Chris

Chapter 1 “f**k me, already.” Ava Marie Donner glowered at the rider beside her. “Why should I?” she retorted, eying the cub up and down. “You feel like losing your balls to my daddy’s claws?” The d**k, a new prospect by the name of Edison, just grinned in response. “I’d run the risk.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not my mate.” “And you’re staying pure for him?” Edison demanded, his grin turning lewd. “It’s none of your business if I am or not,” she retorted snidely. “Whatever the hell I am doing, it won’t be with you.” “Ain’t I strong enough for you, princess?” Edison growled, kicking the hog’s stand down. “No,” she told him bluntly. “I’m the Clan Leader’s cub... what do you think?” Edison’s cheeks, still round with youth, turned ruddy with the humiliation he felt at her words. “I could take your daddy.” The statement had her barking out a laugh. “You could, huh? I’ll tell him the next time he’s looking for someone to spar with. Or, do you think you could Challenge him now? Maybe take him on for Prez?” The red that had so swiftly appeared drained into a pasty white that had her lips twitching with a derisive amusement. It was unusual to have one of The Nomads MC actually approach her. Sure, they looked often but they never touched. They usually valued their lives more than that. Her daddy was the biggest, baddest bear in the MC. Still in his prime, he’d survived three Challenges alone last year, so Edison’s posturing was ridiculous to the extreme. There wasn’t the slightest chance that he’d win. Striding away from the bikes she’d been eying with envy, she headed from the bike shed where Edison had caught her and back to the clubhouse. Mischa, the mate of the club’s VP, Kiko, appeared out of nowhere. Her Slavic accent was still present even though she’d been in the States for over twenty-five years now as she murmured, “Do you wish me to talk to Kiko about him?” Ava shot Mischa a look. “I can handle him.” “Why waste energy on it?” A very Slavic shrug came next. “He’s hardly prospect material if he’s coming onto the Prez’s only child. Moron,” she finished with a sniff. “Let Kiko sort the wheat from the chaff.” “He could be good for the club He’s just thinking with his dick.” “When don’t they?” Mischa retorted with a grimace. “Still, he’s more of an i***t than most.” Ava couldn’t argue with that. “No. I’ll see how I get on, then I’ll talk to Kiko. If he doesn’t lay off, I know what to do. Don’t worry.” “Good.” The satisfaction in her tone had Ava smirking, but the smirk died a quick death as she grunted, “There’d be no wheat to sort if Kiko got rid of all the prospects who pester me.” Mischa grimaced. “True, but they just gawp. He approached you. The boy’s an i***t,” she declared. “For the moment, he deserves to keep his balls—as you so rightly said, Mars will take them from him for pestering you.” She laughed at the memory. “Did you see his face?” Mischa grinned. “I did. From bright red to pale white. You handled yourself well, babushka.” Ava dipped her head for a moment, then shot Mischa a grateful smile. “Thank you for not wading in.” Mischa’s grimace was rueful. “It was hard not to, but I heard your argument with your mother the other night. How could I intervene when it causes you such upset when she does?” “I know she means well, but...” “She’s your mama, babushka. She’ll always try to watch over you.” “In human years, I’m an adult now. I shouldn’t even be living here. I should be living on my own.” Mischa snorted. “Tell that to your papa.” Ava sighed, but it wasn’t an overly irritated one. She’d long since come to terms with the fact life would be easier if she stayed at the clubhouse until her mate Claimed her. Whenever he decided to get around to it. Damn him. God, she longed for a house of her own. A place that her parents didn’t see as an extension of their own den. What was it about mothers anyway? No matter where you hid the vibrators, they seem to have some kind of weird ability to find them. Grimacing at the memory of her mother’s face when she’d come across Ava’s favorite vibrating butt plug, she confessed to Mischa, “They’re driving me crazy at the moment.” Though, she wasn’t sure why her father had given her permission to go through her room. The lock on the door was supposed to keep the Clan out, including her mother. Yet, she found a way in anyways. “It’s all the new prospects sniffing around you. They’re just concerned, that’s all.” She placed her hands together like she was praying and mumbled, “Thank the Goddess I was gifted boy children, not girls.” Ava chuckled. “Thanks!” Mischa shook her head, eyes twinkling. “You know what I mean. Boys are hard enough, but girls? You and Jessie drive half the men insane with your hormones.” Ain’t that the truth. Before Mars, her father, had met her mother, Annette, the MC hadn’t had a mate bond in the Clan house. They’d never experienced the weirdness of having unmated adult females in the den. It was discomforting to the extreme to know that the entire clubhouse was aware of her cycle. They had more fights and Challenges around those times of the month. It was a blessing that such close living had synced up the daughters’ cycles so it only happened once a month. Jesus, if it happened twice? Ava wasn’t sure the men would have survived it. Mischa tucked her arm into Ava’s. “Do you want some borscht? It’s ready.” “Only if we have sour cream.” Mischa snorted. “When don’t we have sour cream when I’m making borscht?” The bizarre purple soup was a staple of the clubhouse. In fact, the whole Clan ate Slavic meals at least four times a week as Mischa oversaw the kitchens. For a woman whose parents were American, she knew more about Ukrainian fare than some fourth-generation Ukrainian immigrants! “A big bowl,” Ava said with a pout. “I only got a small bowl last