Bewitching The Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 7)

The sounds of nature filter through the sound system, sounds like river water moving over rocks.

“Can I help you?” The same female voice from moments ago blows right in my ear.

I turn and that’s when I see her. A woman that barely reaches my chest. Dark unruly curls, olive skin, and eyes so blue they remind me of sea glass. The woman is dressed in a black knit halter that clings to her body, showing off her ample cleavage, paired with a flowing black skirt that hugs her hips and covers her ankles. Her purple toenails peek out the hem revealing that she’s barefoot. There’s a thick black leather cuff wrapped around one of her wrists.  The choker wrapped around her slender throat has a small crystal dangling from the center.

On instinct I reach out to touch the stone that reminds me of the stripes of a tiger.

The smooth stone is warm to the touch.

“Pretty,” I murmur, and her gaze meets mine, but I’m not talking about the stone. Fuck me. She’s gorgeous.

“Tiger’s eye. Is there something I can help you with?” She eyes my cut. “Sandman?” She quirks a brow staring at the patches sewn on the front.

“Yeah. Looking for a Ouija board. You sell that shit here?”

Those gorgeous blue orbs turn into slits, narrowing on me. “No.” Her voice rises as her lips tighten. “Try the board games in the toy section at Walmart. This isn’t a novelty shop.” She turns, strutting to the counter where the cash register is set up. What she lacks in long legs, her ass more than makes up for.

“You ain't gotta get that sweet ass all riled up, baby doll. Was told you got the real deal here.”

“First of all, don’t call me baby doll. Second, I said we don’t sell what you're searching for. Third, you need to leave.”

I pull out my money clip. “How much?” I drop a few hundreds on the counter.

She grips my wrist, eyes locking with mine. I freeze, unable to move. Either captivated or hypnotized. I’m not sure which. “Me solum relinquatis. Non revertemur.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“Leave,” she grinds the word out like a warning and releases my wrist.

“Bitch,” I mutter and snatch my bills off the counter. I shake my head as I leave. My feet hit the sidewalk and a crow lands on the seat of my bike. “Go on. Shoo. Get the fuck outta here.” I wave my arm toward him, and he caws before flying away.

The second I’m back on my motorcycle thunder claps over my head so loud the world seems to shake. I stare back at the shop window, scanning the inside. I don’t know what I’m searching for.

I ride out and head to the house I rent with Hound, getting fucking drenched in the process. The weather forecast didn’t say shit all about any damn rain today.

I pull into the garage where Viking is down on all fours with a piece of cheese hanging out of his mouth. Bastard might as well move in too. If he’s not at the clubhouse or his gym, he’s here. I shut off my girl and hang my cut on the rack we keep by the door that leads to the laundry room.

“The fuck are you doing?” I ask him as I drag my shirt over my shoulders then my head. I wring the water out over him, and he curses.

The cheese falls from his mouth. “The fuck, asshole. I’m trying to catch this cat that ran in when I pulled up so Hound’s dogs don’t eat it.”

“About the only pussy you can nail.” I laugh and use my shirt to flick him in the middle of the back with.

“Ahh,” he cries out. “You’re dead, dick face.”

“Just trying to toughen you up for your next fight.” I grin as the red welt appears on his back. I move in behind him and grab the back of his hair while making a motion of doing him up the ass.

“Get off me. I swear to Satan I’m going to kill you.”

“Baby, you know I love it when you threaten me.” I slap his ass and proceed into the laundry room to strip out of my wet jeans. Damn rain made my ass itch. I toss my wet shit in the washer. I’ll deal with it later.

I hit the kitchen in my boxer briefs for a beer. Hound is at the stove cooking up some tacos.

“Fuck, man. I just mopped and shit. You’re dripping water everywhere.”

His chocolate Cane Corso, She-Ra comes over and sniffs at the water I tracked in. I give her a scratch behind the ears before she resumes her position on the rug in front of the sink. The rest of his pack is in the backyard in their kennels. Brother trains dogs for security and shit.

“Need to find you a woman fast. You’re starting to nag at me like a bitch.”

“Don’t worry about it. My game is strong.”

I snort. “That’s why Zoe won’t return your calls.”

“Fuck you. That’s cold. For that shit right there, you don't get any of my tacos and we both know they’re damn good.”

“Whatever,” I mutter and crack open the tab on my can. I slurp down half and slam it down on the counter as I belch.

“Why you all wet anyway?”

“Got fuckin’ soaked in that downpour on the way home.”

“I didn’t think it was supposed to rain.”

“Yeah, me neither. Pam and Wylla Mae sent me to some witchy woo store, and when I left got drenched.”

“Witchy woo?” he raises a brow and moves to drain the grease off his hamburger meat.

“Some shop downtown that sells old shit and crystals.”