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Inciting Carnage is a bonus novelette in the Black Shamrocks MC (Australia) series. It tells one of the events from Craving Control from the main protagonists’ point-of-view. It’s not a spoiler as such, as this tale merely adds context and answers readers’ demands for more of Zeke and Lily’s side of the story.
Please note that this story is set in Australia and is written in UK English.
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” ~Albus Dumbledore~
PROLOGUE
LILY
Age: fifteen
I duck my nose inside the leather jacket I’m wearing and inhale Zeke’s scent. The amber and spice that clings to the material is pure man, and it makes my skin tingle and a visible shiver runs the length of my spine. This reaction may seem strange to anyone who doesn’t know me, yet for as long as I can remember, I’ve been affected by scents. It’s at the point where my family barely comments on it anymore. They know that my recollections are consolidated—for good and bad—by the fragrance in the air at the time, and my memory is jogged whenever I encounter that same aroma afterward.
To say that Zeke’s Tom Ford cologne is my favourite scent in the world would be an understatement. For me, there’s nothing better. Not even a sniff of my dead mum’s perfume evokes the same response within me.
Sad but true.
I’d be ashamed, except I know she loved Zeke as much as I do.
Albeit in a much different way.
What was once platonic has morphed into something more…
I’m irrevocably, irrepressibly, immeasurably in love with the most dangerous enforcer in the Black Shamrocks MC. Which would be all well and good if he wasn’t seven years older than me, fiercely committed to his manwhore lifestyle, and adamant in his refusal to see me as anything more than his VP’s only daughter and main target for his overprotective tendencies.
“Now, I want ya to hold on tight, like usual,” Zeke tells me. He grabs my left wrist and drags my arm around his waist, then repeats the movement with my right arm. “Only this time, you needa watch what I’m doin’ with my hands and my feet… ’cos you’re gonna give it a go today.” Nodding seriously, he adds. “Don’t care if it takes all fuckin’ day, I’m not takin’ you home until you can ride as well as Sander.”
“Thank you.” Although I squeeze him tight to show my appreciation, I resist the urge to snuggle into his back like I used to when I was younger because I’m not sure how he’ll respond to the feel of my boobs pressed against him. After his overly solicitous reaction to my twin brother’s announcement that I was laid up with period cramps the last time Zeke came to visit us in Inadale, I imagine that he’ll try to dress me in a padded jacket designed specifically to protect my delicate femininity.
Where once he offered me Panadol and a “come on, it can’t be that bad,” comment to any ailment that befell me, as soon as he learnt that I had my period Zeke started fussing over me like I was dying. He plied me with hot tea, a heat pack, and he rode into town to buy me six new romance novels and enough of my favourite chocolate to keep me in stock for a year.
It was weird.
Kinda cute, but weird...
Invasion of the Body Snatchers, MC-style.
Since then, Zeke either goes out of his way to ignore that I’m female or he pushes me toward my cousin for things that he and Slash would have once done with me. It’s like my gender is contagious. My best friend, Nadia, thinks it’s because he’s trying to ignore that I’m growing up, but I’m not sure I agree. Zeke’s twenty-two now. He’s got his full rocker, been promoted to enforcer, and I know he spends his free time with the club’s cut sluts.
He isn’t shy around women.
How do I know this?
Well, the last time he allowed me to attend a party at the Shamrocks city compound, I was given a bird’s eye view of Slash, Toker, and Zeke’s interest women—specifically the ones who hang around at the clubhouse for the explicit purpose of sleeping with the brothers and the hang-abouts.
Like I literally walked in on Zeke and Slash screwing the same woman.
That was three months ago.
I still blush every time I think about it.
The gorgeous blonde woman was bound by leather handcuffs to the top part of black metal, four-poster bed that Slash had custom made to fit his six-foot-seven frame, and the two men were taking her, Slash from behind, Zeke from the front, as she fought to keep her balance in the awkward, stretched out, position they had her trapped in.
It was educational to say the least. And I’d be lying if I said that MFM threesomes didn’t suddenly find their way into my favourites list on Bellesa.
“Pay attention, Lily,” Zeke snaps at me. I jerk at his vehemence, afraid that he somehow read my mind. “Not gonna have Brutus tryna take my head off because you drop a Harley before I can even get ya onto the open highway.”
Satisfied that his agitation is due to my distraction, I allow myself one last sniff of the leather riding jacket he bought me—one that he used when he was younger since he reckons girl’s jackets put ‘fashion over function’—then I sit up straight and focus on the task ahead. I have to get this right, and I have to learn it quickly. My dad has forbidden me from learning to ride like my brothers. It’s absolute bullshit. Misogynistic. Old-fashioned. Basically, every patriarchal epithet you can think of rolled into one big, fat ball of antiquated fatherly smothering.
