Lethal (The Disciples 1)

“Sweet Jesus, fuck yeah, I think I can see your pussy if I try.”

I swing around and stare at the pig who dares disrespect me. Instead of a biker, I see a preppy boy with his hands up, almost scared at my venom.

“Sooory, I had no idea. I thought you were, you know…” He looks around as if the men standing next to him will help.

“I mean, I heard that some of the girls here like to…”

I spit at him.

“Obviously not you.” He backs away, knocking into a giant of a man. His height alone would scare the shit out of you.

“You got a foul mouth for such a little punk.” The biker pushes the coward and I want to laugh. The piece of shit looks like he might have pissed his pants.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble.” Then he runs.

My eyes instantly go to the man and the giant by his side. “Thank you. I had it under control, but still, thanks.” I smile up at him.

“I hate pansy-ass shits like him.” My heart is pounding, my chest almost too tight to breathe. I simply stare because this guy is not superhot—this guy is a fucking Greek god.

“I’m closed. And I’m never free.” I glare and suck in much-needed oxygen. If I don’t pass out, I will have a heart-to-heart with Benny. He can’t be promising free shit at my booth.

He stands there with his arms crossed, nothing but his vest and his beautiful abs on display. Jesus, this guy has the most perfect body I’ve ever seen. And even though I’m sixteen, I have seen plenty of couples having sex. The carnival kind of asks for it. Then add my dad and brother selling drugs. Yeah, I’ve seen naked bodies. But I can honestly say this guy makes me have butterflies and I don’t ever have butterflies in my stomach.

He reaches into his jeans pocket and my eyes follow. Now I can see his abs flex and that V that all the girls always talk about. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights up. Full lips wrap around the end. Adrenaline rushes through me and my skin heats.

He cocks his head and smiles, and I see his eyes.

Time literally stops. The noises, the screams and laughter, the rides—everything stops as I stand mesmerized by the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Like green, green. Not hazel, not bluish green. I’m talking green with long dark lashes that make them seriously pop. His face is tan and he has stubble—not a beard like his buddies. He’s a blond. For some reason I had visualized a dark-haired monster. Instead I stare at a tall blond-haired, green-eyed, almost too pretty to be believed biker god. One arm is covered in tattoos and on his chest he seems to have wings with a knife completing the image of a cross, I think. I can’t fully see in this light.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” That snaps me out of the creepy staring fest I’m having with him and his tattoos.

“Eve.” Why the hell would I tell him my name?

His eyes travel over my face, hair, and body as he smokes.

“Yeah, it fits you.” His voice is like seriously heaven. Gravelly and… well I’ve never heard a voice like his. I place one foot, clad in a dirty Converse sneaker, over my other foot. As I meet his scorching stare, presence, whatever, this guy oozes self-confidence. And, for the first time in my life, I fall. Hard. This guy could make me feel things.

“How old are you, Angel?” He leans his strong arms on my counter. Another biker leans his ass on my counter and I shoot him a glare.

He chuckles. “This one’s wild, Blade. I’d be careful if I was you.”

Blade, I guess that’s his name, stares at me and my cheeks burn.

“Answer me.” It’s soft, but I jump at the command and take a step back, then straighten reaching for my knife. I don’t care how gorgeous this man is. I will never be intimidated.

I bring my knife down with a thud. “I’m nineteen.” If I thought my dramatics would impress him and his friend I’m sorely disappointed. They both look surprised at first then burst into laughter.

“Christ, Prez. she’s got a thing for blades too.” The dark-haired cute friend stands up. “I’m gonna go get my cork sucked by that redhead.”

Blade nods, his pretty eyes watering at laughing so hard. I jerk my knife back and gasp when my wrist is painfully grabbed by long tan fingers. My knife easily falls with a clank. Frantically, I look around, but all I see are bikers. God, how many guys does he have with him? A loud snore comes from Pedro. I don’t even bother trying to get help from him.

“Let’s try this again, Angel. How. Old. Are. You?” His face is so close I can smell him and God, he smells fucking amazing. Like smoke and spice.