STORY EXCERPT

Too bad that hadn’t stopped Percy’s father from returning, but Jacob had enough brain cells left to get back in his car whenever Santiago landed on the porch. The guy was intimidating with a capital T for terrifying. Only someone with brain damage and a death wish would try to get past Santiago. 

So, to get Percy’s mind off his father’s visit, twenty minutes later, they stood in front of a brick building, the black-and-white Sin & Steel sign in script above them. They stared at the row of motorcycles parked diagonally at the curb in front of Sin’s, the late afternoon sun gleaming off chrome, casting sharp reflections across the pavement. 

This was such a bad idea. The worst. 

Leather-clad riders lingered nearby, cigarettes dangling from fingers, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the steady hum of conversation. 

Music bled from inside, a bass-heavy rhythm vibrating through the closed doors. The scent of beer and fried food hung thick in the air, mixing with the faint burn of gasoline and the rich musk of worn leather. 

Percy stood beside Elijah, hands fidgeting with his skinny jeans, shifting his weight like he was already debating how much trouble this night would bring.

Please don’t let this night bring chaos. Or my death. 

“I’m not so sure about this.” Elijah glanced at the men then back at the building, wondering if Percy could catch him if he took off running. No sooner had the thought settled than his phone buzzed. Digging it out of his back pocket, Elijah glanced at the screen and wished he hadn’t. 

Left something at your place. Need to pick it up. Why aren’t you answering door? It’s Friday night. You should be under that damn blanket, watching your show. Stop playing childish games and open up, Elijah.

He debated on replying for all of five seconds then shoved his phone back into his pocket. “What are we waiting for?” Enraged Trent just nailed his pathetic routine perfectly, he grabbed Percy’s hand and yanked him inside. 

Elijah would prove he was more than granny blankets and remotes. Bastard. 

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but his ears rebelled against the loud, bass-filled music threatening to make them bleed. 

They just stood there like two dorks, inhaling the scents of leather, booze, and… Elijah sniffed. Was that fried chicken? 

When men entered behind them, he and Percy had to move farther inside. Yet, all Elijah wanted to do was spin around and haul ass. Neon signs hung above an entire wall of liquor. The table to his right was covered in a collection of shot glasses.  

Either someone had no liver left or there had been a drinking contest from hell. The sound of pool balls cracking caught his attention, along with what looked like a heated argument on the other side of the room.

Elijah’s ass did not belong in there. 

He felt like he was surrounded by a wall of testosterone and barely holding his ground. Every man in the room was built like they ate people like Elijah for breakfast then washed the carcass down with a whiskey chaser. Thick with muscle and confidence that said they owned whatever space they occupied. 

Oh boy.

Percy shifted beside him, his hand grazing Elijah’s arm in a silent question—Are we really doing this? But Elijah wasn’t about to let Trent’s text wasn’t dragging him back to that blanket, so he lifted his chin and took a cautious step forward. 

Then took a quick step back. 

Eyes flicked their way, some barely sparing them a glance, others lingering just long enough to send a fresh wave of fear crawling through Elijah.

 These men weren’t just rough around the edges. They looked like they’d been sharpened by a lifetime of fights and hard living. Leather stretched over broad shoulders, tattoos on full display, and the sheer presence of them made Elijah’s pulse spike. 

These were not weekend bikers. These were men who could kill you with a glance and wouldn’t even blink.

He and Percy were not going to survive this. Sweat trickled down Elijah’s back, causing his shirt to cling to him. Now he felt like he’d wasted a perfectly good shower. 

The heavy scent of whiskey and sweat lingered in the air, mixing with something earthier, something that made Elijah’s instincts itch in a way he couldn’t explain. The lighting was dim, the neon casting a glow over the polished bar top, where a few guys sat nursing their drinks, voices low, murmuring in a way that felt private. 

Percy leaned in, his breath warm against Elijah’s ear. “Why did you let me drag you here?” 

Elijah whipped his head around and glared at his best friend. “I suggested Ripples. You suggested possible death and dismemberment. We’re here now, so let’s make the best of it.” 

This was the equivalent of walking into an alley and realizing this was where his obituary would get written.

Oh, Elijah did not like the flare of sass in Percy’s eyes. They were definitely leaving in pieces. Percy snatched his hand and began to walk so fast Elijah’s head snapped back. They ended up at the counter, sliding onto stools. 

“Hey, handsome,” Percy called out to the bartender as he smacked the countertop. “Two Cosmos, and do you know where Santiago is? We’re supposed to meet him here.” He turned toward Elijah. “If we’re about to get devoured, this bitch is going to enjoy the ride.” 

This was not the moment for Percy to have a young-life crisis. He’d just ordered Cosmos in a whiskey-soaked murder tavern. 

Elijah glanced at the bartender and was positive they would be devoured. The guy was downright gorgeous, if lethal could be considered sexy. All dark and dangerous looks, chiseled jawline, and a commanding presence that exuded confidence and demanded your immediate submission.

