Biting Back: A Motorcycle Club, Shifter, Romance (Shifting Steel Book 1) Read online

  Biting Back

  Shifting Steel Series Volume1

  Stephanie West

  Contents

  Preface

  1 The Gift that Keeps on Taking

  2 Fighting to Survive

  3 Living Hell

  4 The Clubhouse

  5 New Beginnings

  6 On the Run

  7 Men Will Be Men

  8 Raising Cain

  9 Turnabout is Fair Play

  10 Truth and Consequences

  11 Caging the Beast

  12 Finding Enlightenment

  13 A Painful Choice

  Epilogue

  Preface

  Adrian is granted the gift of sight, a sixth sense she tries to use to help others. But its her gift that leads her into the clutches of an evil man, a dirty cop who wants to use her for his own ill gotten gains. Captured, tortured and forced to predict the outcomes of an underground fighting ring, run by the Reapers Motorcycle Club, Adrian has no one to turn to.

  Just as Adrian is at the end of her rope an unlikely man comes to her rescue, saving Adrian from a fate worse than death. Except her savior rides a steel horse and is anything but a gentleman. Adrian is unsure if she has been liberated from one form of prison just to enter another as she tries her best to understand her new captor’s intentions.

  Cain isn’t just a menacing biker, he’s something more, something not entirely human. Adrian finds herself drawn to the savage nature that shifts beneath Cain’s sexy facade, as she faces a new and frightening fate.

  Can Adrian learn to trust her gift in the hands of the dangerously inhuman Reaper. Can she find love in the arms of the dangerous feral biker or will their differences and fate tear them apart.

  Warning this story depicts abuse, rough sex, biting, anal sex and m/f/m erotic scenes. If these things offend you please do not read.

  Thank you for your interest in my story.

  I began writing when I was younger but set the hobby aside as life got in the way. Now that I’m older I’ve picked it back up again. As a child I had a hard time learning to read so anything I took an interest in was deemed acceptable since “I was reading.”

  I enjoy fairy tales, the older unsanitized versions as well as the modern ones, mythology, science fiction, action and romance, or as I liked to call them grocery store porn. For some reason I have always found that as I read my mind likes to spin its own tales.

  My stories are always a bit tawdry featuring a heroine who is gifted in some way and will always end happily ever after. It is my opinion this is meant to be entertainment and a depressing ending is not entertainment. Real life offers enough depressing crap.

  My apologies for my horrific grammar, it was something I never seemed able to latch on to, probably connected to the slow reading thing. Believe me people have tried. I truly hope that my fairy tale makes up for it. So here you go.

  1 The Gift that Keeps on Taking

  Adrian

  Adrian walked down the white corridor of Mercy Hospital where she volunteered her Sundays. She spent her time sitting with the sick, the injured and dying, anyone who had no one else in the desperate moments when they needed someone the most. Her mother had been a doctor so Adrian felt quite at home in the hospital setting. And though Adrian held more of a problem solver, glorified cleaning lady job to earn a living, she often felt that healing others was within her power, a calling. Maybe it was emotional healing.

  Adrian was sympathetic to the suffering of others even though she understood it was a natural part of life. It amused her what so many people got hung up on. A stubbed toe, a bad day at work or bounced check was nothing.

  From a young age she learned she had a high tolerance for pain, physical and mental. Adrian had experienced her fair share of both. As a teenager she had suffered for a year with an undiagnosed appendicitis. But because her illness wasn’t routine, and her pain wasn’t supposedly severe enough, it wasn’t recognized. Every month she became ill, doubled over in pain, till she was finally hospitalized after insisting they cut her open and take out anything unnecessary.

  Adrian had been witness to rape, spousal abuse, illness and death. It was in a hospital like this she had watched her grandparents pass one by one. But it was her mother’s passing that was the hardest. Her mother had been the only one that truly understood her. Her mother had been the one person Adrian could talk to, who didn’t think she was out of her mind when she babbled about thing that others would’ve locked her up in the nut house for. All these experiences made her stronger and helped to give her perspective.

  Despite being uniquely equipped by life to help the people she interacted with at Mercy Hospital, it wasn’t so much Adrian’s need to ease physical suffering that drew her to volunteer. People would heal or not, live or not. That is the way of it. What will be, will be. But in those hardest of moments we all deserve to be connected to someone, in that pivotal place and time to have someone that’s there for us. Encouragement to put one foot forward, and then another, even if that journey brings us to the “end” of the trail.

  That’s what drove Adrian to do what she did. Where others were disturbed by the hospice care wing, Adrian was drawn to it. She felt needed there. Her strange gift, the one her mother had accepted, gave Adrian a unique perspective on life. A way to comfort the dying in a way that very few people could. Where many people had faith, Adrian had knowing.

