Page 55

“Ignore him,” Roxy says beside me, reaching across the table for the toast.

“Nobody ever does,” he growls, his tone getting even lower.

A boot catches Wreck beneath the table hard enough to knock his knee sideways, and he shoots a glare toward whoever kicked him while stealing another piece of bacon as if nothing happened.

My eyes follow the movement to the man sitting two chairs down, and recognition hits before I even get a proper look at him. There’s something reptilian about the stillness of his face, and when he turns toward me, dark scales shift beneath the skin at his throat before disappearing under his shirt collar.

Coil.

My hand drops toward my boot before I can stop it.

His gaze follows the movement, one eyebrow climbing. “Really?”

“You dragged me through the woods.”

“And yet here you are, alive, eating bacon… you’re welcome, by the way.”

I stare at him over the rim of my coffee. “For which part? The dragging or the death threat?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

“Coil,” Roxy warns, though there’s enough amusement in her voice to tell me she’s probably said his name exactly like that a thousand times.

He shrugs, reaches for the coffee pot and pours himself another cup.

Charming.

A grunt comes from farther down the table, followed by the scrape of a plate being dragged closer. The man responsible is fucking enormous, shoulders wide enough to take up most of his end of the table, dark hair falling around a face that looks like smiling would cause him physical pain. He catches me looking while shoving half a piece of bacon into his mouth.

He raises his chin at me. “Maul.”

I wait for the rest, but he keeps chewing.

Apparently, that’s all I’m getting.

“He likes you,” Wreck says around a mouthful of toast.

Maul lifts one hand and gives him a two-finger salute without even looking over.

Wreck nods toward him. “See? Practically family.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it, and Maul’s eyes flick briefly toward me before he goes straight back to destroying breakfast.

Okay. Maybe I will survive this.

“Something funny?”

I turn toward the voice and find another biker watching me from farther down the table, a coffee mug resting in one hand. There’s a faint amusement in his expression, though I’m not entirely sure whether he’s laughing with me or at me.

“Just getting used to the company,” I tell him.

“Yeah, that’ll take some doing.” He takes a drink of his coffee, completely unbothered by the look Maul shoots him.

I glance at the others around the table before looking back at him. “So, what’s your name?”

He lifts his arm slightly, drawing my attention to the sharp thorns protruding from his skin.

“Thorn.”