Page 1 of Calypso's Shield
PROLOGUE
CALYPSO
5 YEARS EARLIER
Pain like I’ve never felt before rips through me, sending shockwaves through my body. No control. No warning. Nothing.
This isn’t the first time I’ve suffered like this, but it’s the first time it’s been this bad. I can usually tell when the pain is going to come on and prepare for it.
This time, I’m under so much stress I didn’t see the warning signs, and now it’s too late.
I’m due in court in an hour. My divorce from that slimy bastard, Dave Train, is finally here. And I can’t even get out of bed.
This is one of the reasons we’re getting divorced. Not just because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, but because every time I was sick, he became cruel. Controlling. As if my pain were some kind of personal insult to him.
He took everything from me. My willpower, my choices, and my life for years.
Now, because I can’t stand on my own, let alone make it to court, he’s going to win. He’ll be awarded everything.
His abuse and drug use spiraled out of control these last few years, and I was always on the receiving end of his anger. My face and my body were his personal punching bag. My bank account was his endless supply of cash. I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to tell someone.
That someone was Allura, my best friend. When I finally confessed what Dave had been doing to me for the past two years, she lost it. She threatened his manhood in so many colorful ways he won’t ever piss without looking over his shoulder until he granted me a divorce.
Allura and I have been inseparable since freshman year of college, and now we’re prospecting together for the Royal Harlots MC in New York City. She tried to warn me about Dave from the start, but I was too blind. Too hopeful. Too stupid.
Never again.
I’ll never trust another man with my secrets. Or my heart.
1
CALYPSO
3 YEARS LATER
“Lyp, get your ass up.” Allura kicks the side of my bed, making my head hurt and my stomach queasy.
The little fucking gnomes are drilling inside my brain and the queasiness in my stomach makes me wish I could just disappear back under the covers. But reality’s a bitch. I peel my eyes open, blinking against the blinding light creeping through the curtains. Allura is standing at the end of my bed with her hands on her hips, looking like sin in leather. If I swung that way, she wouldn’t be able to resist me. But we both like the sausage more than the cream.
I giggle at my own joke and groan. “Uh.” Throwing the covers over my head, I turn onto my stomach, trying to stop myself from throwing up.
Last night was a blur, but I feel the weight of it. Too many shots of tequila to drown out the haunting voice of my ex-husband, who never seems to understand the meaning of "leaveme the hell alone." A drink for every threat, every attempt to tear me down again. If there’s any silver lining, it’s that I don’t have to remember every detail.
But then the memories hit me all at once. The party at the Royal Bastards clubhouse, the music, the chaos. And then him.Mystery biker man with ocean-blue eyes and a presence that could have knocked me out without a punch. The liquor loosened my inhibitions, and suddenly, I was wrapped around him, dragging him upstairs, begging him to give me exactly what I needed. And he did.
Now, as I lie there, trying to fight off the remnants of the tequila haze, I reach out, and my hand brushes against something hard. Something very, very solid. My stomach flips, and my head throbs in warning. Oh, fuck me.
A deep rumble echoes in my ear. “Did that several times, but I can give you a repeat of it if you’d like.”
I slowly pull the covers down and come face to face with a club member from the Royal Bastards MC.
Movement at the end of the bed reminds me that my walk of shame is being blessed by my best friend, Allura. My face heats with embarrassment.
“Must’ve been good by the red on your face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush,” Allura teases me, the bitch.
“Go away.” I groan and turn onto my side and come face to face with the man who honored my request last night. “Both of you, go away.”
Sexy biker man smirks, making his dimple pop. He puts his hands behind his head, showing his abs, while the sheet barely covers his hips. I can see the outline of that monster through the sheet. “Nope.” He pops the P.
