My Mates Influence

Chapter1Eighteen

The Alpha Biker Tournament. The fight that decided everything—pack leadership, rights to trade, reputation. Winning gave power. Losing gave opponents shame.

A booming voice came from the raised microphone, amplified through my ribcage by the speakers. "Tomorrow, tomorrow, history will be made! The Alpha Biker Tournament will once more decide which pack rides at the top!"

The others went mad—cheers, whistles, bellowing. I stood at the edge of the arena, arms crossed tight over my chest, cramming my face into a mask of impassiveness though my belly knotted up.

The announcer raised his hand theatrically. "For five consecutive years, the Nightowl pack triumphed under their fearless Alpha—Tristen!"

The name struck like a mallet. A wave of applause swept across the gathering. Men raised fists, women screamed, young wolves howled.

Tristen himself stood tall beside the platform, smirking and nodding. His son—Jace—stood beside a black bike, every inch etched arrogance. Leather jacket open, dark hair hanging over his forehead, eyes glinting in the light of the arena.

The announcer gestured to them. "Five years, five championships, and tomorrow—his legacy will live on through his son, Jace Nightowl!"

The crowd roared louder. Jace lifted his chin higher, lips curled into a half-smirk as if the worship belonged to him.

"And let's not forget," the announcer's tone dropped, sneering, "Our so-called Shadow Rider. Maybe tomorrow, they'll finally prove their family still has its place on the track—if they can even keep it."

Laughter broke out among the watchers, savage and cruel. I clenched fists in my pockets. My face was calm, but my jaw ached from teeth grinding. My family's humiliation was entertainment.

I shifted my weight against the railing, pretending not to care about the remark, though my chest burned. I turned my heel

"Very broody tonight, Shadow."

My breath caught. That voice—smooth, low, infuriatingly amused.

I moved slowly. Jace stood there, closer in front of me than I'd realized, leaning against the same railing, his hand around the metal just inches from mine. His body heat brushed against my arm. The crooked smile that twisted his lips brought my heart to a stutter.

"Didn't know you cared enough to notice," I said flatly, moving back, though not far enough.

He arched an eyebrow, eyes sweeping over me in gradual, deliberate assessment. "Hard not to. Tomorrow's a big one, isn't it?" His smile widened. "Eighteen. Now legal. And yet, I'm still going to blow you off the track—again."

Heat crept up the back of my neck, half anger, half the way his voice went deep on the word legal. My lips curled into a challenge. "Again? You mean last year, when you nearly ate my dust before your daddy's rider forced me off the road?"

Jace's low laughter curled beneath my skin. He moved in close, his shoulder brushing against mine, the blow of his breath against the side of my face. "Excuses. You'll always be behind me, Shadow."

My heart was pounding. He was too close, overwhelming, intoxicating. I laughed, tilting my head that little bit so that my lips would all but brush against his cheek. "Keep dreaming, Nightowl. Tomorrow, you'll be gagging on my smoke."

For a moment, his smile faltered. His eyes darkened, narrowing, scanning down to my lips before snapping back up into mine. I thought he knew about my disguise. The space between us crackled with energy.

I gulped hard, my throat dry, but I did not look away. My body did betray me, though—my hands trembled fractionally at my sides, so I curled them into fists to quiet them.

He saw it. His smile reappeared, wicked this time. Jace leaned in and smoothed a nonexistent hank of hair out of my face, his knuckles brushing my cheekbone, slow and deliberate. "Feisty tonight. I like that."

My stomach did a traitorous flip. I swatted his hand away, making myself sneer. "Don't touch me."

"Or what?" His voice dropped, a challenge infused with something hotter.

I hated him. I hated the way his fingers made my skin crawl where he'd placed his hand. I hated the heat pooling low in my belly.

And yet…

His words pulled on a memory I'd buried deep. Eighteen. My father's voice echoing in my mind: After your eighteenth race, you'll be free. No more masks. No more lies. You'll finally be yourself.”

The notion nagged at me, weak hope in a steel cage. Tomorrow, somehow or other, this charade ended.

"Eighteen doesn't intimidate me," I said tightly. "If anything, you should be afraid. Last race? I'll make sure you never forget it."

Jace's smile spread, slow and menacing, a wolf prowling in to pounce. He leaned in until his lips were an inch from my ear, voice dropping and becoming rough. "Oh, Shadow… I don't think I'll be forgetting you. Not now. Not ever."

My heart thudded so hard I thought it would explode from my body. The smell of leather and smoke and something irretrievably coiled around my senses.

Then he pulled back just far enough for me to see the glint in his eyes, his smile, threat and promise.

"Prepare yourself, Shadow. Tomorrow, I won't just beat you. I'll own you."

" Is he attracted to male” my subconscious asked and I didn't know what to answer but that fire in his eyes tells me everything. The power to break or make me and it fuels something dangerous in me.

“We will see who is going to be owning" I said, squarely my shoulder to touch him. The spark gives me butterflies in my stomach but I maintain stability.

“I like the fighter spirit. Shadow" he said softly, his hot breath combing my neck. I struggled to maintain my composure and I blinked my eyes. He saw it and smirked

And so he edged away from the railing, slow and deliberate, each step backward pulling my heart along after him.

I was stuck there, fists clenched, gasping like a fish out of water, heat still tracing up my skin.

Damn him.