King's Descendants MC - BOXED SET

by Bella Jewel

  “You’re mine, Briella.”

  “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

  “I don’t fuckin’ like people tryin’ to take what’s mine.”

  “He wasn’t trying.”

  He makes an unhappy sound in his throat and then leans back down and kisses me again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring mine, his hands finding my hips, his body pressing mine into the cold outside of the house.

  “Fuck me, Alarick. Right here,” I plead, gripping his thick locks and tugging him back down to me when his kiss doesn’t go quite as deep.

  He makes a pleased sound and then his hand is beneath my dress and slipping underneath my panties. His finger finds my wet pussy and he rubs, slowly stroking up and down, over my clit, until I’m gasping against his mouth, which is still pressed against mine.

  “You better be this fuckin’ wet for me,” he growls.

  “It’s all for you,” I whimper.

  He slips a finger inside of me, and I grip his shoulders, moaning as he slides it out and then plunges it back in.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “You want my cock inside you?” he rasps, sliding his mouth down my neck.

  “Yes.”

  “How fuckin’ badly?”

  “So god damned badly. Fuck me, baby. Please.”

  With a satisfied growl, he reaches for his jeans and releases his cock. Then he’s got my leg around his hips, my panties aside, and he’s plunging his dick deep inside me. No warning. Nothing but pure animal passion. He’s fucking me like the world is going to end and this is the last chance he’ll ever have.

  I moan and throw my head back, arching my hips into him and letting him take me as deeply as he can.

  And he goes.

  Cock deep.

  Fingers gripping my hips.

  Mouth on my neck.

  My hands on his biceps.

  The raw pleasure ripping through my body with every thrust.

  I cum, and I do it with a feral moan.

  It doesn’t take him long to find his own release.

  I press my face into his chest, and I breathe him in as I feel his body shudder. I take this moment for everything it is.

  I indulge in the pure passion of it.

  That is until the sound of a gun being fired ricochets through the night.

  Alarick moves.

  I move.

  We’re whipping our heads around in the direction of the shot.

  There’s someone lying on the ground, in a pool of blood.

  Even in the darkness, I can see it.

  I can see who.

  Mykel.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  15

  FLICK

  I move, as fast as I can fucking get my legs to.

  I run and drop to the ground beside my friend, who is unresponsive in the dirt, blood pouring from his chest and his mouth.

  No.

  Fucking no.

  This can’t be happening.

  “Pres?” Cohen’s voice radiates through the darkness, muffled out by Briella’s cries as she cradles Mykel’s head in her hands.

  “Get an ambulance, now!” I roar into the darkness. “Send a perimeter out. Someone is out there. Go and fuckin’ find them, and bring them to me.”

  Cohen moves, without question. He’s barking orders I can’t hear, and then he’s dialing an ambulance. I press my fingers to Mykel’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He’s got one. Weak, but there. He’s breathing, though his breaths are ragged and gurgly. It’s the most horrible fucking sound I’ve ever heard.

  “C’mon, brother. Don’t you fuckin’ leave me.”

  I rip my shirt off and press it to the wound in his chest, and then I order Briella to hold it down until the ambulance arrives. She does as I ask, without thought, and presses the shirt down on Mykel’s chest, tears rolling down her face and dripping onto his lifeless form. My chest feels like it’s going to explode, but I keep it together, breathing through the agonizing pain ripping through my chest right now.

  I need to find whoever did this.

  I need to fucking make them scream.

  I glance around into the darkness where flashlights are moving as everyone looks. Bohdi is ushering everyone out the front door and making sure they leave unharmed, but also making sure they don’t come out here. I can hear the chaos inside, but he’s got it under control. The man is going to make a great member of this team, I don’t fucking doubt that.

  Within ten minutes, two EMTs are rushing toward where Mykel lies in the dirt. I’ve seen too many people in this fucking dirt to last me a damned lifetime. I can’t take another loss, another person down because of this god damned monster that is ruling my life right now.

  “What happened?” the EMT asks, dropping to his knees beside Mykel and immediately feeling for a pulse.

  “Someone shot him. Chest.”

  They move quickly, getting his body onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Briella and I watch as they load him in, working on him, pressing white towels to his bloodied body. They tell us where they’ll be taking him, and then they’re gone.

  I watch him go with an ache in my heart that I know will never full recover.

  “We have to go to him,” Briella says, her voice hitching.

  “You go, now. I’m goin’ to make sure everyone is safe here, then I’m goin’ to be straight there. You hear me?”

  She nods. “Yes, I hear you.”

  “Go, be with him. Don’t leave his side.”

  She moves quickly, and I bark an order at Karen, who was also attending the party, to go with her and make sure they’re not followed to the hospital. She does as I ask, her face white as a ghost, and rushes out the door and toward where Briella is getting into her car. The moment she’s in and gone, I get back to work making sure we get out of this without any more damage.

  “Anythin’?” I ask Cohen as he runs back into the compound, sweating, covered in dirt.

  “Yeah, we got someone. Kendric and Samson are bringin’ him in now. Stupid fucker tripped and looks like he rolled his ankle. Slowed him down enough for us to grab him. Where do you want him, Pres?”

