Brianna (Shadow Wolves MC Book 2), страница 1
Table of Contents
Shadow Wolves MC Book 2
Copyright © 2017 by Daniela Jackson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents:
I will find my wife. And when I do I will punish her. I will have her in every way. Hard. Fast. Without mercy.
I’m madly in love with my husband but there’s no fucking way I’m going back to my old life.
This book is intended for mature audiences. Explicit and dark content that may not be suitable for some readers.
Thank you to my husband.
You read my drafts, you read my books, you love them, and you love my characters. Axel is you, Zane is you, Dreven is very you. Thank you.
I’m going to marry a stranger in about half an hour. Nobody asked whether I wanted to or not. Why would they? It’s just business and I’m for sale.
A balmy breeze kisses my forehead as I wipe the tears rolling down my cheeks away with my fingers. The high neck of my Victorian mourning gown scratches my chin. Sweat pricks my skin.
My eyes sweep over three gravestones reflecting the bright sun’s rays, glittering as though a dust of diamonds adorns them. The one in the middle belongs to my mother. But, the coffin in that grave is filled with the decaying remains of another woman. My father’s wife Dasha, to be precise.
Only my father, Kolya his bull, our family doctor and I know the secret.
My mother is a sleeping beauty. She’s been in coma for over ten years, hidden in one of the bedrooms in the house called Chaviva that lies behind me across the garden. The white tent spread to accommodate the wedding guests stands in front of Chaviva’s back wall.
My father’s cold voice tears me out of my thoughts. I rise from the narrow ornate bench and turn around.
“It’s time,” he says.
His face does not betray any emotions, as always. Samael, they call him. Lucifer would suit him better in my modest opinion.
I think I hate him. He’s arranged my marriage. I will be the wife of a member of the Shadow Wolves MC. I only met Zane two months ago. He’s their vice-president. We talked for ten minutes and I haven’t seen him since. This marriage is supposed to make my father and the club allies.
I move towards my father and loop my arm through his.
“This is not a funeral, Brianna.”
“Almost,” I say. “It’s my wedding.” Sarcasm coats my voice even though I’m scared of what the future will bring.
“The boy will be good to you.”
“I know, papa.”
I know how important the agreement is for him. He wants to build an army. That’s why he needs the Shadow Wolves. He respects them and wants them on his side.
One day, Dasha’s family may find out that my father killed her. They may come for us. Daddy wants me to be safe and there is safety in numbers.
My opinion doesn’t matter. It has never mattered.
“Either you will marry him or you will join the monastic order as one of the nuns,” my father said to me. He didn’t joke about it. “Or I’ll hide you in a psychiatric ward. The choice is yours.”
“I will marry him,” I said.
Nobody defies Samael.
We walk through the metal gate fitted in the wall of greenery that separates the burial ground from the garden and then we move towards the white tent extending like a dome over the tables. The music and the wedding guests’ chattering blend and drone on monotonously.
“Reyes would have approved this marriage,” my father says quietly. “She would want you to be safe.”
“I guess we’ll never know what my mother really wanted for me,” I say. “She doesn’t want to wake up, huh?”
My father raises his forefinger at me and butterflies fill my chest. “Don’t. Ever.”
What a fucking hypocrite.
My mother was the love of his life, but he never married her. He married Dasha instead.
“A business necessity,” he said to me as I asked him about it at the age of twelve.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say in a dry voice.
“It’s for your own good, Brianna.”
I stifle my urge to say ‘fuck off’ and nod at him. He raised me like I was his legitimate child not his mistress’s daughter. I should be grateful for his twisted fatherly love for me.
But I’m not.
I wanted a normal father, normal family, and normal life. Instead, I grew up as the daughter of the local Mafioso who has killed more people than I can count on the fingers of two hands.
We go across the tent, meandering among the tables and my eyes travel to the altar built below the balcony of the house. It resembles a pergola; white translucent fabric and flowers create an image of an Elven construction in my head. The priest leans towards Zane and discusses something with him. Axel, Zane’s broth
Axel is the president of the Shadow Wolves MC. Initially, my father wanted to offer me to him to seal the alliance, but Axel loves another woman so Zane volunteered to take me. I’m lucky. Axel would have killed me during our wedding night. I saw that in his eyes when I met him for the first time. He is mad about that little girl who stole his heart. And he is a ruthless killer.
