Bow Before Your Plus-Size Biker Luna

Blood And Gasoline

Raven's POV

I didn't spend four f*****g years as a Nomad just to trade my father's silver leash for an Ironwolf cage, no, even if the Alpha holding the key smelled of salvation and s*x.

Kai hooked his arm under my knees, then lifted me up and carried me through the hallway as though I weighed nothing, which, okay, maybe my 200+ pounds meant nothing to a guy who probably bench presses a small car every morning, but still. The whole point was I never asked to be carried.

The point was that my ribs were screaming and my head was literally spinning so much from the bond fever and his chest was warm against my soaked skin, and I hated how much I actually didn't hate it.

“Hey, put me the f**k down” I struggled lazily, my voice coming out all breathe, weak and wrong.

“Definitely not happening,” he replied.

“Kai! I'm serious!” I gritted my teeth.

“Yeah. So am I”

He pushed the heavy steel door at the end of the hall with his shoulder and dropped me onto the huge oak desk that literally groaned under my weight.

The room screamed pure Ironwolf MC office.

Reinforced steel door, it had no windows except for a small barred one near the ceiling, and the strong stench of motor oil, leather and something that smelled distinctly of him coating every surface.

I gritted my teeth, then pushed myself off the desk and onto my feet, watching as he paced around.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't walk through that f*****g door right now” I snarled angrily.

Kai spun slowly, and when his eyes met mine, they glinted with this dangerous shade of silver that literally made my almost dormant wolf roll over and show her belly.

I shook my head, shoving that instinct down so deep it would need a f*****g map to actually find it's way back up to my consciousness.

“A reason? You want a reason?” He muttered, taking a step closer and I stepped back until my spine hit the edge of the desk. “Then, how about the fact that Dante Hawke is currently outside my front gate with over fifty men and a f*****g hard on for your blood? How about the fact that you literally showed up to my goddamn pack with Hellhound scars on your ribs and a dead bike and zero explanation…”

“Kai…” I tried cutting him off, but he held a hand out and continued.

“...how about the fact that I had to watch my first mate get torn apart years again just because I wasn't there to protect her, and I'll burn this entire compound to the f*****g ground before I ever let that happen again?”

As he spoke, his tone never rose against a whisper, but it was strong and loud enough to hit me hard like a goddamn punch to the chest.

Before even realizing that I had moved, I grabbed the tire iron that was leaning against the wall. It was cold and heavy in my hands, and probably useless against an Alpha, too, but at least it made me feel better.

“Move” I ordered, brandishing it as though I knew what I was doing. “I'm not your property, Kai. And I fight my own f*****g battles.”

Kai's head bobbed backward, then a dark, follow laugh which sent chills down my spine rumbled through his chest.

“You're my fated mate” he said, after he was fine laughing, each word felt like a nail in a coffin I didn't ask for. “And you were already put in chains once. I had to watch my first mate die, and I'll never watch another end up the same way”

“Well, I'm not her”

“No…you're worse” he muttered, moving so fast I didn't see him coming. His hand closed around the tire iron and yanked it from my grip like I was a little child playing pretend. “Because at least she knew when to f*****g run. And you? You literally ran straight into the lion's den and expected to walk out alive”

“I survived Kai…four years as a Nomad” I spat. “I survived Dante Hawke, I survived things that would have broken your precious, fragile first mate in half. So don't you dare stand there and tell me what I can and can't handle!”

Something wounded and raw flickered in his eyes.

“And you think I don't know that?” His voice cracked, but barely. “Although we just met, I know exactly what you survived, Raven. And that's what terrified me”

He slammed the tire iron back against the wall, grabbed my face in both massive hands, forcing me to look up at him.

“I'm going out there and I'll handle Dante with my men. You…you're going to stay in here where I know you're safe. And when I come back, we'll have a very long conversation about how you got in this f*****g mess in the first place”

“I don't answer to you”

“You will,” he half smirked.

“Let…let go!” I struggled.

“Stay. Put”

He finally released me and strode toward the door, and I wanted to throw something at him, to yell at the top of my lungs, to claw his stupid left face off.

But instead, I just stood there like some kind of pathetic i***t, shaking, as he pulled the heavy steel door open.

