Thump! Crack! 

“Argh!” 

“Evva Castillo! What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Evva’s best friend, Giselle, stood at her bedroom door. 

Giselle’s eyes widened, snapping to the pieces of colorful wood all over the floor. Ten seconds before, Evva had done her best pitcher move and threw the box against the wall, cracking it on impact. The delicate wooden case was a gift during her last birthday from her father. 

Father, hah! 

He’d gone ahead and put her in such a position that royally screwed her. How could he think that marrying her off to some man she barely knew was a good idea? All for a stupid merging of the packs. 

A growl built up her throat. She gripped the glass penguin he’d given her for Christmas, ready to add it to the pile of rubble on the floor. 

Evva flipped a long curl over her shoulder and stuck out her bottom lip. “Did you miss the conversation downstairs? The one where I casually found out about marrying what’s his name—Chip something or other?” 

“Dale Rasmussen,” Giselle winced, rubbing her hands on the sides of her jeans. “I know it’s hard to understand, but he’s a handsome guy who’s stepping up as Alpha of his pack. Doing this will not just be a solid way to unite the packs, but to ensure we thrive.” 

Evva rolled her eyes. “And what about what I want? I don’t know him from a can of paint. Come on. And that last name? Seriously? I hope they don’t expect me to take it. I can’t even say it right.” 

“It can’t be that bad.” Giselle stopped the maid at the door and took the trash scooper out of her hands. “I got it, Mayra.” 

Giselle shut the door to the room and headed for the broken mess. Why couldn’t she have said no? Heck, why didn’t she have the ultimate tantrum and tell him it wasn’t going to happen? Respect. Responsibility. She knew that her father only wanted the best for their pack and that meant she had to swallow her pride and abide by his decisions. Even if it meant losing the precious control she had on her life. 

“Stop that, Gigi. You don’t have to clean up after me,” Evva sighed, putting the glass penguin back on her nightstand. 

Giselle grinned and squatted down. “Well, you look like you want to hurl these pieces at the wall all over again.” 

“Maybe just a little,” Evva grabbed Giselle’s hand, stopping her mid-sweep. “Wouldn’t you hate to have the choice taken out of your hands?” 

Giselle’s shoulders slumped. “I would. I just think you’re going overboard with this. He’s a nice guy with a good pack. And come on, he’s hot. What else do you want?” 

Okay, so maybe Chip wasn’t fugly. He did dress impeccably with his tailor-made suits and hair perfectly in place. He kind of looked like a woman’s wet dream come true, but there was something about him that screamed weak. That alone was enough for Evva to forget all about his pretty boy smiles and not want anything to do with him. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to not be ordered to marry someone. To be allowed a choice. Now father has put me in a position with no other choice. There’s a contract in place. No tantrum or feelings will change a thing. He gave my word, and he knows I stand by my responsibilities.” 

“You’re your father’s daughter. The most precious and probably most spoiled pack princess.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

It was true. She was spoiled. Anything she wanted, she got. Being the daughter to a wealthy pack meant she was treated as a princess. Which was why she was so angry over being dictated to about something so important. Who cared if the groom resembled Mr. Big from Sex and the City? She wanted to make her own choice! 

Stupid pack laws. 

“You know you are, so cut it out.” 

“It still doesn’t make it right,” Evva grumbled. 

Giselle picked up the last of the broken music box pieces and stood. She gave Evva one of her teacher-type glares she gave the kids in her class. “You’re too big for tantrums. You didn’t do them as a child, don’t start now. It’s beneath you.” 

“Fine. So I should just accept all this and be miserable for the rest of my life?” she growled. Dammit, that’s exactly what she’d have to do. 

Giselle took a deep breath before answering. “Why not try to learn to adjust to your new life. Give it a chance. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. Dale seems like such a nice guy.” 

Evva snorted. “You’re just as bad as our other friends. All infatuated with Chip and his pretty-boy appearance. That’s not my thing, Gigi. I like my men to be harder. Scruffier. With the kind of face that will make you wonder if he’ll spank you or kiss you.” 

Giselle’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Where the hell do I find one like that?” 

Damned if Evva knew. 

She needed to get out of there. To breathe and forget all about that stupid wedding even if only for a few hours. Tomorrow would be time enough to get back to it. For now, she needed a few drinks and to get the hell out of the mansion. 

“I have an idea,” Evva tugged off the engagement ring her father had handed her on behalf of her fiancée, placing it in one of the drawers of her five-foot tall jewelry box. She didn’t dare shove it into one of the ones with her bejeweled toys for fear of Gigi’s reaction. Besides, a princess needed her bling. 

“What’s your idea?” Curiosity and a hint of excitement sounded in Giselle’s voice. 

“A girls night out,” Evva answered nonchalantly. “To say goodbye to my single life, but more importantly, to help me cope with this upcoming change.” 

