Page 1 of Sinful Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #9)

Chapter One

Daisy

“ E xcuse me, miss. You dropped something.”

I shield my eyes to look up at the woman. “Thank you.”

She drops a pretty silver dragonfly necklace in the palm of my hand.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, but it’s not mine.” I try to hand it back to her, but she curls my fingers around it.

“Keep it. It’s a good sign. It means an angel is near.”

As she walks away, I hold it close to my chest. This must be a sign that I’m on the right path. Everything seems to finally be falling into place.

Next week, I start my new life in Paris. I can hardly believe it. Not that I’ve had a bad life up until now, but I need something different. Something more me .

The art school I’m going to is my chance to explore a side of my creativity that I’ve had to keep hidden. Okay, so I don’t have to keep it a secret, but no one would understand where it’s coming from. I don’t even understand where it comes from, and that is a little scary.

As I’m securing the necklace around my neck, something catches my eye. Or, I should say, someone. I let the dragonfly fall against my chest and glance behind me to see who he’s waving at. No one around me is paying him any attention. I turn back to him, and he points at me.

My heartbeat picks up. “Me?” I mouth.

He nods, and for some embarrassing reason, I fan myself. His body shakes as he chuckles, and then he winks at me.

I abruptly turn away. Surely, he’s mistaken me for someone he knows. He’s … he’s a biker.

I’m just going to pretend that didn’t happen.

Another quick glance couldn’t hurt, though. He’s easy on the eyes.

My stomach flips when I see he’s still unashamedly staring at me. “Fuck,” I whisper under my breath as I pick up my paintbrush and return my focus to the painting I’m working on.

It’s a gift for my parents. I’ll be gone for a year.

I’m feeling a little guilty about it, so I decided to leave them with something I knew they would love.

I mean, they love everything I paint, but they especially like my seascapes.

We used to spend every weekend on this beach, so I know it will mean a lot to them.

It’s a particularly beautiful night. They’ll rave over the pretty pastel colors.

Don’t get me wrong. I like the beach, but I don’t think we see it the same way.

My brush hovers over the darkest part of the painting, where the deepest part of the ocean is, far away on the horizon.

That is what calls to me, but it can’t be the focus of the painting.

That is reserved for the bright sun that reaches for me, stopping a few feet away at the water’s edge.

The light in my work has fought hard for my attention. For the most part it wins, but the dark is always there, like an easter egg I hope no one finds.

I begin to pack up my supplies before it’s completely dark. When I sling my bag over my shoulder, my foot catches in the blanket, and I stumble backward. A firm hand wraps around my elbow, keeping me upright.

An electric current zips through my body, shocking me into silence.

The wind blows and his scent wraps around me, sending a strange signal to my nether region. He doesn’t release me, and I can’t say I want him to. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s the biker who I’d conveniently forgotten until now.

“I’ll help you,” he tells me, and my brain is slow to compute that it’s not a question … it’s a statement.

It’s a little presumptuous of him, but if I’m honest, I don’t hate it.

His fingers release their grip, and then he slowly tugs my bag from me. I should scream. My parents taught me to yell and make a scene if anyone ever tried to kidnap me.

That’s what I should do.

He moves around me with my bag now securely hanging over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine as he carefully lifts my painting from the easel. “I won’t mess it up. I promise,” he assures me with a grin on his face.

A smile that is meant to disarm me.

It works, but only because I’m drawn to things like him. My gaze leaves his face to explore the dark tattoos covering his neck. A shiver zips up my spine, and of course he notices. Luckily, he mistakes it for a lack of heat.

Reality is the opposite. I’ve never been so hot.

“Thank fucking god it’s cooling off. I’ve been sweating my balls off out here,” he jokes.

My eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh fuck, shit … I mean …” He stops speaking and sighs loudly. “I’m sorry about the language. I don’t have a filter.”

My brain is already reveling in every square inch of this man. He must feel so free, moving around the world without filtering himself.

He’s a walking piece of art. He tickles all my senses in a good way. That’s not good. It’s bad. I’m sure it’s bad. It just feels good. But it shouldn’t, should it?

He’s holding all my stuff in his arms. They’re decorated with ink like the rest of him. My gaze slides to the sides of his shirt. It’s cut clean open, and when the wind blows, I catch the word Trust beautifully scrolled across his ribs.

His chuckle draws my eyes back to his face.

“You’re one of those quiet types, aren’t you?”

Oh, I haven’t said anything. What should I say?

