering how much of an issue that was gonna be. Vampires were enough of a pain in the ass at night. One lurking around 24/7 didn’t exactly give him the warm fuzzies, but then again, this conversation didn’t either.

“… mentioned you couldn’t be, um, de-animated, without your heart.” Kit said, rubbing her arms like she was cold. “Don’t worry, she’s not around anymore to note it in the queen’s memoir.”

Asorav laughed, and Grim wanted to smash his fist through the vamp’s fangs. “How delightful. I never could understand how Aryanna abided that vitriolic shrew. I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to see it, but suppose that’s neither here nor there, and you, my dear, most certainly are. She told you, then, of my Maker’s triumph?”

Kit nodded like she was humoring him. Grim rolled his eyes. Fucking vamps had sticks shoved up their asses almost as far as the witches. Christ, they were pretentious fucks.

“It’s a metaphor, you know,” Asorav said. “She wasn’t my heart; she had my heart. The spell transformed the physical organ and created a bridge, tying our life forces to those we held dearest. It was genius, really. Love is such a fickle thing, and given a vampire’s lifespan, in most cases, transfers quite organically before the object of our affection dies… or is lost, in this case.”

He pulled a wide, platinum bracelet from his pocket, studded with what Grim was positive were diamonds, and closed Kit’s fingers around it. The fuck? “And it seems once again, my heart has been captured by another. I assure you, I am aware this is most inconvenient, but, as I said, the heart wants what the heart wants, now, doesn’t it?”

Grim bared his teeth, knuckles white as he clenched his fists. Had that motherfucker just given Kit a fucking king’s ransom in jewelry and told her he loved her?

-- no, his heart --

I don’t give a fuck, she’s MINE.

 

About the Author

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks. Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. AK pays the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.

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