“Wait, like a bachelorette party?” Giselle gasped. Hell. Gigi seemed like she might pass out. 

“No! No. Nothing like that. There will be no strippers. Maybe just a night at the bar going for a few drinks with the girls. You know?” 

“Oh!” Giselle slapped a hand on her chest. “You scared the crap out of me. You know your dad would kill us if he found out you’d gone and done something like that knowing you’re engaged.” 

What her father didn’t know… 

“What do you say?” Evva asked, hoping to encourage Giselle into agreeing. 

“Is that what you really want?” She sat on the chair across from Evva’s bed and frowned. 

Evva clenched her teeth, glancing down at her lap before lifting her gaze to meet Giselle’s. “No. What I really want is to choose my own husband, but since that was taken out of my hands. This is probably the next-best thing. I need some way to relax after the news.” 

Giselle nodded sympathetically. “I’ll get the girls together, and we can go out a last time to help you relax. Give me a few hours to get everyone.” 

“Thanks. I think this will at least help me unwind. Maybe even be more agreeable.” When she died. The poor bastard had no idea what he had coming. If he expected some docile wife, he should’ve married Giselle. Evva was so far from docile it was laughable. That’s probably why her father decided to choose her husband for her. She tended to give most men a run for their money with her sarcastic wit and sharp tongue. 

It didn’t matter. She needed some time away from her father. He’d made a decision without her input and that was something she had a hard time getting over. Tonight, she’d hang out with the girls and have a few drinks. Maybe even some fun. She knew there was no escaping her reality, even if just for a few hours, she could pretend she still controlled her life. Then she’d go off and do her duty to her pack. Her husband might hate her within a week, but she’d marry him. It wasn’t her fault he chose an alpha princess with a short temper for stupidity. He’d just need to learn to adjust to her ways. 

* * *

Evva would kill her friends slowly. Each and every one of them. How could they think for even a second that this bar filled with her father’s friends would be fun? 

She needed to get the hell out if she was actually going to be able to chill tonight and take her mind off things. First things first. Everyone had to be distracted, or they would notice her escape. She smiled at the other girls who would not— no matter how much she mentally begged them to—stop gushing over Chip and how handsome he was. 

She was pretty dramatic, but acting as if she were actually enjoying herself was turning out to be harder than she thought. Her smile kept slipping, and her brows wanted to dip down in a scowl. What was the obsession with Chip? He could double as a damn Ken doll. All perfectly put together. Any man who was prettier than her was not her type. 

“So, are you and Dale going on a honeymoon?” her friend, Ann, asked. 

Evva’s other cousin Lainie clapped excitedly and bounced in her seat. “Oooh! Yes, tell us about the wedding.” 

Frickin’ hell. 

What she wanted was to tell them to shut the hell up about Chip and his baby face or his perfectly cropped hair. The eye-twitch she was known for was going to be a dead giveaway on how angry she truly was. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the person on stage spoke. “Let’s begin our Karaoke night!” 

The crowd broke into screams and claps. 

Wonderful. She so needed to get out of there, yesterday. A light bulb turned on in her head. “Oh my gosh!” she turned to her friends. “Go sing Super Freak for me.” 

Giselle giggled and sipped on her drink. “You’re crazy.” 

“Come on! You know we used to sing that all the time while we were in college. It will be fun. I’ll be here cheering you on.” Evva grinned. Her cheeks hurt from how hard she tried to keep the smile going. Frantically nodding, she shooed them toward the stage. “Do it for me. It’ll mean so much.” 

Giselle smiled with genuine amusement. 

For a moment, Evva felt like the world’s biggest jerk, but then she remembered how Giselle would get to pick her own groom. Evva wouldn’t. 

“Alright,” Giselle agreed, and the women headed for the stage. “Come on, girls. Let’s give our bride to be a show.” 

Evva waited until they were busy answering the DJ’s questions before making a mad dash for the door. Her heels clicked on the pavement, drumming away the tightness in her chest and breaking the door to the wonderful freedom she’d wanted. 

Now, all she had to do was find a place to drink a little, or a lot, without any of her family or friends telling her what a wonderful thing it was to merge packs. 

Scuffling and voices sounded behind her. They grew closer. Louder. Adrenaline rushed through her, urging her to move her ass. She made a quick turn down an alley. 

Palms slick with sweat, she leaned against the back of the building, surrounded by darkness. God, she hoped leaning so close to a dirty building would keep her from getting caught. She didn’t want to think of the years of grime on the wall rubbing her bare back. 

After a few moments of holding her breath, she listened hard but didn’t hear anyone enter the alley. Then raucous laughter, music, and cursing drew her attention further into the darkness. She followed the sounds deeper into the alley and to a plain, metal door. 

