Exiled (Anathema Book 2) by Lana Grayson Read Free Book Online

idea what he was getting us into.
    My
stomach clenched as he approached. His expression hardened like steel, and the
sparks of his impatience scorched every part of me.
    “Get
on the bike.”
    I
couldn’t resist. I could never resist, as if I didn’t know exactly what a bitten lip and bump onto my tip-toes would do.
    “But
you were so insistent earlier.” My tease thickened the air like honey. “Change
your mind?”
    He
ignored me. The offered helmet was shoved into my hands. A reprimand.
    “Get
on the bike. Now.”
    He
fit within the seat like the Harley became an extension of him. Not how
Goliath’s ride sunk and creaked and sputtered with a bad starter and a hundred
extra pounds coiling the suspension. Not how Red punished each and every mile
he stole from the tires.
    Something
forced Noir onto the road. He sat poised, like he was born on the bike, but his
jacket had no patches or emblems of home. He lurked like an exorcised ghost—no
club, no identification, no proud display of strength to the world. The un-patched
leather unsettled me as much as the weapons lining his belt.
    I
slid behind him, adjusting my sunglasses if only to hide my concern. A man like
him had a home. Once. He didn’t learn to ride with such confidence without the
support of a club. So why wasn’t he there now?
    He
was running. I didn’t want to imagine the crime he had committed.
    This
was a bad plan. We weren’t even out of the parking lot, and already I learned
more from this man than a bottle of whiskey revealed from any other lost soul.
    I
held my distance, but packing wasn’t about elegance. I couldn’t force space
between us. Riding was intimate. I had to touch him, grip his shoulders, and
lean with him. I had to trust the man delivering me as a hostage to a rival MC.
    Except
this man didn’t deserve my trust.
    He
also didn’t deserve Kingdom’s retaliation if I decided to bolt.
    Every
part of me tightened as the bike started. Lost in a kick of dust, exhaust,
leather, and his spiced scent, I did as I was told and clung to him. He pulled
onto the street and ordered me still. I pretended like the obedience insulted
me, and I ignored how the pit of my belly pistoned just as hot as the engine he
flared.
    My
hometown wasn’t big, but somehow no one in Sacrilege ever found their way out.
My father. Me. Red. We weren’t lost, only aimless and waiting for the reclaimed
time and opportunity promised to the region.
    The
two red-lights on our main drag were surrounded by the shell of old brick
factories, closed up just tight enough to keep only respectable people out. We
passed more cars parked in used dealerships than actual traffic. But Jimmy’s on
the corner had good pizza. It was probably what kept three generations of my
family here.
    Noir
headed for the highway. I edged closer and tucked against him, bracing against
the chill. One hard turn way too fast for the chewed up pot-holes of Pittsburgh
fame and I clung to him as well. We bumped over a rough patch. My grip
tightened on his shoulder.
    “ Fuck !”
    He
jerked away. I fumbled against his back, but I balanced on rides far more risky
than his momentary wobble.
    “I’m
sorry!” I rested my hand lower instead, curling over his waist. “I didn’t
mean—”
    “It’s
fine.” I almost didn’t hear his mutter over the engine and wind.
    “Are
you hurt?”
    He
didn’t answer. Something got him bad. He rolled the arm, but his tension didn’t
fade. He was still riding. Either he was that goddamned tough, or the job paid
a hell of a good wage.
    The
thought curdled everything in me—my once iron stomach rusted and eroded. This
was all happening way too fast. The deal didn’t make sense, and my silent rider
delivered me too quickly to Kingdom’s supposed throne.
    It
ended now. Someone was going to tell me what the hell was happening. Something
passed in secret between Kingdom and Sacrilege that was valuable enough to
trade in flesh and shield in blood. We had a three hour