Prince Charming (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 9) Read online

That was it? That was the only assurance?

  She might as well kiss her money and any hope goodbye.

  It was cold and she wanted to go home.

  God, please let this work.

  Hanging on by a thread for months, she didn’t know how much more strength she had left in her emotional bank.

  Turning to leave, she heard, “you came here alone?”

  A shiver crept down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the weather. She carried on walking.

  “Hey, I can give you a ride.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Thankfully, she heard him climb into his car, and a minute later he passed her on the street. Marianna was in a daze on the way back into Armado Springs.

  Finding herself outside of the gym without knowing how she got there.

  Only, she knew she needed one thing, and it was inside.

  The place was hopping as always.

  Boxers sparring.

  Hitting bags.

  Using the skipping ropes.

  She didn’t give but a second of notice to anyone else as her feet took her to the back office, hoping he was here.

  She must have looked like a whirlwind all but throwing herself through his door because Tag’s perfectly styled head lifted. His eyes on alert as if expecting trouble.

  “What’s wrong, Anna?” He jumped to his feet. She held out her hand to keep him there. He was too big, too everything that affected her. Needing only to look at him for a moment. “Nothing is wrong.” She answered.

  Though everything was, wasn’t it? Nothing was right.

  Except this man.

  This man felt right on a level which scared her.

  She’d stopped believing in good things a long time ago.

  Love didn’t play a part in any fantasy.

  But here he stood, with serious hooded eyes, ready to slay any dragon chasing her.

  His scarred beauty radiated seduction and danger. A deadly combination intoxicating her. Desire crept through her blood and caught her unawares.

  The best kind of thrill rushed along her spine.

  And then he smiled. Enough to let her know he had a vague inkling what made her rush through his door like she had a tornado up her butt.

  She supposed she had done that. But the urgency in her underwear dictated she got to him quickly.

  Throbbing. Demanding attention. Distraction.

  He was good at that.

  And she desperately needed his brand of distraction to empty her mind of everything but the pulsing pleasure only he could give her.

  Tag didn’t have to do a thing to get her shaking. He existed, and she reacted.

  Standing so tall with his ribbons of arm veins on show, the leather of his MC cut pulled tight over his wide chest. An imposing man. Effortless masculinity.

  He was insanely potent and made her head swim.

  “Tag.” She spoke around her dry tongue.

  “Something you want?”

  Yes. So much.

  His stare burned. It beckoned her forward. That invisible dominant rope he had around her, tugged hard.

  Answering him, she nodded, biting on her lip.

  He knew. Because she watched his features turn animalistic before her eyes. Nose flaring, teeth bared. His veins tightened. And she held her breath. Wanting.

  “Coat off, lock the door, then get over here.” It wasn’t a request.

  His rough timber was cool enough to melt her burning need.

  “Anna. Now.” He growled.

  Hurrying, she swallowed her squeal when his hands came to her hips, dragging her forward and he deposited Marianna on the desk directly between his spread legs.

  He didn’t wait.

  Buttons popped on her jeans. The zipper opened, and he slid the material down her legs, helped by her when she lifted her bottom.

  Their eyes clashed, burned hotter.

  Tag’s hands spread her legs wider, exposing her. His thumb ran up the crotch of her cotton panties. He must feel how damp she was when he obscenely pushed the material between her sex lips, finding her clit throbbing for his touch. The panties were gone in moments.

  It didn’t even occur to Marianna to feel shy. Not with him. He made her feel so many other things. Womanly and wanted.

  The moan fell from her lips as she became soft all over.

  This was an elixir. Taking her from her own head.

  A minute, she needed only a minute of Tag.

  Please, please. She silently begged.

  Somehow he heard because he dragged her to the very edge of the desk until her legs dangled over his forearms.

  Tag pressed one kiss to her inner thigh, another to her mouth. She moaned and arched for more, but his head had already dropped.

  And then he consumed her.

  It was a feast.

