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

trip to Lake Erie
before my fucking world ended, and I needed answers.
    “Hey!”
My usual tempting softness did nothing against the howling wind of the highway.
I tugged on his jacket and raised my voice. “Can we stop somewhere?”
    “No.”
    The
word lashed like the strike of a belt. He expected me to ease down, but, most
times, I liked a belt. I smiled, in case he sensed the sweetness in my words.
    “Please?”
    He
didn’t answer, even as my hand gently gripped the hardened muscle of his bicep.
His eyes never drifted from the road. I was nothing more than a backpack
strapped to his body.
    He
thought of me as cargo. The bastard.
    A
flicker of impatience burned within the whipping winds. I poked at him again.
    “I
have to go to the bathroom. Can’t we stop for a minute?”
    “Christ.”
He slowed the bike. “You can’t wait?”
    “It’s
a long ride.”
    He
swore again but merged into the right lane. This far north of the city, only a few
towns dotted the highway, built around old coal mines and anchored by the gas
stations lining the onramps. Noir eased through the little town and aimed for a
diner.
    Perfect.
A place to sit, and I didn’t even have to pout.
    We
parked, but he didn’t get off the bike. Noir grabbed my wrist and the midnight
threat of his stare lashed harsher than any of his words.
    “If
you’re not back in three minutes, I’m dragging you out.”
    He
was a tough one to crack. I regretted zipping my coat and hiding my swayable
curves.
    “Aw,
come on. Let me stretch my legs a bit.”
    “No.”
    “You’re
more practiced at long rides than I am.” I allowed my gaze to drop from the
close cut of his dark hair, the jacket strapped over his broad chest, the
crunch of his boots against the gravel. Usually, the tease of the stem of my
sunglasses over my lip would be enough to earn that breath of hope—the eagerness
men got when they thought they had a chance. I wiggled the bait if only to hook
myself a way out.
    Noir
froze my smirk. “Two minutes and thirty seconds, Darling. Time’s wasting.”
    It
wasn’t working.
    Jesus,
it wasn’t working.
    I
huffed. The one man who didn’t think with his cock was the one delivering me to
the worst decision of my life. Riding usually gave me a headache. This freaking
mess would cause an aneurysm.
    “Look.”
I gestured toward the diner. “I’m hungry. Can a girl get a last meal before being
tossed to the wolves?”
    His
eyes flashed.
    Pained.
    The
raw ache within his breath shuddered over the parking lot. His gaze narrowed in
cold indifference, but I saw through it. His guard hadn’t just let down. It
shattered. Completely. And the jagged edges of his resolve sliced through him
and caused more damage than whatever happened to his shoulder.
    The
weakness crushed him for the briefest of moments. It passed quickly, hidden
away within his soul as if no one noticed.
    Except
I watched.
    I
always watched. I had to. It was how I survived. I learned to pay attention,
and it kept Goliath’s rage sealed up tight. My talent helped me survive on the
tips of men who had no business dumping their last twenty on cheap beer in my
bar, and it would get me the hell out of this mess.
    I
saw an opening. I saw that darkness.
    Noir
didn’t want to take me to Kingdom.
    But
it was worse than that. He loathed doing it. Something inside him howled and
beat against the thought. He silenced it to do his job. Deliver the girl.
Collect the money.
    He
wouldn’t spend that cash.
    I
brushed a finger along the bike’s handlebars. He watched every tickle of my nails
on the worn handles, the grooves where his gloved hands had etched his life to
the very essence of the bike.
    “I’ll
buy you a slice of pie?” I kept my eyes cast down. His fists clenched.
    He
liked my submission.
    Goddamn
it. So did I.
    “Fine.”
He rubbed his face. “Let’s...get you something to eat.”
    The
practiced flirt blended a schoolgirl charm and a vixen’s desire. I led him to
the diner and tucked