  So Adrian’s internal monologue carried on as she walked through the ICU on her way out of the hospital. The beep, whir and occasional squall of machines droned on in the background as she passed room after room. A particular suite caught her eye and Adrian stopped. An elderly woman lay with her hands clasped in prayer. The oxygen tube that wrapped around the woman’s face hindered the whispered words she spoke as Adrian approached. She always felt like she was intruding even as she felt propelled forward.

  “Would you like me to sit with you?” Adrian inquired and smiled as the older woman looked up to see her standing in the doorway.

  “My son is on his way.” The woman replied as she pulled the blanket up.

  “I am happy to keep you company till he arrives, but it’s okay if you rather I go.”

  The sweet looking woman with salt and pepper hair nodded her ascent so Adrian took the chair beside her bed.

  “My name’s Adrian.”

  “Constance”

  “Nice to meet you. I volunteer here.” Adrian felt the need to say so Constance wouldn’t think she was odd. She knew enough about the machines wired to Constance’s aged body to know the woman was struggling. “What was it you prayed for?” Adrian pried, but it seemed the only way to broach the conversation that brought her into the room. There was an energy in the room, a feeling she’d come to recognize. It was Death.

  “I fear leaving my son Hank behind.” Constance struggled to say, her breathing labored. “I worry about him,” She sighed, “but some things can not be helped.”

  Adrian knew it was cathartic to voice her sorrow, so she listened patiently.

  “Are you afraid of dying?” Adrian inquired then smiled as Constance shook her head no. “Good” Adrian encouraged.

  Constance told Adrian about her husband and a young daughter that preceded her in passing. Constance had a hard time getting the words out, but she seemed interested in talking nevertheless.

  Adrian had become familiar with the thoughts that sometimes filtered into her mind, particularly at times like these. Her eyes were drawn to the corner of the room. Although Adrian saw nothing, she felt the presence.

  �
��Short, bobbed brown hair. A sailor dress and a sweet ornery smile. About ten years old. A necklace with a little bird.” Adrian spoke the things she saw in her mind’s eye.

  She knew it was Constance’s lost little girl but the tears that fell from the old woman’s eyes confirmed it.

  “It’s my special gift.” Adrian tentatively replied to Constance’s shocked expression. “She must be here with you.” Loved ones always came to collect their family near the end. “Do not fear what is to come. There is something more.” Adrian attempted to comfort the old woman in her final hours. That was her special gift, sight.

  Adrian was a freak for sure. She saw a lot of things. She saw the future and the other side, but she was far from all seeing, all knowing. It always angered her when people mocked psychics, clairvoyant or however the masses wanted to pigeon hole her. Phrases like “you’re so psychic why didn’t you see that coming”.

  She didn’t control IT, IT just happened. Things weren’t always crystal clear and sometimes Adrian failed to trust herself. Adrian had once hoped, when she was younger, to find others that were different too. The need wasn’t as insistent now, but it still might be nice to have a sympathetic ear.

  Throughout Adrian’s thirty years she’d learned to recognize and interpret the dreams that were more than flights of fancy. She’d learned to focus on and filter out the thoughts that intruded on her daily life that meant more than her run of the mill internal musings.

  Mistakes were still made so she always tried to proceed cautiously. That coupled with people’s inability to accept what they couldn’t understand kept Adrian quiet most of the time. But if she had something to tell someone she felt it was her duty to tell them, and let the cards fall where they may. At times it made her feel vulnerable, but she was strong enough to withstand it. Life could bite you in the ass, but Adrian was more than willing to bite back.

  Regardless Adrian used her gift the best way she knew how. It wasn’t just a gift meant for her, to horde to herself, but to help people like Constance. To give them hope and lessen their fear, so they could make the most of their final hours on this leg of their journey through existence.

  Adrian looked up as a man walked in with a mustache and dark buzzed hair. He wore a serious expression. Something about him made Adrian shiver. This must be Constance’s son. Adrian smiled at the woman and decided it was time to get going.

  Hank

  Hank listened at the edge of the door his face tinged red with anger. Some con artist little bitch was hustling his mother.

  From what Hank could see of the woman sitting with his mother she had dark, almost black hair that hung down her back. Her skin was creamy and pale. She didn’t look like any of the grifters Hank usually dealt with, but that didn’t mean anything. It just meant she hadn’t been arrested yet. He was a Chicago cop and had seen the scum of the earth pull this bullshit all the time. He himself was far from an angel.

  Hank’s mother often got on his last nerve, constantly nagging, but she was his mother and he’d be damned if he’d allow someone to weasel a dime out of her.

  This was the only conclusion he could arrive at until he heard the strange woman describe his little sister, Karen, in great detail.