  He went in, one hot slurp after another.

  A knife-edge, electrically charged pleasure swelled through her. The burn of friction where they touched—where his mouth sealed to the most sensitive part of her caused her to tremble.

  She was sent into the atmosphere instantly. Legs shaking, panting his name, her hands found his hair and pulled hard when he grunted. Her pulse was running away too fast for her to catch up, skin prickling all over. Oh, god. Oh, god. This was everything.

  This was what she needed. Being taken away by a very giving man who knew where to intimately kiss to make her moan.

  “Christ, darlin’, you went over quick. You needed it, huh?” The smug smile radiated out of each word.

  Aware she was whispering his given name over and over, clutching his shoulders and hair. She was shaking and vulnerable in that moment and couldn’t have accepted anyone else to see her that way, only him.

  Tag wasn’t satisfied delivering only one body-shaking orgasm.

  Marianna was barely breathing when he lifted his head, licking his lips. He had more in mind when he didn’t wait a second to push two fingers deep inside her.

  So full, she swallowed her cry of pleasure.

  “Lift your shirt.” He demanded, more animal than man.

  She did it automatically with fingers that wouldn’t work properly. Pulling her bra cups up too and was glad of it when he nosed along the underside of her breast before he latched his wet mouth on the very peak. Sucking.

  Sucking so hard, she saw stars and moons.

  The silkiness of his tongue, the dimmed hint of his teeth, was the right amount of pressure to send pleasure to her curled toes.

  Skilled fingers worked her up into a frenzy. In and out. Deeper and longer.

  She forgot where she was and went where his passion led her.

  In this heady second, she knew she’d follow Tag into the darkness and be happy there.

  “Beautiful girl.” He praised, “sweet little pussy breaking apart for me.”

  God, he was dirty. It was perfect.

  Tag’s wicked fingers curled and stroked until she was mindless.

  Before she was ready, he threw her into a climax so hot it shook her from the inside like a nuclear attack, until she was only soundless cries.

  Her clothes were a mess, her body was dripping, and Marianna moaned when Tag scooped her onto his lap. Then he pressed his mouth to hers, she opened instinctively. Melting into the way he lavished pleasure around her tongue with sweet attention.

  All his kisses felt brand new.

  She felt drunk and reborn, rolling her hips to fix herself against his hardness.

  “Feeling better, Anna?” He groaned against her lips.

  “Oh, yes. Very much. You were exactly what I needed.” She first said in Russian then repeated in English. His rumbled laugh made color heat her face.

  She didn’t deserve him.

  That much she knew.

  Her limbs were useless, and she stood while Tag put her back into her clothes and then cuddled her close.

  “You came to me.” He spoke with his mouth pressed to her hammering throat pulse. “My good girl.”

  Marianna c
huckled, feeling shy and cared for.

  “What about you?” She asked, not for the first time. The gun-like hardness was digging into her thigh. She wanted him to demand things from her too.

  Too scared to take the initiative herself. Too scared to keep giving him pieces of herself when she was already torn down the middle.

  Half here. Half not.

  It was easy to want more from Tag, to want to give him everything too.

  She was afraid to want more in case she had to leave him.

  “Don’t you worry about me, darlin’.” He answered gruffly. “When you want me inside you as hungry as I want to be there, you can let me know.”

  Damn, did she dream this man to life?

  She nuzzled in for a second and he held her tighter, running his nose slowly along her neck. What did she smell like to him? His scent always rushed straight to her erogenous zones. He smelled of cedar and breezy days. He smelled of smooth whiskey and bonfire smoke. She buried her face in his hair and inhaled, knowing to take as much of this moment with him as she could before it was over.

  And it would be over, wouldn’t it? Eventually.

  She’d have to leave Tag behind.

  Or he’d tire of her and move on.

  The other woman… Sofia… played on her mind now she was coming down from her high. Maybe he’d get back with her or someone else.

  But she’d never forget.

