Riding With The Beast

Running wasn't a choice anymore — it was the only way I knew how to breathe.

Three weeks. Three weeks of switching names, jumping buses, and flinching at every loud engine like the hounds of hell were right on my heels.

I left behind a life wrapped in gold chains but locked behind cold, empty walls. And a man who called himself my husband, but thought love was just another word for control.

Blackpine was supposed to be my fresh start. A tiny, forgotten dot on the map where no one asks for ID, no one digs into your past, and secrets stay buried forever.

I thought I'd found a place to disappear.

Turns out I only walked straight into the lion's mouth.

I shoved open the door of Rust & Iron, and the whole bar went dead silent.

The air hit me thick and heavy — sharp with whiskey, burnt tobacco, motor grease, and that wild, unfiltered scent of men who live by their own rules and answer to no law.

Every head snapped toward me. A dozen rough, hungry eyes raked over my worn jeans, scuffed boots, and the way my hands curled into fists like I was ready to fight the whole room.

"Look what just wandered in," someone drawled from the side, followed by low, dirty chuckles. "Lost little thing far from home, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up," I shot back before I even thought twice. "I ain't lost, and I sure as hell ain't yours."

That's when I heard it.

A low, throaty laugh rolled out from the darkest corner — deep, smoky, and rich enough to make my skin prickle hot all over before I even saw who it belonged to.

"Now that's the kind of mouth I wanna hear more of."

My feet moved on their own. I turned — and every single thought in my head just vanished.

He sat there like he owned the whole damn building, maybe the whole town.

Broad shoulders stretched tight under a black leather cut, silver stitching blazing clear: IRON VIPERS — PRESIDENT.

His arms were on full display, covered in ink from wrist to neck — roaring wolves, tangled chains, flames that looked alive, and skulls that seemed to stare right through your soul.

His face? Carved from solid stone. Sharp jaw dusted with dark stubble, cheekbones high, and lips curved in a smirk that promised equal parts sin and trouble.

But his eyes? Fuck. Dark as midnight, burning like embers, and so intense it felt like he'd already stripped me naked and read every secret I carried just by looking.

"Damn," he drawled, leaning forward slow, elbows resting on the bar. "You look like you've been chewed up and spit out — and you still stand there ready to bite the hand that tries to touch you. I love that."

I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see how fast my pulse was hammering. "I didn't come here to be admired. I need work and a bed. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?"

He pushed himself up, and my knees went weak just watching him move. Six and a half feet of pure muscle, power, and danger — every step measured, every motion screaming dominance.

In three long strides he closed the space, caging me between his body and the door. The scent of leather, expensive cedar, and aged whiskey wrapped around me — heady, addictive, impossible to ignore.

"Baby, the second you walked through that door? 'Nothing more' went straight out the window."

"Back the hell up," I warned, but my voice came out breathless, softer than I wanted it to be.

He leaned down, face inches from mine, his warm breath brushing my skin and sending heat coiling low in my belly.

"Or what? You gonna run again? I can taste it on you — fear, rage, secrets… all wrapped up in one sweet, tempting little package. You hate being controlled. You hate being owned."

"I belong to no one," I snapped — even as my heart raced like it wanted to jump out of my chest.

"Is that right?"

His hand rose slow, and my body reacted before my brain could catch up. Shoulders tensed, eyes darting away — an old reflex beaten into me long ago.

His hand froze instantly. The smirk died, replaced by a flash of dark, raging fire — not aimed at me, but at the bastard who taught me to fear a raised hand.

"Easy," he rumbled, voice dropping to a growl that vibrated right through my bones. "I don't lay a hand on a woman unless she's begging for it. But I do claim what catches my eye. And you? You've caught mine hard."

"Fuck you," I spat — but there was no real bite left. My skin was already burning, every nerve ending screaming at how close he was.

He laughed — low, rough, and full of wicked promise. "Oh, sweetheart… you will. And when you do? You'll say it like a prayer."

He glanced over his shoulder, never once taking those burning eyes off me.

"Jax. Key to the room above the back storage. She cleans, serves, does whatever work needs doing. And if she steps one foot outside after dark without me? Lock it. No exceptions."

"Got it, Prez." The bartender tossed the keys across the room.

Kael caught them one-handed, then pressed them into my palm. His fingers were rough and calloused, and the touch sent electric sparks shooting all the way up my arm.

He curled his other hand gently but firmly around my chin, tilting my face up so I had nowhere to look but at him.

"You think you ran here to escape being caged? Cute. But you landed in my territory. My rules. My world."

His thumb dragged slow and deliberate over my lower lip, and I gasped softly, my eyelids fluttering shut for half a second before I forced them open again.

"You don't run from me. You don't lie to me. And you sure as hell don't look at any other man the way you're looking at me right now."

"Or what?" I breathed, barely making a sound.

His lips brushed mine — light, teasing, and so hot it made my head spin.

"Or I'll bend you over the nearest flat surface, tear those clothes off, and remind you exactly who owns every inch of you now. Got it?"

My mind screamed danger. Every cell in my body screamed yes.

"Got it," I whispered.

He let go, stepping back with that wicked, possessive smirk back in place — looking like the devil who'd just found his new favorite obsession.

"Good. And one more thing, Lila?"

I froze. My eyes went wide. "How the hell do you know my name?"

"This is my town, baby. Nothing moves, nothing hides, and no one slips through the cracks. And you? You just became mine to watch."

I grabbed my bag and the keys, turning fast before he could see just how much he'd already gotten under my skin.

Up the narrow creaky stairs, into the small, sparse room, I slammed the door and leaned back against it, chest heaving like I'd just outrun a storm.

I ran all this way to escape being owned — only to walk straight into the hands of a man who made me want to be his, even if it was just for a little while.

And the worst, most thrilling truth?

I already knew I was never going to get away.