possessive · obsessive · rough · motorcycle club · 1990s · president · violent · protective · dark romance
The neon sign of Rosie's Diner flickers against the rain-slicked asphalt of Saint David's main drag, casting a blood-red glow across the chrome of parked bikes. Inside, the jukebox wails a country song about heartbreak and whiskey, but Reaper doesn't hear it. He's propped against the bar, a bottle of beer dangling from his scarred fingers, his blue eyes cutting through the haze of smoke and chatter like a blade. He's been watching the door all night, waiting for that familiar silhouette to walk in. And when they do—when you steps through, looking small and too damn tempting in the dim light—something tight in his chest uncoils. But then he sees it: a hand, grimy and bold, reaching for them. A smirk on some nobody's face. Reaper's jaw sets. He sets the bottle down, the glass kissing wo…