Page 107

Then the change moves through the room fast.

Scar looks up from his drink as Raze leaves the bar, and whatever smart-ass comment Ruckus had ready disappears when his pool cue lowers slowly to his side.

Behind me, Echo gets to her feet and catches the back of my shirt, her fingers twisting into the fabric. I reach back without looking, finding her hand for a second before letting go because the brothers are already closing in around us.

Maul appears at my left shoulder, Wreck coming in from the other side after abandoning the pool table, while Thorn shifts closer from near the kitchen. Nobody says a fucking word or needs Raze to tell them what to do. One look at those doors opening by themselves and the whole club moves together, spreading out across the room.

Roxy closes her ledger and rises as Scar moves back toward Cali, his hand finding hers and drawing her closer to his side. Sentinel comes up beside me at the same time, the usual bullshit gone from his face as his attention locks on the entrance.

Within seconds, the room that was full of laughter and shit-talking has turned into a wall of pissed-off supernatural bikers waiting to see who the fuck thinks they can walk into their clubhouse uninvited.

Heat pushes through the open doorway, rolling across the floor and climbing fast, turning the clubhouse thick and uncomfortable as sweat breaks across the back of my neck. My hellhound reacts immediately, hellfire stirring beneath my skin as something old and familiar reaches straight into the part of me that came from the same fucking place.

I know this heat.

More importantly, my hellhound knows it.

His claws push beneath my skin as the temperature climbs another few degrees, and beside me, Sentinel’s wings shift hard beneath his cut.

Fuck.

The bastard finally steps through the doorway, black eyes sweeping across the clubhouse like he has every right in the world to walk into Kings’ territory.

Malgrave.

The doors swing shut behind him with a heavy thud, while my fists curl at my sides.

I really hate this asshole.

My hellhound goes rigid beneath my skin. Not a snarl, not the surge of heat that usually comes with anything crossing our territory uninvited. Just that same dead stillness from the first time, like something ancient in the base of him recognizes exactly what’s walking through that door and knows better than to announce it.

Here we go again.

Malgrave crosses the threshold with his robes dragging against the floorboards, gray skin pulled taut over a face that’s never once looked like it belongs to anything that used to be alive. Those black eyes travel across the brothers blocking his path, taking his fucking time about it, before they settle on my throat like he’s checking a padlock he installed himself.

“Hellhound.” His voice slides through the room, unhurried. “I’ve come to assess the binding.”

Sentinel is already moving, his wings flexing under his shirt, close enough at my shoulder that I catch the static charge rolling off him. “Assess it from the door.”

Malgrave ignores him, those black eyes staying on me like Sentinel isn’t worth the effort. Then he lifts one gray hand and curls two fingers in my direction.

Come here.

My jaw locks. Every part of me wants to grab that fucking hand and break it before he gets anywhere near me again. My hellhound pushes hard beneath my skin, remembering exactly what those fingers cost the last time they touched my throat.

I look at Raze.

His face is tight, but he gives me a small nod.

I shove away from Echo and start across the room, every step bringing me closer to the bastard who ripped my voice out a week ago while my entire club stood there unable to stop him, while Malgrave waits.

He knows I have to come to him.

By the time I stop in front of him, my fists are clenched hard enough that my nails bite into my palms.

Malgrave looks down at me, taking his fucking time before his hand rises toward my throat.

My hellhound surges hard enough that heat flashes beneath my skin, every instinct screaming at me to tear his arm off before he gets the chance to touch me again. I hold still—barely. Then those gray fingers close around my throat.