time.” “You were lucky to get that.” Mischa kissed her cheek. “I saved you the bowl.” “I know. Thank you, Mischa.” She nuzzled her temple against the other woman, finding and giving comfort with the small gesture. “You’re the best.” As they walked down the hall toward the kitchens, Ava wondered why it was that her closest friend in the den was her mother’s age. Jessie on the other hand was a pain in the butt. Two years younger than Ava and born to a Council member, she’d always been a nuisance, and the boys born to her father’s other Council members were equally as irritating. Jaden and Kon, Mundo and Christie’s twins, were the eldest and the least annoying. As the three eldest, they’d always been the closest, but since they’d turned prospect, she barely saw them as they went off and worked on MC business. As her father was approaching his third century, he was, quite frankly, a chauvinist. She knew the man had been around when corsets were considered the height of fashion and people spoke about the Civil War as in the recent past, but did he have to be such a jerk about it? Though Ava wanted nothing more than to be a prospect, to do what Jaden and Kon did, what Gin and Cal would do next year, she couldn’t. Instead of riding the hogs she loved, she had to ride a desk. It didn’t help she had her mother’s head for admin work. It didn’t help that she could manage the clubhouse with her eyes closed, and that she surpassed her mother’s skill with that task. Admin simply wasn’t what she wanted, though. She huffed a sigh when Mischa toddled off to the hob. Watching as she grabbed a bowl and ladled off a huge portion which she anointed with a swirl of sour cream, Ava smiled as she placed it on the counter before her. Taking a seat behind it, she murmured, “Thanks, Mischa.” She got a wink in response. “I saw your gloomy face this morning and knew it would cheer you up.” “Was it that obvious?” she teased, spooning up some of the beetroot soup and sipping at it. “Not to most, but you know I can always sense your moods.” Strange that Mischa could and her own mother couldn’t. Glumly, she grumbled, “I wish you couldn’t. I wouldn’t wish my moods on anyone.” “We both know why,” came the knowing retort from Mischa. “What can I do?” she asked after another mouthful of soup. “I can’t make him Claim me.” “I don’t understand how he’s held off for so long,” Mischa countered, shaking her head as she leaned over the counter. “I mean, Kiko waited a Godawful amount of time for me, but Chris is being ridiculous now.” “He says he’d be a pervert to Claim me at my age.” Mischa grumbled, “Men and their pride.” “The b***h of it is, my dad would probably agree.” “Waiting is doing neither of you any good,” Mischa argued. She stood upright and headed for the fridge. Grabbing two bottles of water, she passed one to Ava before opening her own. “Did you see him last cycle?” Her and Jessie’s periods were officially known as ‘the cycle’. She’d ceased being mortified by such a collective awareness of her menstrual rhythm. There was only so many times a woman could blush at the irreparable. “Yeah. He was bad, wasn’t he?” She grimaced at the memory of him almost getting into a fight with one of the older prospects who he’d caught flirting with Ava. He’d punched his fist into the wall and Pip, Major’s mate and the Clan’s healer, had had to heal him. She’d watched her mate have his bones magically reset and hadn’t been able to approach him. Not to convince him the flirting had been one-sided as his glowers had made her surmise, nor to simply hold his other hand as Major’s mate, another of her father’s Council, healed him. Mischa scoffed. “Bad? Understatement, babushka. He can’t take much more, surely?” “I don’t know what he can take, frankly. He stopped talking to me a long time ago.” She firmed her jaw at that, but emotion overwhelmed her and her spoon clattered against the bowl as she dropped it. It took her a few deep breaths to get herself in line again. “That might be for the best,” Mischa told her softly. “If he’s not willing to Claim you yet, then staying out of your way keeps the peace.” She took a sip of water. “I don’t understand how your father doesn’t know Chris is your mate. How he hasn’t seen is beyond me.” “Chris is good at hiding it. And he’s made me hide it for so long, I am too.” “It’s not fair on either of you.” “What can I do? I can’t make him Claim me.” If she had that ability, she’d have been his since her eighteenth birthday. Clan lore was ridiculous in that it said children only matured after forty years. Even at fifty, they were still considered cubs, just more mature than the youngest kits in the Clan. Yet, they sent their kids off to human schools. The disparity between maturity was insurmountable. To be raised among kids who were considered adult at eighteen and who left home shortly after, while the cubs had no choice but to return to the den to be swaddled...it was, quite frankly, unbearable. “It’s such a shame he’s as old as he is,” Mischa complained. “There would be fewer issues if you two were closer in age.” At ninety, Chris wasn’t exactly old in terms the Clan was used to. But the age difference was a problem for him. Not for her. But she knew it would be an issue for her parents which was why she’d understood his desire to wait for her to mature. Mars was incredibly strong as a Clan leader. Few were stronger in the country, and though he didn’t rule the MC with an iron fist, he definitely was in command and no one could mistake it. Chris, thanks to his business acumen, was on the Council. The MC had many fingers in many pies; something her father had instigated before her birth. The Nomads were nationally renowned now. Not as a Clan, but as an MC. They had their own breweries with award-winning brands of beer and ales. They even had f*****g merchandise.