  Tag was a rare, unforgettable man.

  One she could build a lifetime of memories with.

  If only.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “I’ll settle for groping under the mistletoe.” -Tag

  Making sure the prospects did what they were told, was like trying to corral toddlers.

  Tag growled and grabbed Dix by the scruff of his neck, shaking the younger kid to get him to calm down. “Pump your damn brakes, you wild dog, if one of those fists catch me, I’m gonna put you on the ground.”

  Breathing like a dragon with blood pouring out of his nose, Dix came to a slow halt. He ripped away from Tag’s hold to drag his forearm over his nose, leaving behind a red stain on his sleeve.

  Tag turned his narrowed gaze on the other guy.

  Judge looked less battered, but not by much.

  They’d wrecked furniture in the main room.

  The punks were lucky they hadn’t upended Zara’s Christmas tree.

  Their MC queen took the festive season seriously as herpes. Rider would crack skulls if anyone upset her. Being quite the formidable old lady, Zara would undoubtedly crack skulls herself.

  “Don’t care what got in your girlie feelings. Or if you were fighting over china patterns, who the fuck knows with you kids these days. But it stops now. I got too much to do without mediating idiots who can’t use their big boy words.”

  Rubbing at a bruise along his jaw, Judge stared at Dix who was hissing in return.

  The only time prospects got a say in the club was when they switched out their prospect cut for a patch.

  Until then, it was do as I say, not as I do.

  They were to treat the clubhouse as if it were their own mama’s living room.

  Any show of disrespect, or insubordination while on a trial period—which could last from 6 months to 3 years, depending on what progress he showed—resulted in a warning. Two warnings and that prospect was cut loose.

  Dix was already on a warning.

  He’d been fighting more for dumb reasons, no one could get through his attitude to find out why.

  Because Tag was in charge of these little fuckers, it meant he got to know them and what they could handle.

  Over the past year, he’d noticed Dix changing.

  Rider decided last year, Dix wasn’t ready for the patch.

  Everyone came to the club differently.

  Judge walked through the doors the first day and it was as if the kid was made to wear the cut. He’d thought the same about Dix, until recently. There was no doubt about Dix’s loyalty and trust. But as for him wanting to be in the club… debatable.

  “If you two have real beef, you bring it to me, and we’ll sort it. But if you’re only letting off steam, then it doesn’t come to the clubhouse, you get me? I said, do you get me?”

  “Yeah, Boss.” Judge replied.

  “Yes.” Dix said sullenly.

  It wasn’t hard to see he was struggling to rein himself in.

  Tag bent his head to see the color of his eyes. “You okay?”

  Everything Dix was doing lately said he wasn’t as interested as he once was in getting patched in.

  The guy shrugged and Tag put a hand on his shoulder, then turned to Judge, who was a lot less hot headed in that moment. “You have bigger shit to be concentrating on, not getting into scraps. Next time it happens, you’ll be on a warning.”

  “Got it, Boss.” He strode off and Tag turned to Dix. “You got a problem, Son?”

  “Nah, just sick of this shit.”

  “What shit?”

  “Everything.” Then said, “can I go now?”

  Emotion, wild and poisonous like a batch of crystal meth, looked back at Tag through Dix’s blank eyes.

  Being Snake’s sponsor, he wondered if he knew why Dix was screwing up lately.

  Young and stupid but keen as mustard not so long ago, he needed to harness his impulsiveness if he wanted the patch. A prospect needed to be relied on to do anything. Sometimes guarding an old lady. Right now, Tag wouldn’t trust Dix to watch a pot of piss.

  “Yeah.” Tag answered. “You wanna talk, come find me.”

  Now the ruckus was over, he switched his gaze to the reason he’d dropped by the club and flashed a smirk to Marianna.

  He’d got his girl to his MC.

  She approached, but looking at Dix, holding a medi-box kept behind the bar.

  “Let me see your nose.” She told the younger guy, who looked a little in awe of her.