  “You know where. Let’s roll.”

  This fucker is going to pay with his life.

  An eye for a fucking eye.

  I STARE AT THE MAN in front of me, tied to a chair, arms and legs bound. He’s bloodied and bruised, and his head is hanging.

  He’s strong, tough.

  I’ll give him that much.

  I’ve punched him, kicked him, burned him and cut him. The fucker won’t talk. Whoever has the power over this one, has a power strong enough he’s willing to die for it. That makes me wonder just how fucking strong Dax and his team really are.

  “You’re obviously willin’ to pay with your life,” I say to the man, holding a bloodied knife in my hand. “That’s fine with me, one less fucker workin’ for that pig is fine with me. Dax can send as many of you as he wants, I won’t be givin’ in.”

  He looks up at me and smiles, showing me bloodied teeth. “You think Dax is who you should be worried about? You think Dax is where this ends? You’re fuckin’ sadly mistaken. Dax will take down your little club and everyone in it, before you even get close to findin’ out just how powerful this operation is.”

  His words shock and confuse me, I’m not going to lie.

  If Dax isn’t running this show, then who the fuck is?

  “Tell me what you know, either way you’re goin’ to die. Surely your loyalty isn’t that strong?” I growl, stepping closer to him.

  “You can do what you want, torture me until there is no blood left in my body—I will never speak. It’s not about loyalty, biker,” he spits. “It’s about bein’ smart.”

  Fuck.

  He’s not going to talk.

  Not under torture, anyway.

  I know one thing is for sure, Dax is obviously holding something over him. Something strong enough that even if he dies, he want
s to protect. I’d say a family member, a child, or a wife. Someone he’s more than willing to lose his life to keep safe. He talks, I find out the information, Dax is still going after them—even if he’s dead or alive. I know that’s going to pull him up, but I need answers. Fuck, I need answers. The only way I’m getting those answers is to fucking outsmart this dick.

  “Cohen,” I order, raising a hand. “What’s his name?”

  “Not sure, boss, no identification on him.”

  “You’re not going to find out who I am,” he hisses.

  I grin at him. “You underestimate me. I have a cop on my side, you dumb fucker. I’ll find out who you are, and when I fuckin’ do, I’ll find out what you’re desperate to keep safe. You think Dax is a fuckin’ monster, you haven’t met me.”

  This works. It works because I see a flash in his eyes, just a flash. Enough to let me see that he’s concerned over my words, that what I just said to him has him worried. He is concerned that I’m going to find out who he is, and I’m going to make this bad for him.

  He’s right.

  I am.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I say, my voice a low, dangerous whip. “You tell me what I want to know, and I ensure the safety of whoever you’re tryin’ to protect. You don’t tell me what I want to know, then I don’t ensure their safety and I use them for whatever I have to, to get the answers I need.”

  His face tightens, and he growls. “You think I’m scared of you, biker? You have no idea what you’re up against.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me.”

  “I’d rather fuckin’ die. Go ahead, find out what you can, take them and torture them. I will never fuckin’ speak.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I say. “Cohen, get Zariah in here and see what we can use to identify this fucker. We’ll see what he’s willing to go through before he talks.”

  There’s a flash in the man’s eyes again, and I know that whatever I find out about him, and whoever I link to him, is going to be enough to get him talking.

  I just have to find who they are first.

  Don’t doubt it though.

  I’m going to bring this fucking thing to a conclusion.

  One way or another.

  16

  BRIELLA

  I can’t take one single deep breath as I pace up and down the halls, wondering if Mykel is going to make it out of this alive and praying that this isn’t the end of the road for him.

  God, do I pray.

  With tears streaming down my face, I pray.

  He can’t go out like this. Not Mykel. He’s one of the best people I know, he’s got the biggest heart and the kindest soul, and I can’t bear to see him taken away.

  “Here,” Karen says, walking up to me and handing me a cafeteria coffee.

  I take it, and it’s warm at best, but it’s a slight distraction from my racing heart, over-worked mind, and broken soul.

  “Sit down, Briella, there’s nothing we can do but wait. You need to try and calm down so you’re better prepared.”

  Better prepared for his death.

  I look to her, and I don’t say a word. I sit down on an old, worn-out waiting chair and sip the terrible coffee in my hands. I haven’t spoken a great deal to Karen since I found out she went to Alarick. I get why she did it, I do, but she’s the only real friend I’ve had since I’ve been back and her loyalty wasn’t with me. That hurt, it hurt more than I’m willing to discuss right now.

  Sighing, Karen sits beside me, and we wait in silence, both of us pretending to drink the coffee.

  “He’s strong,” she finally says. “He’ll get out of this.”

  She didn’t see him though. She didn’t have her hands on his blood-soaked chest. She didn’t hear his gurgled breathing as he nearly choked on his own blood. She didn’t see any of that, so it’s easy for her to say he’ll come out of this.

  I don’t know if I feel that same hope.

