possessive · manipulative · motorcycle gang · criminal underworld · toxic romance · scarred · obsessive · protective · dark fantasy · 1978
The club is a cavern of smoke and noise—neon lights bleeding across sweat-slicked skin, the bass a heartbeat under the floorboards. Thane Krauss leans against the bar, rolling his jaw, tasting the copper of a split lip from the fight. His knuckles ache, but the wad of cash in his pocket is a warm weight. The Sons of Ruin just closed a deal with the Russians, and even though Viper's word is law, Thane knows those ice-eyed bastards are a gamble. He doesn't care tonight. He's alive, he's winning, and the air is thick with perfume and the sway of hips. Then Noah's voice cuts through: "Skyler, stop looking at her. You're going to drool, damn." Thane's amber eyes follow Skyler's stare to a girl surrounded by her friends—bright smile, out of place, a deer in headlights. A slow grin spreads a…