“I'm not some sick damsel in distress that you can lock in a tower, Kai” I called after him. “Trust me…many tried and failed woefully”

He paused, then looked at me from his shoulder.

“No,” he said quietly. “You're a goddamn hurricane. And I'm not about to let you go out there and destroy yourself just to prove you don't need shelter”

Then, he walked out and slammed the door shut behind him. The lock clicked and that made my blood boil.

I stood there for exactly five seconds after he left before I was moving. I claimed onto the filing cabinet, against the wall to peer through the little barred window that faced the compound gates.

The glass was cracked and dirty, but at least I was able to see almost everything.

Dante Hawke was lazily leaning against a custom skull-decal chopper, as though he didn't have a single care in the world, a little congrats dangling from his lips and a lazy smirk that made my stomach churn with disgust.

He was exactly how I remembered him, tall and huge and cruel in a way that had nothing to do with his size and everything to do with his emotionless eyes.

Two Hellhounds were dragging a struggling figure forward, some kid in the Ironwolf prospect cut who couldn't have been older than nineteen.

He was begging and screaming, tears streaming down his pale face. I watched Dante watch him plead for maybe three seconds before he pulled out a knife from his belt and slit the kid's throat like he was gutting a goddamn fish.

The blood splattered scores the desert dirt, bright red against the sand.

I didn't flinch or cry. Just watched with fury as the kid bleed out while Dante lit another cigarette and laughed at something stupid one of his men said.

Something inside me just…snapped.

These people were going to die just because of me. Kai's pack, his entire compound was about to be painted red just because Danger wanted some stupid revenge for what I had some years ago.

And I was supposed to sit in this office like a good little mate and wait for my Alpha to save me?

Fuck that.

I jumped off the filing cabinet, clenched my fists tightly, then kicked the office door with everything I had.

The lock held on for half a second before the hinges finally gave away and the door crashed to the floor. I didn't wait to see if anyone heard it, and just ran.

The main bay was chaotic, everyone scrambling toward the front gates, shouting and loading weapons and not paying attention to the soaked girl in a wet tank rop sprinting toward the back corner where her bike was parked.

My Harley looked even worse than I remembered, rust spots and duct tape and an engine that sounded like death rattling in a tin can.

I threw my leg over the seat and started hotwiring it, my fingers moving on muscle memory from years of doing this in shittier situations than this one. The engine coughed, sputtered once, then died.

“f**k…Come on, baby,” I muttered. “Don't do this to me now.”

I tried again. The engine turned over, wheezing and choking but alive, and I almost laughed with relief. The back alley garage door was chained, but a running start and a prayer got it open, and then I was gunning it into the desert darkness, the compound lights fading behind me.

For exactly three miles, I felt like I'd won.

The night air was freezing against my wet skin, whipping my hair into a tangled mess, and the stars stretched overhead like someone had spilled diamonds across black velvet. No Alpha, no Hellhounds. Just me and the open road and the illusion of freedom.

Then the carburetor choked.

The bike backfired so loud it echoed off the empty desert, and the engine seized with a grinding screech that made my teeth hurt. I skidded to a halt on a pitch black stretch of Route 66, nothing but sand and scrub brush in every direction.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

I tried the ignition…nothing. Tried again, still nothing.

The desert went dead silent.

Then I heard it. The low, synchronized rumble of a dozen custom choppers vibrating through the asphalt, growing louder by the second. Headlights clicked on from the brush surrounding me, blindingly bright, and I threw my arm up to shield my eyes.

They came from everywhere, every direction.

I drew my hunting knife, the silver blade gleaming in the harsh glare of the Hellhound headlights surrounding me on all sides. The rumbling engines cut out one by one. The heavy stench of rotting blood and rogue wolves suffocated the desert air.

From the center of the pack, Dante Hawke stepped off his bike.

He didn't look angry that I had crippled his brother four years ago. He looked absolutely thrilled.

He walked toward me, his boots crunching on the gravel, a jagged, rusted blade twirling effortlessly in his hand. He stopped ten feet away, tilting his head as his cold, dead eyes scanned my thick frame, my Nomad cut, and the knife shaking in my grip.

“Don't kill her fast,” Dante whispered to his men, his voice carrying a promise of agonizing, endless torture. “Skin her.”