  “I know you’re angry at me, Briella, and I’m truly sorry. I don’t want to fight, because right now you need a friend and I’m the only one here. So please, either yell at me or just get over it until this is done, so we can at least support each other.”

  I turn to her and meet her eyes. “You were the only friend I had here, Karen. The only person I could confide in. It really broke my heart when you went to Alarick.”

  “I know,” she says softly. “I know it did, and I’m sorry. But, Briella, I was concerned—not just for you, but for your life. I didn’t want you to be hurt because I knew I couldn’t live with it. You weren’t thinking clearly, and I’m sorry if what I did hurt, but I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t love you.”

  I look to her, and right now, in this moment, I just don’t have it in me to be angry. My best friend, the only other one I have, could by dying on the table right now and I can’t think of anything else. So, I reach over and take Karen’s hand. I say nothing, because I honestly have nothing to say. I just hang onto her hand and pray that she doesn’t let mine go right now, because I don’t think I’ll get through it.

  “We’re going to get through this,” she tells me, as if reading my mind.

  God, I hope so.

  The doors to the waiting area open, and I turn to see Alarick and Samson walking into the hospital, looking like dark, broken angels. Their faces stony.

  Alarick looks rugged, and tired, and his hands are bruised and battered. I don’t even want to ask, but I can only guess that he found the guy who shot Mykel, and he made sure he wasn’t going to hurt anyone again. I’m not going to go there, I’m just so damned glad to see him right now.

  He walks over to where we’re sitting and looks down at me. His hand comes out and gently he runs a thumb under my chin, holding my eyes for a moment, and then he murmurs in a low voice, “You okay, honey?”

  God damn.

  This man makes me fall in love with him even more, every single day.

  I nod, and then say in a soft voice, “I haven’t heard anything.”

  As if reading my mind, the door opens and a doctor walks in. He’s wearing scrubs and he looks tired, but he walks over to us and asks, “Are you Mykel’s family?”

  We all nod, because, well, we are.

  Mykel has family, of course, but they haven’t been called yet. Why would they be? They haven’t spoken to their son in years. Because of the club. Because of who he chose to be. No, Mykel doesn’t have family that need to know what he’s going through right now.

  “We’ve managed to get Mykel stable. I’m not going to lie to you, the next twenty-four hours will make or break this. Either he’s going to come out of it alive and well, or he’s not going to make it. We’re fully supporting his body right now—he’s not even breathing on his own. That doesn’t mean he can’t, we just want his body to have every chance to recover from this trauma. There was a lot of internal bleeding and damage we had to fix. I honestly don’t know how they got him here alive ...”

  Oh, god.

  This doesn’t sound good, at all.

  “Do you think he’s going to make it, honestly?” Alarick asks, his voice rough and tired.

  “I can’t answer that honestly. As I said, the next twenty-four hours are crucial. If he stays stable, it’ll be a lot better odds for him. If he crashes, there is a good chance he’s not going to make it out.”

  I swallow, and it feels like I’m going to lose it.

  Everything in my body is trembling, everything inside me is threatening to just erupt.

  “Can we see him?” Samson asks.

  “One at a time, you may see him briefly. But he’s not awake and is unresponsive at this time.”

  Samson nods, and looks to Alarick. “I’ll go first.”

  With that, him and the doctor leave.

  I turn to Alarick, and the moment I see his face, my bottom lip trembles and I start to cry. Big heavy tears roll down my face, and I can’t keep it in anymore. A huge sob rips from my throat, and Alarick has me in his arms in a split second, holdi
ng me tightly, murmuring over and over that it’s going to be okay.

  Is it though?

  Is it going to be okay?

  Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.

  THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS we had to wait were hell on earth.

  Not hearing from any doctors.

  Wondering if he was going to make it out alive.

  Wondering if he was crashing and we didn’t know.

  When the doctor came out, about thirty hours later, and told us that Mykel had made it through the night and was now awake, I could have screamed with pure joy.

  I was so happy that Alarick told me to go in first.

  I’ll be forever grateful to him for that. Forever.

  Following the doctor down the halls feels like eternity, and when we finally reach Mykel’s room and he lets me in, I practically barge past him.

  I step in and what I see isn’t what I expected.

  Mykel is awake, but the tubes coming out of him I wasn’t prepared for.

  There are so many—his arms, his chest, his face.

  He looks over at me, and the only thing there isn’t a huge tube coming out of is his mouth.

  “Oh,” I say, and the tears spring forth again.

  I rush over and then gently lift his hand, placing it in mine. He looks up at me, and god, he looks so bad. He looks like he’s risen from the dead.

  “Hey,” he croaks, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Stop cryin’.”

  I shake my head and lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I can’t,” I say. “I can’t because I thought you were gone.”

  I push back up and look at him, swiping my tears. “You scared me.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Me, too.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Dare I ask how you’re feeling?”

  He gives me a weak smile. “I’m alive.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’re a fighter, the doctors are impressed.”

  “They should be.”

  I laugh, and then swipe my tears again. “I never want to go through something like that again. Seeing you like that ...”

  “It’s finished,” he rasps, squeezing my hand. “I’m here. Don’t think about it.”