She pushed it open and smiled. Now this was more like it. The room was dark, but she could still see clearly. One of the benefits of her nature. It was a bar, but that was where the similarities with the place she’d left her friends ended. 

There was a bar at one end of the room, true, but if any of the chairs crowded haphazardly around the tables matched, then she’d have been very much surprised. Several of them showed signs of repair, as battle-worn and battered as the tables they sat around. The floor underfoot stuck to the soles of her shoes as she ventured further in. There was a lot of leather on show. Not the cutesy, designer sort of leather she was used to seeing. This was more worn-in, worn-all-the-time leather that belonged on the back of a bike. 

Shit. She’d walked smack-bang into a damn biker bar. Blinking, she backed up a few steps. A girl like her so should not be in a place like this. 

She eyed them warily. Bikers, these sort of bikers anyway, were so far removed from her daily existence that they might as well be aliens. She caught sight of herself in a mirror on the wall opposite and forced her spine straight. She was Evva Castillo. She didn’t cower and run, not from anyone. Ever. 

Her walk took on a sassy sway as she made her way through the bar, checking out the talent. She’d always dismissed biker’s as hairy, old, and fat. Motorcycles being something men purchased during a mid-life crisis to try and reclaim some of their youth. Only, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on any of the men falling silent as she passed them. 

Hunger replaced the surprise in their gazes, but not one of them moved to intercept her. She eyed all the man-candy on display. What was this? Had she walked onto some film-set about sexy-ass bikers? Or perhaps she’d been hit by a truck in that alley, and this was her version of heaven. 

“Hey there, Princess. You gone got yourself lost?” 

She turned at the voice, almost running smack into the middle of a very broad, very male, very naked, chest. 

She peeked up, then up some more. The owner of that voice was nice—real soft on the eyes—but not what she was looking for. She hadn’t wanted a man. Not really. She’d wanted a way to get away from the pressures of the pack. "Why? Are you going to give me directions?" 

He winged an eyebrow up, the expression as scary as hell, but she held her ground. “Someone needs to, before a pretty princess like you gets hurt. Door’s that way, sweet stuff. I’d use it before someone takes a liking to you.” 

She was so out of her depth it wasn't even funny. Should she go? Hell yes. Was she going to? Not in this lifetime. "Thanks, but in case you didn't notice, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." 

“What Cuffs is saying, Darlin’, is that you walk now, or you’ll be walking funny come morning,” a new voice drawled behind her. 

She jerked around and had to crane her neck to stare smack into a pair of silver eyes. Holy hotness. Red, flashing, danger lights blinked on and off in her head. She swallowed hard, adopting a bored expression to cover her reaction. “That's got to be the worst pick up line I've ever heard.” 

“Princess, that’s not a pick-up line. It’s a warning.” 

Leaning back against a nearby table, his hands were on either side of his hips, his ankles crossed as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Like the rest of the men in the room, he wore black leathers, but his looked as though he’d been born to wear them. They clung to his legs like a jealous lover, hugging powerful calves and thighs before wrapping around slim hips. She swallowed and yanked her gaze away from his crotch. Unbidden, the line about a gun in his pocket came to mind, and amusement started to twist her lips. Amusement that faded as she dared a glance up at his face again. 

Dark angel didn’t cover it. He had a face worthy to grace any of the classical sculptures—masculine and virile. Mercurial, silver eyes filled with enough heat to power a steel mill stared right back at her. Long, black hair framed those perfect features, falling in loose waves around his shoulders that would make any woman green with envy. 

Perfect! She held in the urge to squeal. Finally, a man who didn't look like he'd been made from the cute-boy cookie-cutter-mold. Hell, whatever mold they’d used to make him probably broke at birth. 

She pursed her lips, adding a little sway in her hips as she put her hands on them. She had more than her share of curves, but she was damn hot. An expensive gym membership hadn’t reduced the body she’d been gifted with at birth, but it had given her figure a little boost and the stamina…she could give any man the ride of his life, and she knew it. 

“A warning? Damn, and here I was hoping it was a promise.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder, turning as if to leave. “Too bad. I guess I’ll just have to go and find some fun elsewhere.” 

Fun? She must be losing her mind. Where the hell had that come from? She’d been looking for a place to relax without having to worry about what her family might say. Possibly drink herself into stupidity and forget her upcoming nuptials. Fun hadn’t been in the cards. Until now. She didn’t complete the turn, a hard hand on her arm spinning her around. Off balance, she yelped and grabbed the nearest thing, which turned out to be a pair of hard, muscled upper arms as she was hauled against tall, dark, and sexy’s body. 

“If it’s a fun time you’re after, Princess, then consider it a threat, a warning, and a promise all rolled into one.” He smiled, the quirk at the corner of his full lips taking his face from impossibly handsome to panty-wetting-fuck-me-now-ness. “I just hope you can keep up.” 

