Title: Get Revenge
Series: Blood Legion MC #4
Author: Rie Warren
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: December 16, 2019
He made sure she’d never come looking for him. She vowed to hate him until her dying breath. When they meet again sparks fly, lust ignites . . . danger doubles down.REVENGE
I’m a bad biker dude with a serious chip on my shoulder. I’m also known for being an ex-con and most likely to be engaged in a spicy threesome with the Doublemint Twins. Everything comes to a screeching halt when a woman I betrayed shows up at Blood Legion MC.
There’s no frickin’ way Arden high and mighty Prioleau belongs anywhere near the Thunder Road Bar. There’s no frigging reason for her to be looking for me. She’s cool, calm, and cultured on the outside, all seething anger and undeniable sexiness on the inside.
Arden is a glorious redhaired vixen with one giant ask—she wants my help to take down a man I’d rather dismember than share a drink with.
ARDEN
Revenge isn’t even his real name, but he doesn’t want anyone else to know who he really is. I guess I can’t blame him. I wish I could change my identity too if only to get away from the maniac destroying my life.
Revenge is the last person on earth I’d ever expect to rely on. He’s my last chance. My final hope. And that isn’t saying all that much considering how we ended.
Now I’m not so sure what I’ve gotten myself into. Revenge is hardened and even hotter than I remembered. He’s a black sheep with a checkered past. A dark horse who’s dirty as sin.
It turns out my knight in shining armor is a leather-clad biker I’ve known most of my life and have spent the past few years hating with a fiery intensity.
As Gabriel—who now called himself Revenge—greeted folks in a friendly manner, I couldn’t deny he was gorgeous. His lips had always been perfectly masculine, sculpted in a divine way. Even now that he was more hardened, the ruggedness only served to heighten his virile appeal. The tats completed the picture of a confident man, and everything about him was new but familiar at the same time.
He tugged my hand once more, bringing my arm up to curl around his neck as his body began to move.
Zydeco was usually fast-paced, hard-grinding music. As luck would have it, Gabriel chose to guide me out onto the crowded dance floor to a song that cast a slow burning spell.
Drawing up to my toes, I whispered at his ear, “You’re a bad influence.”
“Something we can finally agree on.” He chuckled.
My throat went dry as I followed his lead, letting my fingers slide from his neck to his shoulders to the mountainous bulge of his biceps.
No man had a right moving his hips the way Gabriel did. The lusty rotations conjured up fantasies of hot fiery coupling, pounding the likes of which Barnaby didn’t understand.
His pounding involved his fists on my body at deliberately aimed places.
With Gabriel, I let the music take me, knowing I could do nothing wrong enough to anger him in such a way he’d hurt me.
I leaned my head back, and he grasped me closer around the waist as my breasts brushed against his hard chest.
When his groin collided with my belly and I reared up at the thick ridge I felt butting against me, his lips hovered near my earlobe. “I think you’re the bad influence, cher.”
I was getting carried away.
For once, I just went with it.
The lyrics to this song were more sexual.
Sensual even.
The rhythm dripped down into my being like slow-melting ice in a tumbler of whiskey.
I quickly grew hot as Gabriel twirled me this way and that, always bringing me back to the formidable cradle of his body.
I wondered if he missed me as much as I missed him—at those darkest, loneliest times of night when I could let my fantasies run free only to startle from them to find I’d been virtually locked inside a house with a madman of my own choosing.
No.
None of that here.
Not right now.
Gabriel’s irises looked like glimmering steel, and his palms scorched the flesh beneath my thin dress when they skimmed from my hips to almost settle on my ass.
A breath skipped from my chest, the heat I remembered from so long ago swirling to all the places I thought dead—my breasts, my nipples . . . right between my thighs.
“Damn, Arden.”
Even his growly timbre did strange, half-remembered things to me.
I blinked up at him. “What?”
“I need a drink to cool off, babe.”
The sultriest of laughs left my lips, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to close this Pandora’s box now that I’d opened it again.
He ordered from the bar as I stood to the side, observing him.
It was unreal how easily he fit in to any crowd.
He had always had charisma—shame he hadn’t put it to good use.
When a very pretty woman approached him—her hips leading the way in a heavy come-on—I stiffened right up.
Gabriel’s beard parted for a grin, and I nearly curled my nails into talons like a jealous bitch.
He shook his head with a laugh and sauntered toward me, leaving the woman watching with drool practically running down her chin.
I forgot about everything as soon as I polished off my drink, and Gabriel took me out on the dance floor again. We laughed, letting it all go just like we used to.
In this world, nothing could touch us.
Nothing could tame us or cage us.
With a break in the music, I drew back to catch my breath and get my bearings.
Perspiration beaded along the strong cords of Gabriel’s neck, and I fought the urge to lick the salty taste off him.
