Page 16

Juliet

Four Months Later

I wake up to the warm weight of Abel’s arm around me, his chest pressed against my back, his breathing steady and deep.

For a moment, I lie still, taking in the warmth of his body and the calm, steady rhythm of his heart.

This is where I belong, where I’ve always belonged.

The bond between us pulses, a constant thrum of connection I can’t escape, but now I don’t want to.

The euphoria of our mating still lingers in my veins.

I feel whole. We’ve crossed the threshold together, and I can feel it in my bones, in the way my body seems to know him even more deeply now.

The marks we left on each other, the taste of our kiss, the way our bodies melded together perfectly.

It’s all part of us, of what we’ve become.

I turn in his arms, lifting my head just enough to see his face. His hair is messy, his jaw still rough with the stubble he refuses to shave. But his eyes, those eyes, are soft, a rare vulnerability hidden there that I never expected to see from the man who’s always been so sure of himself.

“Morning,” I whisper, my voice still a little hoarse from the passion we shared last night.

“Morning,” Abel replies, his voice thick, like he hasn’t quite woken up yet.

His hand moves to my growing baby bump, brushing over my skin in a tender caress.

The touch makes my heart flutter. “You’re still here,” he adds with a soft chuckle, as if he can’t quite believe it.

As if I’m a dream he might wake up from.

I nod, my chest tightening. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours now, Abel.”

He pulls me closer, wrapping both arms around me, and kisses my forehead softly.

I can feel the weight of his emotions through the bond between us.

He’s still overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, by the fact that we’ve completed our mating.

That I chose him, and he chose me. And it’s been months.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin as he speaks.

“You deserve everything,” I say softly, cupping his face and meeting his gaze. “We deserve this, Abel.”

He kisses me then, slow and deep, a kiss that speaks of promises, of all the things left unsaid between us. It’s gentle but filled with an intensity that makes my body ache for more. My skin is burning, and I feel like I could stay here forever, safe, wanted, and completely loved.

“I’m not letting you go,” he mutters against my lips. “Ever.”

****

I didn’t tell my father the truth for a long time. Not until the bond had already formed. Not until Abel had become something more than my boss. More than just a man, but my mate and my future, my everything. Not until after we found out I was pregnant.

When I finally told my father the truth—about the club, about the patch, and about Abel—he didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t storm out or threaten to kill the man I loved. He just sat there, quiet for a long time, like he was counting every breath before he let the next words out.

“Did he force you?”

“No.”

"Did he claim you without permission?"

“No.”

"Did you choose him?”

I nodded, trembling. “I chose him. I choose him every day.”

Then he did the one thing I didn’t expect. He hugged me. And just like that, the distance between us was bridged.

We’re not perfect now. But we’re trying. He calls every Sunday. Abel never forgets his birthday. And when he visits, he makes sure to knock before stepping inside our space.

It’s not what I thought I’d have. But it’s mine. Ours. And for the first time in my life, I’m not hiding who I am.

I’m an omega. I’m a dancer. I’m a mate.

And I am not afraid anymore.

The End

About Jade Marshall

Jade Marshall was born in South Africa where she still resides with her husband, daughter, and four dogs.

Although her first love has always been writing, she is a certified CCTV technician, traveling the country and getting to know new people every day.

Since 2020 she has had over twenty novels published as well as stories featured in several Anthologies.

Jade is best known as the author of the Katu Wolves series, The Gypsy Bastards MC series, and the Cammareri Family and she is currently working on several projects simultaneously.

When not working or writing she enjoys photography, reading, first-person shooter games, and watching horror movies.

Want to hang out with the author, win prizes, see the cool covers first, and support Jade’s books on social media?

You can sign up for Jade’s newsletter here .

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www.jademarshallauthor.com

Other Books by Jade Marshall:

www.evernightpublishing.com/jade-marshall

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Conceal and Reveal by Maria Mercurio

The Shaman by Ainsley Davidson

Claim My Soul by Laura M. Baird

BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

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THE WOLF

Gypsy Bastards MC, 1

Jade Marshall

Copyright ? 2020

Sample Chapter

Hadley

I hate my job.

