Wilting Violets (Sons of Templar MC – New Mexico #2) Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, MC Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC - New Mexico Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
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The second I tasted her lips, I knew I couldn’t leave. Knew I couldn’t have her either but knew that I wouldn’t be able to live if I didn’t know she was safe, protected. It was fucking insane, didn’t make any sense, but I wasn’t a slave to reason with her. Only instinct.

And the second she told me what that French fuck did, my fury burned bright, and I was thankful to have a goal. Something to focus on. Someone to hurt.

The distance from her didn’t clear my head, though. Didn’t give me even a tenuous grip on control. Not when the second I got back, she was in my room looking like something the Devil was sending me to ensure I’d be damned forever. Tight, little fucking yoga pants that showed all of her curves. A top that didn’t cover her fucking bellybutton… All I could think about was running my tongue over that skin.

I’d almost lost it right there and then. But I’d managed, somehow, to keep my shit locked down.

These past few weeks were hell, watching her. Seeing her at that fucking wedding, in that dress. Then at the New Year’s Eve party, wearing something sparkly and much too short with that new patch drooling all over her. I’d had to leave before my control splintered completely. I’d been holding onto it with a death grip, thinking I might actually survive until she went to college, when I’d get a respite, when I’d be able to get my shit together.

But then she came into my room.

Even God himself wouldn’t have been able to deny her. You know, if God existed, which He didn’t, and if God was a he which She most definitely wasn’t.

And I failed. Whatever kind of test that was. I failed.

I tasted her pussy, examined every inch of her delicate, creamy skin … it was seared that into my memory. And I couldn’t give a fuck if I burned in hell for eternity, it was fucking worth it.

Until Swiss knocked at my door, and I realized how fucking close I was to ruining it all.

“You’re quiet,” the man himself observed at the warehouse. A shipment came in a day earlier than we’d expected. It wasn’t unusual for shipments to arrive in the middle of the night, less likely to get shit from the new sheriff that way. We were there to make sure no shit went awry.

My arms were crossed over my chest as I kept my eyes on the truck and the men unloading it.

“Bitch you were fuckin’ that good, was she?” he prodded, grinning.

“I’m a good girl. But I want you to make me your bad girl.” Her perfume took over my senses. Sweet, but with an edge. Her nipples were perfect peaks underneath her dress.

I tasted bile. If only he fucking knew.

He’d kill me, probably.

Tell me I was fucking around with something priceless, something pure, something I had no business corrupting. And he’d be right.

I fucked-up. It was that simple.

Swiss nudged me, and all of my limbs turned taut.

“Jesus, bro, lighten up,” he joked. “You’re wound tight, even for you.”

The fucker was not exactly a ray of sunshine himself. That was what we’d bonded over when I first patched in, that we were fucked-up. Everyone who took the patch was fucked-up in one way or another.

I knew people had been curious about me, prospecting so late in life with a bunch of fucking teenagers. No one had known it was that or death. Sure, it had taken a hit to my ego, having to prove myself with a bunch of kids. But it also meant something to me. Earning my place here.

Hansen was the only one who knew about my past, what brought me here. There was no judgment, and he didn’t tell anyone. That was my choice.

And over a lot of whisky, I’d eventually shared my history with Swiss. Because I trusted him. And he trusted me. He’d considered me a friend. Part of his family.

Yet I’d gone and fucked that up in a way that couldn’t be forgiven.

Self-hatred burned in my throat, bitter and familiar.

“Just don’t want these fuckers trying anything,” I nodded at the soldiers working for the Russian mafia, our connect for the weapons coming out of the old Soviet Union. They were an old and dangerous organization. They were unpredictable and not completely trustworthy.

Swiss’s head turned to the truck. “Yeah, well, it’d be their funeral if they did,” he muttered.

War with the Russian fucking mob was the last thing we needed right now, but it did sound tempting if it meant I could be distracted.

“Wanted to ask you…” Swiss returned his attention back to me. “No one has tried anything with Violet at the club, have they?”

My throat constricted, making it hard to breathe, and it took everything in me not to react. “No,” I forced the lie out, still tasting her pussy on my lips. “No one is that stupid.”


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