Biker's Bride (Demons MC)

Before I could slip further into my personal misery, a huge group of people came smashing out of the bar. Two guys, one in a button-down shirt and one in an ugly pink polo were fighting, and people swarmed around them like bugs. I moved to get out of their way, but was too slow. Before I could take a step, pink polo guy smashed right into me, his elbow catching my eye, and I tumbled down hard.

I think I saw stars, but it might have just been the arms that helped me up. Covered in complex tattoos, they were ripped. I looked up at the guy, and my breath was suddenly sucked out of my body. His eyes were bright forest green, deep pools of anger and pain, and his face was covered in thin stubble. He had a small scar across his right eyebrow, and his nose looked like it had been broken in the past. Despite that, he was incredibly handsome, and I was absolutely struck by his lean, muscular physique. He was tall, easily over six feet, and I could sense something dangerous about him. Honestly, he was fucking hot, and I was blown away.

I realized I was staring. “Thanks,” I said quietly, unable to summon enough strength to say anything more.

He grunted in response. Totally cliché, super manly kind of grunt, but he pulled it off.

“Stay clear of this.” He had a deep, gravelly voice.

“Who are you?” I asked, and realized how badly I wanted to know. There was something hypnotizing about him, about his body, and his face.

Instead of answering, he grabbed me by the arm and tugged me off to the side. I was too shocked to resist. The asshole seriously had the audacity to touch me and physically steer me where he wanted. There was something in his touch, firm and commanding, that made me follow along. Once we were a few feet away from the growing crowd, he gave me this weird look, like it was a good idea for me to listen to him or something. Before I could say anything more, he was gone.

I watched him walk off and start pushing through the crowd. I stood there gaping at his back, his thin, tight black T-shirt clinging to his muscled body and his cutoff jean shorts contouring his perfectly sculpted ass. I hadn’t seen a man like him in the whole city yet, and I liked it. Before he got too far, I started to follow him.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. He pushed directly into the ring of people and approached the two guys who were fighting. This man didn’t even pause as he shoved one dude to the ground and knocked the other one out. There was something graceful and dangerous about the way he moved, like he was used to being in a ring of screaming people. As soon as the first guy dropped, the crowd went silent, and there was a palpable fear suddenly rippling through everyone. The second guy, the asshole who knocked me over, approached, and tried to fight back. My sexy mystery man was too fast though, and ended up doing this crazy mid-air knockout, and sent the polo dude flying.

I had no idea how fast fights were, but it couldn’t have been thirty seconds before the two guys were on the ground, groaning in pain. My big mystery man didn’t even pause to look at them, he just kept moving through the crowd, and went out the other side.

I stood and stared at the two guys on the ground for a few seconds, and then something took control of me. I had no clue what happened or why, but there was something about that guy, something I needed to figure out. I ran after him as fast as I could, my heels wobbling. I wished I had worn better shoes, but my legs looked fantastic, long and lean. I didn’t have a lot of friends in the city yet, and maybe there was some loneliness still lingering inside of me that was driving me to talk to that guy. He was the first stranger to be genuinely kind to me in a while, and although I had an amazing best friend and a good job, I was still missing something. Maybe that’s why I was running down a crowded Philly street, half-drunk and breathing hard.

I caught sight of him as he turned the corner ahead. I sped up, heels clacking, and hair flying. I knew I looked like a psycho, and people probably thought I was a drunken idiot, but I didn’t care. My mind was firmly on that mystery guy, his fist smashing into the polo asshole’s face. I didn’t understand why he got involved like that, but I wanted to ask him, and to find out his name. I wanted him to answer me when I asked him who he was.