It isn’t something I say to get people to pity me.

I genuinely hate working at Mary’s Rib Shack .

I hate the mauve one-piece uniform, made of an awful, itchy fabric.

I hate that the owner likes us to show off our assets, which means our uniforms are short around the legs and low around the neck.

I don’t particularly enjoy showing off my barely-there B cups, especially not to our clientele.

I hate that Mary’s is in downtown Gypsy Falls and the people who show up here are sketchy at best, but most are completely creepy.

But Mary pays in cash and I need to stay off the grid.

This isn’t something I’ve done out of choice but more out of necessity.

Growing up around an outlaw motorcycle club, which I then managed to piss off—through no fault of my own, might I add—means running and hiding to stay alive.

If King were to ever get his hands on me, I wouldn’t survive.

Knowing that death chases me daily and could catch up with me at any moment ensures I always keep my head down.

The area where the diner is located is far from ideal, with drug dealers on every second corner and a nonexistent police response rate.

From the linoleum flooring that’s cracked and peeling in places, to the faded leather booth seats, and the god-awful music, there isn’t a single thing about Mary’s Rib Shack that I don’t hate.

I work the evening shift until closing time, from four in the afternoon until around midnight. I want to be able to work my way out of this hellhole and provide a better life for myself. I have aspirations and being a waitress isn’t one of them.

One day, I want to be able to open my own tattoo parlor.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved drawing and through the years, I’ve honed my craft.

Add to that the fact I did an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, learning from one of the best, and you have my dream.

The only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.

“Hey, can we get some more coffee over here?” the man with the biker’s cut sitting in my section all but yells at me.

Earlier, I saw them enter and a chill ran right down my spine. My first instinct was to run, to get the hell out of here as quickly as my legs could carry me. After catching a glimpse of their patches and not recognizing their club, I was able to calm myself.

My hands shake, and my legs feel weak as I make my way to their table. Bikers terrify me. Not some bikers, but all bikers.

The three other guys with him seem rather normal-looking although anyone with eyes can tell that’s not the case.

One blond and two with dark-brown hair, all of them with protruding beer bellies.

The fourth man, the one who just spoke and whom I’m assuming is the leader of this merry band of misfits, gives me the straight-up chills.

He’s large, burly, and bald, with a snake tattoo running down his arm to his wrist. It’s garish and badly done with absolutely no detail.

The man looks me over with eyes the color of mud as I refill the cups.

There’s no depth to his eyes, just a flat deadness, and I try to avoid eye contact at all costs.

I refill all four cups and start to move away when a large hand clamps around my wrist and pulls me back.

Again, I feel this crawling sensation running over my skin.

It takes everything I have within me not to pull away from his grip.

“Why don’t you sit down with us for a minute, darling?” the leader drawls at me.

“I can’t. I’m on shift and have to get back to my customers,” I reply while trying to pull my arm from his grip.

My breathing becomes shallow and a shiver works its way through my body. The need to get his hands off me is almost overwhelming.

“Well, now, Mary won’t mind, and the other waitress can see to your customers while you have a seat with us.”

He uses a tone that’s supposed to be reassuring but simply serves to creep me out even more. He yanks on my arm and I lose my balance, toppling forward and pouring half the remaining coffee down the front of his pants.

“You stupid fucking whore,” he bellows.

Before I can react, he backhands me across the face, causing me to fall.

My head connects with the counter and then the floor with a resounding thud.

Lying on the floor, all I can think is this is it, my last day at Mary’s .

I would rather live on the fucking street than work here one more day.

Regaining my senses and opening my eyes, I find complete chaos around me.

All the guys from the table are on their feet.

The two dark-haired men are holding back the guy who just slapped me.

He’s doing his best to pull away from their grip and has his eyes trained on the front door to the diner.