Malice's Possession(9)

By: Jenika Snow

As if her body was working without her control, she took a step back, and then another one when she saw three men round the corner. They stopped when they saw her, and although she felt lightheaded, as if she might pass out, Adrianna did not meet the floor. She drew upon her reserve of strength and pressed forward. Instead, she looked into the almost savage face of the biker that was in front of the other two. She could see other men move behind the bikers currently blocking her only way out, but for some reason she didn’t feel fear, like she assumed she would have. She was apprehensive, and of course endorphins pumped through her body as she tensed, but that was a natural and automatic reaction. The man in front, only a few feet from her, was possibly the biggest guy she had ever seen. He wore one of those leather vests that she had seen the local biker gang have on when they rode through town. The patch on his left side stated he was the Sergeant at Arms, whatever that meant. She didn’t know him, but what she did know was that he was dangerous. That she knew without a doubt.

He took a step closer, and she moved one back. When he held up a hand, almost in a nonthreatening manner, she stopped. “Easy now. You’re safe here.”

His voice was so deep that a slight shiver worked its way through her body. She glanced over his impossibly wide shoulders and saw there were now five men standing behind him. They all watched her with this hard composure that didn’t give anything away, and when she glanced back at the biker right in front of her it was to see he wore the same stoic expression.

“What’s your name?” His voice was deep and low. He might be trying to appear nonthreatening, but given his size and the fierce look on his face, it just wasn’t working for him.

He had to be at least a foot taller than her five-foot-three frame, and the muscle he was packing under the leather, cotton, and denim had her throat tightening. God, the size of his hands alone had her thinking that he would have no problem crushing whatever was in that massive grasp. His arms, holy hell, his arms were thickly corded with muscles, too. And why was she checking him out like this?

“Your name?” he asked again.

She snapped her gaze up to his face, one that had dark, trimmed scruff covering his jaw, and looked into his eyes. Even from where she stood she could see that his eyes were this odd shade of grey. “Adrianna Carmine.” She breathed out and then licked her lips. She saw him run his gaze down the length of her body, stop when he got to her feet, and he stared at them for a suspended second. “Who are you?”

It took him several seconds to answer her, and the longer he stood there staring at her, the more nervous she became. “Malice.”

Malice? What kind of name was that? He must have seen the confused look on her face because he answered her unspoken question.

“Trevor Mason, but I go by Malice.”

Adrianna didn’t want to know how he could get a nickname like that, because it seemed violent and dangerous, and implied he probably had done some pretty bad things. She nodded and licked her lips again.

“You’re going to cause more harm than what has already been done.”

Before she could respond he was right in front of her. She had to crane her neck back just to look in his face, and the scent of leather and something dark and spicy filled her nose. Her heart was beating this fast and hard rhythm at having him so close, but for some reason she couldn’t move away. And then he had her in his arms as if she didn’t weight anything at all, and was striding back into the room she had just come from. She should have kicked and screamed for him to let her go, but all she could do was stare at his face and keep her mouth shut. She hated that he had this strange control over her, but she also couldn’t deny the instant relief she felt now that she was no longer standing.

“Marx, send the doc in.” He called over his shoulder without missing a stride. Once back in the room he set her on the edge of the bed and took a step back. He was staring at her face, and she noticed he seemed very tense. Another man came in a minute later carrying a black nylon bag. He didn’t look much older than thirty, and although they hadn’t said who he was, Adrianna knew he was the doctor. He was too clean cut to be in this biker club; that much was clear by his button down oxford that was this weird shade of green, his cream colored Dockers, and his brown leather penny loafers. He looked like he should be teaching in a university, or giving consultations behind his desk. What he didn’t look like he should be doing was hanging out with a bunch of these rough and tough motorcycle men that were twice his size.

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