I fought the urge to walk back into his arms as another song began.
I knew coming to Jupiter’s had been a foolish move on my part.
I’d let myself become stupidly infatuated again, but I needed Gabriel for one specific reason.
He tugged my hand once more, bringing my arm up to curl around his neck as his body began to move.
Zydeco was usually fast-paced, hard-grinding music. As luck would have it, Gabriel chose to guide me out onto the crowded dance floor to a song that cast a slow burning spell.
Drawing up to my toes, I whispered at his ear, “You’re a bad influence.”
“Something we can finally agree on.” He chuckled.
My throat went dry as I followed his lead, letting my fingers slide from his neck to his shoulders to the mountainous bulge of his biceps.
No man had a right moving his hips the way Gabriel did. The lusty rotations conjured up fantasies of hot fiery coupling, pounding the likes of which Barnaby didn’t understand.
His pounding involved his fists on my body at deliberately aimed places.
With Gabriel, I let the music take me, knowing I could do nothing wrong enough to anger him in such a way he’d hurt me.
I leaned my head back, and he grasped me closer around the waist as my breasts brushed against his hard chest.
When his groin collided with my belly and I reared up at the thick ridge I felt butting against me, his lips hovered near my earlobe. “I think you’re the bad influence, cher.”
I was getting carried away.
For once, I just went with it.
The lyrics to this song were more sexual.
Sensual even.
The rhythm dripped down into my being like slow-melting ice in a tumbler of whiskey.
I quickly grew hot as Gabriel twirled me this way and that, always bringing me back to the formidable cradle of his body.
I wondered if he missed me as much as I missed him—at those darkest, loneliest times of night when I could let my fantasies run free only to startle from them to find I’d been virtually locked inside a house with a madman of my own choosing.
No.
None of that here.
Not right now.
Gabriel’s irises looked like glimmering steel, and his palms scorched the flesh beneath my thin dress when they skimmed from my hips to almost settle on my ass.
A breath skipped from my chest, the heat I remembered from so long ago swirling to all the places I thought dead—my breasts, my nipples . . . right between my thighs.
“Damn, Arden.”
Even his growly timbre did strange, half-remembered things to me.
I blinked up at him. “What?”
“I need a drink to cool off, babe.”
The sultriest of laughs left my lips, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to close this Pandora’s box now that I’d opened it again.
He ordered from the bar as I stood to the side, observing him.
It was unreal how easily he fit in to any crowd.
He had always had charisma—shame he hadn’t put it to good use.
When a very pretty woman approached him—her hips leading the way in a heavy come-on—I stiffened right up.
Gabriel’s beard parted for a grin, and I nearly curled my nails into talons like a jealous bitch.
He shook his head with a laugh and sauntered toward me, leaving the woman watching with drool practically running down her chin.
I forgot about everything as soon as I polished off my drink, and Gabriel took me out on the dance floor again. We laughed, letting it all go just like we used to.
In this world, nothing could touch us.
Nothing could tame us or cage us.
With a break in the music, I drew back to catch my breath and get my bearings.
Perspiration beaded along the strong cords of Gabriel’s neck, and I fought the urge to lick the salty taste off him.
I fought the urge to walk back into his arms as another song began.
I knew coming to Jupiter’s had been a foolish move on my part.
I’d let myself become stupidly infatuated again, but I needed Gabriel for one specific reason.
Badass, sassafras Rie Warren is an OG Amazon All Star author of Bad Boy books and MC romance. She delivers five star sex, suspense, and the best banter around. Her stories are one hundred percent original, do not contain fluffy plots or virgin brides, and wring every last emotion from readers to leave them with a satisfied smile. Rie’s tough alpha males are never brought to heel, but are instead healed by the feisty femme fatale of their perfect match.
She grew up in Maine, went to college in Iowa (Iowa, what?), lived in Scotland, and married in Englishman. In true roundabout fashion, they came back to the States, settled in South Carolina’s lowcountry, putting down southern roots and pursuing their arty endeavors. Tale spinner and character diviner, Rie is a lover of sleep, wine, and rude memes often involving either Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh. She is raising two teen daughters along with an entire brain full of unruly characters.
She grew up in Maine, went to college in Iowa (Iowa, what?), lived in Scotland, and married in Englishman. In true roundabout fashion, they came back to the States, settled in South Carolina’s lowcountry, putting down southern roots and pursuing their arty endeavors. Tale spinner and character diviner, Rie is a lover of sleep, wine, and rude memes often involving either Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh. She is raising two teen daughters along with an entire brain full of unruly characters.
Rough-talking alpha men? Rie has that on tap.
Stubborn sassy heroines? You bet.
Smoldering sex scenes that’ll set your Kindle on fire? Check, check, check.
Keep a fan handy, you’ll need it.
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And, as always, happy sexy reading to you!
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