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Sucking in a deep breath, I turn around and face the man.
He’s standing before me, clad in a worn leather cut over his shirt. Bikers have ridden through town and wear the same thing.
He might be in his mid to late thirties, and while he looks rugged, his eyes are warm and kind.
At the sight of me, his stern expression grows sympathetic. He walks toward me and I take a few steps back.
He swallows hard before he speaks in a kind tone, “Get on the back of my bike. I promise I won’t hurt you. Looks like someone else already did.” He gestures toward my face.
Wow, I must look really bad.
I reach my hand up instinctively and wince the second my fingertips touch my skin. I had no idea it would be so sensitive to the touch.
He speaks up again, “I mean it. I won’t hurt you, but whoever did this is going to do it again. Let me get you out of here.”
His words speak a truth he can’t possibly understand. I will never allow Eli to hurt me ever again.
I nod, giving in to the help from this unexpected stranger. “Fine. T-thank you,” I stammer out.
I walk toward him, and he meets me halfway, gently taking the duffel bag from my hands.
He looks me up and down, his sympathy ever so evident. “I’ll strap this to the bike, and then we’ll get going.” He extends a hand. “I’m Ivar.”
I take his hand and shake it. “Starla.”
CHAPTER ONE
Ivar
Present Day . . .
My green-dyed beer is nearly gone as I survey the happenings in our crowded club. Laughter and music fill the air, and almost everyone is in a great mood—except her.
Starla.
She’s standing behind the bar with Regnor, both working to keep up with all of the drinks. He’s insisted on helping her, and over time, her irritation is obviously growing.
I’ve already witnessed her reluctantly accepting his help, but there was one condition. It was supposed to be for ten minutes. We’re well past that, and every time they bump into each other, her aggravation grows.
Starla turns and glares at him as Rayna and Magnus take a seat on the other side. “Get the fuck away. I already told you I don’t need any fuckin’ help!”
Magnus raises his brows in surprise, but he’s a fool for being shocked. A dark cloud has been hovering over Starla ever since she killed LeAnn. She’s been moodier, unlike her typical happy-go-lucky self.
Starla hasn’t had the best past. She grew up in a desolate Texas town, trapped in a rundown trailer with her drug-addict mother and her stepfather.
She faced physical and emotional abuse ever since she was a child, but killing LeAnn did something to her. It unleashed something.
Deep down, it made her realize what she’s truly capable of. What she fails to realize is this: it’s not just her. If anyone is pushed to grave lengths, they’ll do whatever’s necessary to defend the people they care about.
Magnus whispers something in Rayna’s ear, and she shoots him a deadly glare that could incinerate him on the spot.
Once Regnor has made his way out from behind the bar, Starla looks at Magnus. “Want some Shrek colored beer?”
He nods, and she sighs, taking in a deep breath. I narrow my eyes, watching the situation closely. I’ve always cared about Starla, ever since I found her walking down the interstate beaten and afraid.
To this day, I still don’t know who hurt her, but eventually, I hope she’ll tell me. Whoever it is will have a reckoning come down on him the first chance I get.
Magnus asks, “Is everything okay?”