Zane sacrificed himself to seal this fucking alliance with my father and now we’re going to stand at the altar. Holy shit. My heart races so fast it’s painful.
Lizzie, our maid, appears out of nowhere and hands a bouquet of red roses to me. My eyes slide over her. She’s a victim like me, a classic example of the Stockholm syndrome. I feel pity for her even though my father treats her decently.
She will die soon. She will die like all the people who happen to meet my father. It’s just a matter of time.
My brother looks tired, his face greyish like he hasn’t slept for many nights. He’s lost weight. He’s trying to drink himself to death. He punches someone in the face at least three times a week. He has offended every woman in the town, except Ma.
That’s all because of the mess with Sive. He fucked up, but now everything is sorted. I will marry Brianna and he could marry his Sive. It’s that simple. Except Sive doesn’t want to have anything to do with him.
I hope they find a way to be together. They are like two fucking soul mates, after all. They belong to each other.
“Axel,” I say as I notice Samael and Brianna at the beginning of the aisle between the chairs. “Focus.”
He looks at me, but I know he can’t see me. He can only see Sive who’s sitting in the first row with my parents. Ma corrects the masterful braid made of Sive’s hair and Dad pats her shoulder. They adore her. Sive is like a daughter to them.
“Axel,” I growl.
“Fuck off,” Axel snaps.
The priest shoots us an alarmed glance with his pale blue eyes and threads his fingers through the storm of his grey hair. He corrects his clerical collar and clears his throat. I decide to focus on my bride standing with her father between two flower urns under the arch of greenery.
She must hate me. She’s wearing a black mourning gown, after all. I like her sense of humour, though. I also like her tits and her face. She is beautiful in an original way—her black eyebrows run asymmetrically, adding mystery to the coal-like gleam of her eyes, and she has a cute little nose. Her full lips fill my mind with dirty thoughts—it’s the mouth every man wants to have wrapped around their dicks forever.
The music starts to play and butterflies fill my chest. My bride is indeed a beautiful woman. She could win every beauty contest. Her dark hair creates an image of dark soil steeped with rainwater in my mind. Her eyes burn with anger, evoking my urge to tame it, ideally, with my naked bride on her stomach beneath me. Her large tits plead to be squeezed by a man’s hands. My hands to be precise. I will give those tits a lot of squeezing and massaging at the earliest opportunity. I wonder whether her olive skin will be soft to touch. It will be. I just fucking know that.
Something strangles my throat.
I’ve always wanted to have a beautiful wife and four kids. I also want to have a small house filled with love, laughter, and trust.
Brianna doesn’t seem like she wants the same. She looks like a wild animal caught in a trap. Samael literally sold her to my club. The benefit of that transaction is mutual. My club has survived the war with the Cobras and Samael has the allies he’s always wanted. Only Brianna’s lost everything—her freedom, her life, and her dignity.
I will be good to her. I didn’t make any sacrifice. I only benefitted. Who wouldn’t want such a passionate woman by their side? I first met her over two months ago and spoke to her for a few minutes but the fire inside her enchanted me entirely.
Brianna sacrificed herself so I will make her life safe and happy in return.
I steel myself as Samael leads his daughter towards the altar. I’m so fucking nervous that I want to puke. The black wedding suit I have on feels like a heavy casing and the collar of my white shirt feels like a tightening noose around my neck.
Axel has his cut on like all my brothers. The women’s bright satins and silks make them look like flowers among the cuts and jeans of the boys.
The priest starts prayers. It sounds weird because he’s from the Catholic Church. I had to go to confession and attend Mass earlier this morning. Not that I found it difficult or something. It was just weird. I’m not religious. I kind of believe in something bigger somewhere in the universe, but I’ve never been in church before.
Brianna stands beside me and winces as though she’s going to throw up at any moment. Well, very fucking romantic.
“Hi, you dwarf,” I say and nudge the side of her chest with my elbow.
Brianna gulps and looks at me like I’m a naughty little boy. Right. Joking during the wedding ceremony is not allowed.
I’m twenty-three. She’s twenty-six.
A thought crosses my mind. What if she doesn’t like my touch or my cock?
I’m even more nervous. As soon as the ceremony ends, I will need to ask Axel whether I should be gentle or rough with Brianna during our wedding night. I want to pleasure my wife, make her feel comfortable and safe. Make her like me at least.