Her mind dropped straight to the gutter and made a home there. Keep up? He'd have a hard time getting her off him once she got to touch all those lovely muscles. She was definitely going into no man’s land. She shouldn’t be talking to that dangerous shifter much less baiting him, but she couldn’t help herself. He was hot. Oh, so hot, and the way her body reacted to his proximity wasn’t something she was used to. Her temperature had shot out of orbit. Liquid fire melted her to the core.  

She wanted him, which was damn inconvenient. It wasn’t like she’d decided to go out searching for a man or a one night stand. But now that he stood there, in all his muscled and tattooed glory, there was no way she’d pass up the chance of a wild and crazy night with a biker. Tomorrow she could go back to reality. Right now, she wanted to forget all about everything but getting her hands on him. The sooner, the better. 

"Is this going to be all talk? I'm growing kind of bored." 

* * *

Bored. 

Razor had to blink as his brain processed her reply. Bored? The girl was crazy. She had to be to come in here dressed the way she was. The black dress clinging to her curvy body was obviously expensive, and he recognized the fact that her shoes and bag were designer. A legacy from his beloved family. A princess indeed and she’d walked right into the gutter with her nose held high. 

“Boring you, am I?” His lips quirked wryly. Good thing she wasn’t a mind-reader. She'd run screaming at some of the darker thoughts swirling around his brain. But that wasn’t his immediate problem. 

The interest from the men around them pushed against his skin like the hot wind on the subway. Chatter had died down to a minimum now, and the tension was palpable in the air. His heart sunk. Shit. There was no way she was getting out of here, no matter what she thought about the matter. The Devil Riders were the roughest and most dangerous motorcycle club in the state. Hell, probably the whole damn country…and that reputation hadn’t been built without good cause. 

Unlike other MCs, not one of the Devils were human—unless Peach, the half-Fae watching from the back of the bar, counted. Since the guy was homicidal at the best of times, Razor seriously doubted the human race wanted to claim him as their own. 

Right now, she’d walked into Hell and High Water—the Devil’s bar—which meant she was fair game. He flicked a glance up and confirmed that they were the center of attention. Every man, even the ones with laps occupied by Kes and Fliss, the club whores, had their attention on him and the princess. Fuck, even Scales was watching from the back, the dragon-shifter’s eyes the bright gold of his beast. Adrenalin surged through Razor hard and fast. Even though his patches included one that said ‘President’, if Scales wanted to claim the girl, even Razor was going to be hard-pressed to stop him. 

No. Mine. Ours! His beast roared from within, the creature pacing. The outburst surprised him. Unlike some of the other shifters cast out from their packs on the whim of an alpha, Razor was alpha. Through and through. His control of his beast was complete. Mostly. Except for when a soft and curvy princess was wrapped in his arms. 

Her hands smoothed over his upper arms, the interest in her eyes flaring into her scent, and he breathed deeply. Shit, under the expensive perfume that crawled up his nose just to piss him off was another scent. One far earthier and primal than the stuff she’d sprayed on herself. 

“You’re a shifter?” He growled, just remembering to inject enough human into his voice to avoid a full-on snarl. 

Her grip on his arms tightened just enough to show his question surprised her. She really had no clue what she’d walked into. She scanned the room again with renewed interest. Then met his gaze, her eyes bright with her animal’s glow. Despite the danger, she took a step closer. “And if I am?” She lowered her voice and inched even closer. “Are you going to call the dog pound on me?” 

“No,” he growled, letting his beast flare in his eyes for a second. “But I might call a fucking vet if you can’t smell the danger you just walked into, Princess.” 

She licked her lips and grinned. “Maybe I like danger.” Her perfectly arched brows slowly lifted. “Or maybe the big bad biker is really a little scared.” 

That did it. A warning growl rumbled from the back of his throat. Shit, he was losing his grip here and fast. That hadn’t happened since the night he’d left home for the last time. “I don’t think you get it, Darlin’. This isn’t the sort of danger you play with, and then go home to your ivory castle in the Hamptons.” 

He yanked her closer, rolling his hips to make his point. His leathers weren’t that fitted, but more than tight enough for her to feel the hard bar of his cock pressed up close and personal. 

“This is the sort of danger that see’s you flat on your back, a cock impaled so deep inside you you’ll be spitting cum for a week, and a shifters mark on your neck.” He was deliberately crude, hoping to scare her off. He prayed he did because she had to walk out of here. Now. Before she caused a fucking riot. 

Her lips formed a perfect O and her eyes widened. A breath later, she inhaled. “Where do I sign up? Or should I speak to one of the other gentlemen here?” She made a move to step away. “I want some fun. You either provide it, or I'll find someone who will.”