“It’s okay if you don’t like to talk much. I can chat enough for the both of us,” he says as he starts to head up the beach.

I stand and stare at the darkening ocean for a moment before hurrying to catch up to him.

“Just guide me to your car, and I’ll help get this all loaded up for you.”

To my car? Oh, he thinks I drove here. Shit, I can’t take him back to my apartment. That would be a stupid thing to do.

He keeps walking, and I have to run on my short little legs to keep up. I hurry in front of him, jogging backward so I can see if he’s smudging my painting with his big hands. My mouth goes dry, and I stop.

He pauses too.

“You okay?” His eyebrows pull together as he does a quick head to toe assessment of me.

His hands are exquisite. Rough and also graphically covered. It excites me, because it has to mean he’s an art lover. He’s living breathing art that’s dark and dangerous.

He’s got dirty blond hair and eyes that are the strangest color. It’s like staring into the milky way galaxy. Blues, hues of green, and silver, and …

“Um.” He glances behind him, stealing the universe I was just exploring.

Oh. I see what’s happening. He’s starting to realize he’s engaged with a crazy person.

I turn around and start walking, trying to act normal. I’m not sure if he’s following because I’m too scared to look.

Okay, so what are my options here?

Tell him I don’t have a car and let him walk me home. That would be a stupid risk.

I could ask him to set my stuff beside a random person’s ride, wait for him to leave, and then go home. Yep. That’s exactly what I should do. That’s the safe bet.

How did I even get myself into this situation?

“I don’t know how you beach people deal with all this fucking sand. I swear the shit has worked its way into the crack of my ass.”

A chuckle escapes me.

“Aw, you do have a voice. I was starting to wonder.”

Well, I at least know he’s still behind me. I shake my head and continue toward the parking lot, scanning for a car I can claim as mine.

When I spot a sleek-looking car that’s unoccupied, I head that way. I stop by the back door. “Um, you can just set my stuff on the ground. I’ll get it from here. Thank you.”

“She speaks too,” he teases as he carefully sets everything down. “It’s getting dark. I’ll wait until you get everything loaded.” His gaze scans the parking lot, looking for threats. Maybe he should look in the mirror, because every person we’ve passed has given him a wide berth.

“Oh, I’ll be okay. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

He shrugs. “I ain’t got nothing else to do.”

When I don’t move, he finally gets the hint. “Alright. If you’re sure you’re good, I’ll leave you to it.”

He steps away, and I lean against the car, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Hey bitch! Get the fuck off my car!” a man yells, hurrying across the parking lot toward me.

I stand up straight as he rushes past the biker.

“I’m sorry,” I begin to say, bending over to pick up my stuff.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he continues to yell at me.

Before I know what’s happening, my hair is being pulled and I’m being dragged across the parking lot. I lose my balance and fall to my ass. I try reaching back to grab his hands. He’s going to rip my hair out!

Suddenly, he releases me, and I drop to the ground flat on my back. A sickening crack sounds, and the man screams. I roll my head to the side as he lands with a thud beside me. Blood gushes out of his nose as he covers his face with his hands.

“You broke my nose!” he howls.

A large shadow looms over us. “Oh yeah? I guess we’re not done then, because I was going for your skull.”

My eyes widen, and I quickly sit up, rubbing the back of my head. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

The biker holds his hand out for me to take, still glaring at the man beside me. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize.”

He helps me to my feet.

“Tell her you’re sorry, and I might let you live.”

The man’s eyes widen.

“Oh no, that’s not …”

The biker kicks the guy in the leg, interrupting my thoughts.

“Say it. You’ve got exactly three seconds.”

The man mumbles a quick apology as his hands rapidly fill with blood. He sits up and coughs, spitting red all over the pavement.

“I’m so sorry,” I say again, letting the biker gently tug me back to the car.

He starts picking up my things again , keeping his eyes on me as he does. I’m still looking back at the poor man who now has a broken nose because of me.

“I take it this isn’t your car?”

My gaze snaps to his. “I’m so sorry. I was just scared and …”

The scowl on his face softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. Let’s just get you home. Okay?”

I nod, tears stinging my eyes. I feel so bad about this entire situation.

He follows me to my apartment, which is just across the road. This time I’m not the only one who’s quiet. I don’t like it. I’d rather hear him talk.

When we get to my door, he patiently waits while I unlock it. I hold it open for him.

For the first time since meeting him, he hesitates.

“Please, come in,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I think we could both use a drink after that, don’t you?”

His shoulders fall, and that disarming smile I fell for at the beach returns. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”