He strode their way, taking his time, his gaze sliding over them one at a time. 

Why did Elijah have the feeling the guy was sizing them up to figure out if they would both fit in the trunk of his car at the same time?

ADULT EXCERPT

Matias’s words lingered, curling around Elijah’s ribs, settling deep in his chest. A mate isn’t a leash. It’s not a trap. It’s worship.

The weight of that promise sent heat straight to his core, something deeper than lust twisting inside of him. He wanted to believe it. Needed to believe it.

Matias wasn’t like Trent. That much, Elijah already knew. And Matias had meant every word.

The kiss turned slow, intoxicating, each drag of Matias’s lips over his own unraveling something inside him. A deep warmth, an ache that went far beyond physical need.

Elijah wanted to give.

Not just because Matias had already wrecked him in the kitchen. Not just because he was still lightheaded from the orgasm that had left him breathless.

But because Matias had chosen him.

Shifting beneath him, Elijah pushed gently at Matias’s shoulder, urging him onto his back. He hesitated, half expecting resistance, some reminder of who was in charge. But Matias allowed it, resting against the pillows, watching him with something dark and knowing in those eyes.

That intensity nearly knocked the breath out of Elijah.

A shaky exhale, then he trailed a hand down Matias’s chest, savoring the heat beneath his fingertips. Every ridge of muscle, every taut inch of skin. His own pulse pounded in his ears as he moved lower, pressing a kiss to the center of Matias’s chest, lips brushing over the steady, grounding beat of his heart.

A growl rumbled from above him. Soft. Encouraging.

Fingers curled in his hair as he kept going, mouth trailing lower, tongue flicking over one of Matias’s nipples just to hear the sharp inhale, the way Matias’s body tensed beneath him.

The wolf liked that.

Elijah smirked, dragging his nails down Matias’s ribs as he kissed his way over the hard planes of his stomach. The sharp hiss he got in response sent heat rushing through him, emboldening him.

A slow glance upward. Matias’s gaze burned into him, dark and molten, his chest rising and falling in steady, controlled breaths.

So in control. Elijah wanted to break that control.

Settling between Matias’s legs, he kissed the line of muscle leading down to the waistband of his jeans, lips lingering just above the thick outline straining against the fabric. He pressed his nose against it, exhaling slow, feeling the heat of Matias’s cock through the denim.

Above him, the growl deepened, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Elijah,” Matias warned, voice a rough scrape of restraint.

Elijah grinned, fingers hooking into the waistband, dragging it down just enough to free him. He’d felt Matias’s size before, through clothes, through teasing touches, but seeing it bare—hard, thick, already leaking at the tip—was something else entirely.

Lips parting, Elijah dragged his tongue along the flushed head, tasting the salt of precum, feeling the slight jerk of Matias’s hips as he did.

A slow, pleased hum.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he took Matias into his mouth.

The moment Matias’s cock slid past his lips, the sharp inhale above him sent a thrill down Elijah’s spine. So in control—always in control. But not now. Not in this.

A slow drag of his tongue, a hollowing of his cheeks, and Matias’s fingers tightened in his hair. Elijah couldn’t stop the smug little hum vibrating around the cock in his mouth. The sound earned him a deep, rumbling growl, one that sent heat straight between his legs.

Fuck, I like that.

He wanted more of it.

Flattening his tongue, he took Matias deeper, swallowing around him, breathing through his nose as he adjusted to the stretch. A curse slipped from Matias’s lips, rough and barely restrained.

The satisfaction of knowing he could do this, knowing he could pull reactions from the alpha who never slipped, never let his guard down—it only made Elijah bolder.

A slow pull back, lips dragging, tongue swirling.

The sharp jerk of Matias’s hips nearly stole his breath.

“Elijah,” Matias ground out, voice wrecked, vibrating with barely leashed power, “do that again.”

A shiver coursed down Elijah’s spine.

Matias didn’t ask. Matias demanded.

The dominance in that single command had Elijah’s cock twitching, aching. He obeyed without hesitation, swallowing him down once more, tightening his lips, sliding his hands up Matias’s thighs as he worked his mouth over his cock, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

The grip in his hair flexed, a heavy exhale filling the room.

Matias was letting him do this.

Elijah knew the wolf could take control, could fuck his mouth if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He allowed Elijah to push, to tease, to take—and it only made him want to give more.

His own cock throbbed, pressed tight against his stomach as he focused solely on Matias. His hands slid upward, fingers skimming over the ridges of Matias’s abs, nails scraping lightly, and a deep growl rattled the air.

Matias’s thighs tensed beneath his palms.

His control was slipping.

Another swirl of his tongue, another slow descent, and Matias’s chest rose on a sharp inhale, his fingers flexing in Elijah’s hair before gripping firm, guiding him, setting the pace.

“Yes,” Matias murmured, voice low, reverent, dark with satisfaction. “That’s it, conejito. Take all of me.”