Page 10 of Dash

Her eyes suddenly lift, as if she can sense we’re talking about her, and our gazes collide.

Her breath hitches and a flush creeps over her chest, like she knows what I’m thinking. She doesn’t look away. Neither do I. I’ve always been the predator, but right now I’m her prey. She tilts her head to the side, an invitation to play, a challenge, and fuck, I want to.

“Good fuckin’ luck.” Riot smirks before heading over to his fiancée.

Mace lingers. “You sure you’re good with all this?”

The club shit, not the girl who has my balls in a vice.

“Are you?”

“No,” he admits. “But also not surprised it got to this point.”

Me neither. Crank hid behind the patch when we were at war with the Pioneers. He cowered while brothers bleed and died.

Dayna stands, grabbing her bag off the table. She says something to Ivy, but her eyes flick to me. Again, that sultry little invitation dances between us.

I track her as she slips around the table and weaves through the crowd. She looks back at me once before she vanishes into the swell of bodies.

Fuck.

Riot’s warning flashes in my mind, but I ignore it. I need release from the tension crushing my bones.

I slide my bottle onto the bar.

“Nate was right about the girl,” Mace warns. “She’s fuckin’ crazy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I take off in the direction I last saw her.

The music is too loud, too distracting from my hunting, and there are too many fucking people in this room.

One of the strippers—I don’t remember her name—makes a grab for me as I pass, but I sidestep, focused on picking out dark hair.

I find her standing at the back door, breathing in the cold night air. Her face is tipped towards the stars, her eyes closed, like she feels the shift in the universe too.

“I wondered how long you’d make me wait,” she says.

She’s bold. Fire and yet ice. Dark and yet light. She’s a walking contradiction, and yeah, Riot was right. I see the shit she’s dragging behind her, the weight of whatever trauma she has, but when she throws a smile over her shoulder at me, I don’t care about any of that.

She’s beautiful. Beneath the hurt, the pain—whatever the fuck she’s hiding behind this demeanour—there’s a raw vulnerability. One that has me checking we’re on the same page.

“And what are you waiting for?”

“A tall, blond biker.”

My skin heats as I step towards her. “Yeah? I tick those boxes for you?”

As soon as I’m close enough, her fingers curl into my kutte. She’s smaller than me but not fragile. Not delicate. This girl has bite. I feel it.

She leans in. “He also has to have a massive cock he knows how to use.”

Her words are a front, but I lean into it. The back of my fingers trail over her cheek before resting around her throat. Excitement flashes in her eyes.

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart. I’m not like the little boys you’ve fucked before.”

She smiles. “Good. I don’t want a boy, Dash. I want a fucking man.”

I dip my head and take her mouth.

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