My sweaty hands ball into fists and my heart pounds.
Brianna looks straight into my eyes and I feel like a snap of lightning has coursed through me.
My legs wobble. My muscles are so taut that they start to ache. The priest has just pronounced us husband and wife. Shit. Now the kiss. Our first ever kiss. When I met Zane two months ago, he kissed the back of my hand and I liked it, but that doesn’t count.
Zane smiles at me, bends his neck forward and presses his lips against mine. A tingle runs down my spine as his long dark hair tickles my face. Holy shit. He can kiss a woman. I melt at the touch of his hot mouth against mine. My heart leaps. Butterflies fill my stomach. Then a wave of disappointment rolls over me as those kissable moist lips tear away from mine. Wow, I could kill for his kiss.
Zane smirks at me, his grey eyes shining dangerously like the ocean’s fury during a bad storm, and my hand jerks up to the sack attached to my waist. Pain courses through my chest as though an arrow has pierced me. Doubts follow, but I kill them.
My glance flicks over the animal beside Zane. Axel glances back. His cold furious eyes bore through me. I repeat in my mind that I should stay away from that animal and never cross his path because it would end badly for me. I hope he’ll sort out this shit between Sive and him because that will make him hate me less. I’m scared of his hatred. It could put me six feet under.
A hot sweaty hand clasps mine and my glance shifts to Zane’s eyes.
“We’re married,” he says and grins at me.
“Shit, we are,” I say. “Like really married.”
Zane chuckles as his fingers entangle mine. My sweat merges with his. I tear my hand away from his and rub it against the hem of my dress, which makes him chuckle again. He grabs my hand, and I stop caring about the sweating or anything else. His hand holding mine fills me with a strange calm. For a brief moment, I feel strong like never before, united with Zane. We’re in this ridiculous situation together, after all.
He is a tough man, but his boyish gaze radiates with honesty. I can see now that he’s as nervous as I am. Warmth washes over my heart.
What if I was just an ordinary girl and he was just an ordinary guy?
We would go on a date. We would fall in love with each other. We would be happy.
“Now the pleasant part,” Zane says.
“The food will be really good, I promise,” I say as we saunter towards the tent, passing the guests who cheer, clap, hoot and howl.
“I can’t dance,” Zane says in a matter-of-fact to
I chuckle. “I’ll teach you.”
Our noses touch for a split second, and he strokes mine.
My God, he is sweet, but his unshaven face is dangerously handsome. Sadness coats me like a cold grey mist.
“I should have taken a dancing course or something,” he says and tosses back his hair.
The gesture is so effortless but so sexy at the same time that my insides heat up and melt.
“I’ll guide you,” I say. “I had dancing classes my whole childhood. It’s easy.”
I hope that I don’t sound like an overconfident person because I want Zane to think that I’m a nice girl. Woman. A nice woman. Shit. I’m older than him. The thought that Zane could see an old woman in me causes an unpleasant flutter to surge through my chest.
“So guide me,” he says. “I’m all yours, sweetheart.”
Heat pours over my cheeks and my whole being stirs in a mixture of excitement and anxiety.
Axel has decided to ruin the most important day of my life, but I don’t blame him. I will ruin his wedding if he reunites with Sive at last.
We sit at the table and my brother mumbles a one-sentence speech beginning with ‘fuck’, ending with ‘fuck’ and with the word ‘happiness’ in the middle which makes the guests freeze with consternation, then he drops into the chair and buries his face in his hands. But that’s okay. The first dance concerns me more. The wedding night concerns me the most.
Not to mention that the bride’s guests consist only of Samael, Kolya, and their doctor. My guests are not very sensitive so no big deal.
But the wedding night? Yes, this is a big deal.
Brianna seems to be sad and shaky. I wonder whether I’m that disgusting to her. The DJ nods at us so we rise from our chairs decorated with white and burgundy fabrics, walk towards the dance floor and stand opposite each other. My wife holds my hand and wraps my other arm around her waist. I feel my throat tighten. I can’t dance for shit. It’s genetic in my family. No sense of rhythm at all and a dance floor phobia.
“You have to move,” Brianna says as she pulls back and I follow her like a ragdoll.
Her eyes fix onto mine as her lips part. I don’t know what has come over me but I lower my head and brush those plump lips of hers with mine. Fucking hell. I want to bite her lower lip, suck on it, and caress it with my tongue.