Chapter 1

Jax

Blood gushes from my nose as I raise my hand and knock on the navy ornate door. A hiss escapes my mouth. Right. My three fingers are broken. Two or three of my ribs probably as well.

You don’t enter a bar and you don’t tell the locals they’re brainless.

The front tyre of my bike is smashed. I have no fuel. I’m in the fucking middle of nowhere.

I knock again.

Woman, have a heart.

I’m sure as fuck an old woman is the owner because the house is old and it’s a bungalow. The garden looks like it’s been materialised straight from a fairy tale and the hill offers a view over a small village with five more houses made of grey stone.

Young people don’t live in such shitholes.

The owner is a good granny and she’ll give me food and shelter. It’s fucking freezing. My teeth chatter together and my toes numb. I have no phone because the locals smashed it before they had thrown me out of their bar. I’ll die if the granny doesn’t open the door.

I bang on the door. “Hey!”

I hear somebody’s timid footsteps at last. The granny must be old and dry. Such grannies love looking after young people.

I know because I’m a Nomad. I ask good grannies for accommodation and food. For a job sometimes. They never disappoint me. More than that—they love me like I’m their grandson. They’ll chat to me and bake for me. I’ll repair the roof of their house in return. That’s always a good deal.

The door creaks open. The light pouring from inside blinds me for a split second then I fix my eyes on the woman standing in the doorway. Fuck me. She’s not a good granny—she’s a beautiful young woman—a queen with long dark hair that cascades down her back and front like a waterfall and with a mouth that was created to be wrapped around my dick forever. A queen who’s been crying. I see delicate redness around her coffee brown eyes and under her nose. That only makes her look more beautiful to me.

And sweet Jesus, her curves are perfect—her large breasts almost pour out of her black top and her generous hips exposed by her black leggings plead for my hips to rub against them.

She’s a bit taller than me, but that’s not a problem. When she’s on all fours for me, everything will be just perfect.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her voice seductively low and warm.

My jaw drops. What the fuck does that mean?

“Your parents know you are here?” she continues.

I see genuine concern in her eyes.

That’s my fucking chance to enter her house.

“Can I use your phone, ma’am?” I ask. “I had an accident and I lost mine. My parents must be dying of fear about me.”

I look young but all the bitches I meet never mistaken my age, which is twenty-two.

“Come in, sweetie,” the woman says and steps back. “I’ll look at your face. Your nose is bleeding.”

She sniffles, and I stifle the urge to wrap my arms around her. Something warm sprouts inside my chest.

I enter the house and close the door behind me.

The woman slides her eyes over me, and I see fear in her gaze.

Athena

I’m blind without my glasses or contact lenses. I thought he was just a kid. He looked like a kid in the dark outside.

Now I’m facing a man about twenty years old, his face wearing the sings of a fight.

“I just need a fucking phone,” he says, “and a few hours of rest.”

“Okay,” I squeak.

I’m so stupid.

You don’t allow any stranger to enter your house, kids or not.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says. “Relax, sweetheart.”

His voice has an interesting raspy tinge as though he’s a rock singer. He looks like a rock star—long blond hair, tattoos on his forearms. My eyes flick over the front of his t-shirt and I see an inscription that says ‘Deadly Crows’. He has a leather cut thrown over his t-shirt. His jeans are covered in blood and his boots are covered in dirt.

I can’t respond.

My hands start to shake, and I feel dizzy.

“You’re not gonna faint?” he asks and grips my arm. “I’m a good guy, okay?” He leans towards me. “Breathe.”

“Your blood is dripping onto my chest,” I shriek.

“I’m clean. Don’t worry.” He stretches his neck muscles and grins like a contented predator. “And we’re not gonna use any condoms. I’m gonna cum in your ass.” He flashes me another grin that makes my legs wobble and my tummy fill with heat. “You’re really pretty. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“For you, son, it’s just ma’am.”

“I can make you feel good, ma’am.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Three shots of vodka and two beers. I can manage.”

I chuckle. Yes, chuckle. He’s so sweet.

And so dangerous.

I’m a stupid lonely woman whose foggy, deprived of sleep brain can notice only the sweet part of him.

“What’s your name?” I ask and after the last word leaves my mouth, I want to punch myself in the face.

“Sasha Jackson Holme, ma’am. But they call me Jax.”

“Jax?”

“Yes, Jax.”

He winks at me and leaps at me. I manage only a sigh as his lips slam on mine.

“You’re really pretty,” Jax says and howls like a wolf.