Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)

“No. I was pissed. I lifted the bike up off my leg and climbed to my feet ready to tear some guy a new asshole. By that time, she’d climbed out of her car and had run up to see if I was okay. I took one look at her, and I was a goner.” He looked over at Skylar and smiled.

“Love at first sight?”

“Lust anyway.”

She laughed.

He shrugged. “The love followed pretty quickly.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and then he looked back at her.

“I’m sorry, Skylar.”

“About what?”

“About what happened to your mom. And to you. About everything.”

She nodded.

He put his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back, he said, “I’m glad we finally found each other.”

She looked into his eyes and could read the sincerity there. “Me, too.”

He gave her neck a little shake, and then his hand slid away.

She turned back to her drink. A moment later, she felt a heat at her shoulder and twisted to see a solid chest wedged between her and Shades’ empty stool, and a hand sliding an empty glass across the bar. Her eyes followed up the leather-clad torso to see a man looking down at her. He was dark headed, with a dark beard to match. His eyes, a dark brown under slashing brows, were giving her a penetrating look and as he stared, her lips parted, and his eyes dropped to her mouth.

Suddenly, Undertaker was making introductions, sort of.

“Skylar, this is Blood.”

Blood did little more than make an almost imperceptible nod, his eyes dropping down to the neckline of her dark slate tank with its silver beaded trim.

The bartender came over, and Blood nodded toward his glass.

“Set her up, too,” he told the bartender who quickly pulled a short rock glass out from under the bar and set it in front of her. He tipped up a bottle of Crown filling Blood’s glass. Before he could move it to the glass set in front of hers, Skylar held her hand up.

“None for me, thanks.”

The bartender looked from Skylar to Blood, the bottle poised in the air, obviously unsure what to do.

“Fill it,” Blood told him.

The bartender filled the glass and made a hasty retreat.

Coward, Skylar thought.

Blood slid the glass toward her.

“Gotta toast the new club Princess.” He held his glass up waiting for her to clink glasses with him. Skylar blew out an exasperated breath and picked hers up, clinking his. He waited, his eyes on her until she brought the glass to her mouth and took a sip. She watched as his eyes fell on her mouth and stayed there, even as he tossed his back in one gulp. He set his glass on the bar, and then leaned on the bar, his arms folded, his head turned toward her.

“Say my name.”

She frowned, confused by his bizarre demand. He repeated it.

“Say my name.”

“Blood.”