  Tag didn’t blame him. She was fucking stunning.

  But she was also his woman.

  “I’m fine, ma’am.”

  “My name is Marianna. Now stop being a child and let me look at your nose before you bleed a river on the floor. Sit down on this stool.”

  Tag chuckled under his breath, watching Dix fall under her spell as his ass hit the stool.

  She fussed over him like a mother, chastising him for fighting, cleaning him up. Luckily for Dix, nothing was broken.

  “I think you’re gonna put the Butcher out of a job, darlin’.”

  “He is your doctor, da?”

  “Yeah, he patches up these kids when they get into scraps.”

  “You should spar with Tag if you have excess energy to dispel.” She advised.

  “Everyone knows who I am.” She’d protested when he’d told her he was bringing her to the clubhouse. After a lot of kissing until she softened with dreamy eyes, he let her know no one would mention shit to her. Not here five minutes, and she was taking care of one of their boys.

  “Maybe you wanna help with my energy.” Dix smirked. Tag swerved his head so fast the thing nearly popped off his neck. “Get out, you shit, before I snap you in half.” He got gone, laughing.

  “So this is your little club.” Marianna remarked.

  “Yeah, what do you think?”

  Tag had never wanted a woman to like anything as much as he wanted her to approve of the club. Arm around her waist, he caught the VP looking over. His ever-faithful sidekick, the Frenchie, sitting like a royal mutt on Hawk’s lap.

  “It is cozy.” She said finally and Tag chuckled. Now that was a first. But he’d take it.

  Holding her hand, he introduced her around, finding her fascinating as she tried to hide her shyness. Even more fucking adorable. She tilted into him for support and the sick pup he was, got off on it. He kept hold of her when he talked with Rider about the prospect. Rider told him, “do what you think is right.” Which meant Tag could give the kid his walking papers if he thought there was no other way to get Dix’s head on right.
/>
  “I do not want to celebrate Christmas,” she insisted when Tag helped Marianna into his heated truck. The crosser she looked, the dirtier he wanted to make her until she was mewling on his tongue.

  “Tough,” he answered.

  “Tag.”

  “Marianna.” He counted in her same tone. Reaching over he brought her hand to his jean clad thigh, heading out of the three club gates and onto the main road. He had a plan for days now, and no moody Russian beauty was going to spoil it.

  If any woman needed Christmas, it was his woman.

  “I know you feel guilty, darlin’.”

  “Then why are you insisting on this when you know I do not want to take part in anything festive?”

  “Because you need it. Something that’s just for you. Not all decisions are the right ones, but you tried and you’re still trying for your family.” He stressed.

  Christmas Eve came around fast.

  Deep in training for his next fight, but it didn’t mean he’d taken his eyes off her. He’d noticed ever since she rushed into his office, wanting his mouth on her sweet little pussy, how withdrawn she’d become.

  If he could have one Christmas wish, it would be to get her kids to her.

  All wasn’t lost, but he wasn’t about to get her hopes up.

  Grinder had contacts in every part of law enforcement and his guy - off the record - said if she were to go through normal channels, applying for citizenship, claiming asylum through false imprisonment, they’d want to know every little detail of the Bratva’s organization. And without proof, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be prosecuted.

  “You’re allowed to have something good, darlin’. Let me give the good, you don’t have to do anything but enjoy yourself.”

  If he hadn’t looked over, he would have missed her silent tear tracking down her cheek.

  “Fuck,” he cursed, pulling the truck over to the side of the road. He unclipped her and dragged her into his lap. “Don’t cry, Anna.”

  She all but fell into his chest, clinging tightly, finally letting him see her emotions. “I miss them so much, Luke. My heart hurts all the time.”

  Oh, baby. He stroked the back of her head, lowered his voice. “Be strong for a bit longer, Anna. You can do it, you’re the strongest woman I ever met. You’ll be with your kids again.”

  If it were the last thing he did, he’d make it right for her.