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Even with several feet between us, the powerful aura around them screams danger.
Their tall stature dwarfs my five-three frame.
Riot and Rage are handsome, and rugged. Dressed in jeans and T-shirts I’ll be the first to admit they make looking badass appear easy. It’s just part of their nature, I guess. Same as Hark.
Both men are hitting close to forty if I had a guess and make the biker life look sexy. Scruff covers Rage’s jawline but it’s his eyes that captivate me more than his hard muscles and flirty smile.
He’s been through a hard life. Harder than most, I’d say.
Riot is cut from the same cloth as Rage in the looks department. Mountain-man rugged. I bet him on his bike makes the panties drop.
I wonder if he and Hark share hair tips. Both seem to prefer their long hairstyles. Riot’s is pinned at the base of his head in a messy man-bun. Not a look I like on a man, but he makes it work.
“Thank you for saving the bastard’s life.” The one named Rage takes my hand between his two callused ones and squeezes with appreciation. Riot follows suit before both step back giving Ares the floor.
“Yeah, not sure he’d be in this situation if it wasn’t for me.”
The one named Ares pins me with steel gray eyes. Ghost stands back watchful even if his stance says calm and cool.
“Why do you say that, Asena Titan?”
Yep. Russian—soft vowels, broad intonation. So are Rage and Ghost. Did they grow up together?
My gaze latches onto Ares who stands with his arms over a board chest. White cotton defines all the hard muscles he sports beneath all that material.
“How do you know my name?”
His smile is soft and I get the distinct picture it’s not something he does often. “Don’t look so surprised. I make it my business to know my enemies.”
I take a step back but I’m literally up against a wall and he’s blocking the one exit.
“Don’t worry you are in no danger here. I don’t kill the daughters of rivals. Usually.”
I can’t tell if that smirk is real or not.
“Good, because you and I would have a problem if that happened.”
I look around Ares to see Hark lock eyes with his friend. Despite being three bed lengths away, Hark’s hearing is superhero grade.
The large Russian bats his friend’s comment away like I would a pesky fly.
“He’s grumpy when he’s in pain. Never mind him.”
There’s more behind Hark’s scowl than the physical pain Ares is talking about, but I’m focused on making sure this guy has no reason to think of me as an enemy. Truth be told, I’m not sure if I should feel freaked out or relieved that Ares is aware of my family.
I pull on my years of living in a house of vipers and tread carefully. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir. You know my name and I know yours, true, but why are we enemies?”
“Da, the Titans and the Savages have been on opposite sides for a few years now. He’s gotten hungry for power and money. And the only way to get either is to take it from someone else. I’m not a giving person, Asena.”
Ah. I wonder what my father tried to take from him. But that is a bigger conversation than I have time for.
“Small world, huh.”
He grunts. “Small city. He’s told me of the past you two share.”
Crap. Did everyone know?
“Is your father the reason why Hark is shot?” Ares takes my chin in his hand surveying my mad hair before checking out my damaged wedding dress.
