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The broody one knew it, too.
From the mutinous looks he kept lobbying my way, it felt like he could see right through me. The sullen biker’s nostrils flared whenever we got too close–as though he found my scent offensive–meanwhile, I was having to work overtime to wrestle my all-systems-go libido back into its box.
Even more than the other two sexy specimens, I wanted to jump this moody guy’s bones. Dude looked like he’d rather throw me off a cliff rather than bed me, though, and for some reason that got my motor running even harder.
What the fuck did that say about my sanity? Nothing good, that was for damned sure.
Furthermore, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d scratched that particular itch.
Since my return to Valhalla’s Pass, I’d been far too busy trying to get the bar back on track to have any sort of relationship. Not many people were keen to hook up with a girl who kept my hours and then worked most weekdays–either on the bar, fixing up whatever part of the old house needed my attention next, tending to our meager vegetable garden or going out hunting. One way or another, I just didn’t have time to hang out in town picking up dick, unless I was running an errand or visiting the library for more word porn.
In amongst the daily chaos of running Last Chance Bar, the one guilty pleasure I afforded myself was drinking my first cup of coffee, feet kicked up in a hammock out back while enjoying a book in the afternoon sun before the madness resumed. That was really the only reason Samantha and I had stayed friends all these years. She was one of the few people from town I saw on the regular who wasn’t a frequent customer.
My plan to deal with this sudden onslaught of instalust was to kick these nice–if somewhat causally violent–folk to the curb. Then I’d run a long, hot bath and rub one out to ease the tension. A quick ‘O’ would allow me to get back to the more pressing matters at hand. Namely, working out how the fuck to keep my bar from falling into the hands of the slimy Drakon Hunters MC.
Getting up from Cobalt’s side–Medic, according to his cut–Samantha approached with a lop-sided grin. A trio of green-skinned Misfits clocked her movement but let her move without interference. They seemed to have a very familiar level of intense focus where my friend was concerned. I scowled at them and one of the bastards had the balls to wink at me, earning a blistering glare from the big, burly arm-ripper at my back.
“So, Dan needs to be monitored tonight, obviously.” My friend offered me a smirk as though she was working her way round to something I wouldn’t like. “He took a sleeping draft laced with a healing serum. Advanced off-world crap. They call it magitech.”
Now my learned friend was just making up words, I was sure of it.
“Look, Sam,” I began in a reasonable ‘I’m sure you’re not really as crazy as you sound’ voice. “I appreciate your help. I do. And I’m sure the Misfits’ “Medic” is great at patching up scuffles and all. But those fuckers went to town on Dan. He needs to be in a hospital, monitored by real doctors.”
“Nope. Regular doctors would only cock this up. The nano-serum is already working miracles. It supports the natural healing magic in Dan’s body and gives it a turbo boost.” Catching my incredulous scowl, Samantha laughed. “Don’t worry, Cobalt knows his stuff. And he’s got Raven peering over his shoulder at every turn. Our patient is in good hands and will be much perkier by tomorrow, promise. It’s best we don’t try to transport him back to town, though. So, can Dan crash in one of the rooms up top?”
I nodded, warily, still waiting for the penny to drop.
“As you might have guessed, Cobalt needs to stick close by to watch over him.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, arching my eyebrow at her to get the rest of it out in the open. “And we don’t really trust the Hunters to steer the fuck clear–even though we know they’ll want to hold off on the major rumble until the full moon to ensure they’re at full juice–so… I was thinking… sleepover?”
She grinned at me as I glared at her.
“Nope. No fucking way, Sam,” I started. “You know I like my space.”
The surly purple-skinned Misfit scoffed as he moved past.
I spun on the prick and planted my finger right into the center of his chest, halting him in his tracks. His scowl matched my own as he stared at my offending finger like he was considering biting the digit off. The swarm of bees in my stomach went into overdrive at how delicious his lips looked, all pressed into a haughty line.
“Shut it, moody pants,” I growled. “Don’t need commentary from the stuffed-shirt peanut gallery.”
The muscle-bound biker at my back broke out into a surprised pelt of laughter. I turned to shoot him an incredulous look, but my eyes caught on the glittering gaze of the lean purple-toned biker at the chuckling warrior’s side instead. “You tell him, fire-dancer,” said the one who I was sure was the troublemaker of the group with a grin. “Radon deserves a kick up the pants every now and then. Helps dislodge the massive stick that got stuck up there.”
Samantha cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her. “Just in case you’d like some introductions” –her sly smile only made my scowl deepen– “that cheeky one, with the gift of the gab and a talent for putting his foot in his mouth, is Quasar.” The lean guy, Quasar, gave me a cheeky salute. “The ballbuster, who ripped Claw’s arm off without batting an eye, is Asteroid.” Asteroid didn’t react to the slight, just kept grinning at me like Samantha’s description was par for the course. “And the moody one, who might or might not be considering taking a chunk out of your cute hide right now, is Radon.”
Radon didn’t react, either. However, while only good-natured acceptance was radiating from Asteroid, Radon’s energy was a dark cloud of resentment which crackled and popped in the air between us.
Samantha paused for a beat, as though to let the important information sink in as I made my observations, then cocked a thumb over her shoulder at the formidable bikers who’d been pitching in right alongside their members. “Oh, and in terms of the leadership, Zinc is our VP and Argon is holding onto President by the skin of his teeth. Watch this space, babe, ‘coz the Stellar Misfits are just getting started.”
That declaration earned my friend a few slit-eyed glare of her own from Argon. A sexy dark-haired beauty who was wearing her own cut waved a hand at Samantha from across the room. “Yo, wordy bitch, don’t forget about me.”
“Oh yeah,” Samantha smirked. “And you might remember Eden.”
I shot a quick look over at the owner of that snarky, if somewhat familiar, voice. Ididknow Eden. She’d been a scrappy thing in the playground who hung around with a few of the local troublemakers. Come to think of it, I was fairly sure those troublemakers had gone on to join the Drakon Hunters. I narrowed my eyes at Eden who waggled her fingers at me.
“She’s the mouthy one mated to Argon and his mates,” my friend continued. “She’s a witch, too, but only started to unlock her potential recently.Afterfighting her way clear of the Drakon Hunters.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “She’s the one who took refuge in the library? Why didn’t you tell me her name?”
Samantha shrugged. “Didn’t know if you’d remember her.”