  Hank steeled himself to the old emotions he thought had long passed as they resurfaced. Memories of a 19 year old version of himself, things done in anger, confessions never made. It wasn’t possible that this bitch knew something she shouldn’t.

  “What the fuck!” Hank mumbled, clenching his fist till his knuckles turned white.

  Hank decided to enter the room. His mother introduced her visitor, some random passing volunteer.

  “Right.”

  Either way, whatever her game he’d get to the bottom of this.

  “Let me walk you to your car, it’s dark.” Hank insisted as Adrian, the volunteer, attempted to make her exit.

  He made useless small talk about his job as they made their way to the parking lot. Hank noted she drove a shitty little blue Corolla, local Illinois plates.

  Adrian

  Adrian spent the next several days forgetting the overbearing man, Hank, that gave her the creeps. She was glad she could offer comfort to his mother, Constance, who she learned had passed that next morning from heart failure.

  Work was work, busy as usual. Adrian pushed herself hard, only satisfied when she put forth a hundred and ten percent. Her cleaning business, which offered services that went beyond basic housekeeping was booming.

  A part of her had always been drawn to antiques and so she had learned to care for old valuable things. Apparently there was a niche for the services she offered, overseeing the house work of her well to do clients and giving out advice when specialists were needed. It was her job to know how not to screw up a fifty thousand dollar Asian rug by using some crappy vacuum. Over time this had somehow bled into other areas. Now she found herself planning events, coordinating contractors. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

  It had been a long day and all Adrian wanted to do was remove the cork from her favorite bottle of wine. It was an inexpensive red blend with a French name that made her dirty mind smile, Menage a something.

  Shaz, her black cat, bumped her head on Adrian’s calf in greeting as she entered her apartment. She’d named her Scheherazade after 1001 Arabian Nights, a tale that fascinated her as a child. However that was too hard to repeat constantly. Adrian found the cliche of owning a black cat amusing since she’d been called a witch in the past. Of course that hadn’t been as bad as the time someone suggested she was possessed by the devil. That had hurt.

  The wine went down smooth and since Adrian was too tired to worry about dinner, popcorn would do nicely. A relaxing hot shower later and her soft comfy bed greeted her with fresh smelling linens and it’s snugly plush warmth.

  Adrian wasn’t prone to nightmares but tonight her dreams swirled disturbingly through her mind. Hank’s dark mustache and cropped hair rose up unbidden. That cute little girl with bobbed hair and the bird necklace. An argument. A purse and missing money. Hank’s hand clamped on a small mouth to silence a scream. Then nothing.

  “Oh God this was not my bad thing it was…” Adrian started awake to find a hand at her throat, gripping tight. Adrian’s eyes widened. It was him, Hank!

  “The security in this apartment is pathetic.” She heard him say. “You mumble in your sleep.”

  Despite the dark Adrian could see the vein that pulsed in Hank’s forehead. The look in his eyes was pure menace as his fingers tightened so she couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even catch her breath. The man was psychotic, it was clear. Adrian tugged at Hank’s wrists but failed to loosen his grip on her neck. Adrian’s legs were pinned as he sat atop her. Struggling was futile, but still she thrashed. Stars started to dance before her eyes.

  “Was this to be it? Help please!” Adrian’s mind cried out as everything dimmed.

  Hank

  “The bitch knew! The things she mumbled in her sleep seemed impossible but somehow she fucking knew what he’d done!”

  The last thing Hank needed was someone nosing into his private life past or present. His extracurricular activities excited him and kept him living comfortably, but weren’t always on the up and up. Hank worked real hard to keep unnecessary complications at bay.

  It’d been a long time since he’d finished off someone that wasn’t a complete lowlife, but he’d do what was necessary. Hank felt his fingers grip the ridges of the bitches trachea. There was something satisfying in watching her struggle as she gasped, till the light dimmed in her eyes.

  “Problem solved.”

  Hank bundled the bitches body up in her blanket, wiped down anything he touched in her apartment and dropped her into his trunk with a thud.

  “This apartment security truly does suck! Lucky me.”

  Now he just needed to make a trip to lake Michigan … and he just might make it to the warehouse in time to see the fights.

  That tweaker snitch that turned him on to the fights was s
upposedly going to fight tonight. The dumb bastard had gone from dealing at the events to using too much of his own product. Now he’d do anything for cash and a fix. No fucking way the stoner would make it a single round before some musclebound thug cracked his skull.

  Speaking of luck maybe the fighters Hank bet on wouldn’t suffer the same fate and he’d double his investment for the night. If not he’d be pissed but it’d be an entertaining evening all the way around.

  He could always try to twist things in his favor and find some way to make better cash. That cage fighting scheme had potential. Unfortunately it was a nasty group of bikers that ran the ring and trust wasn’t their thing. Maybe his luck would hold and he’d get a chance to talk to the guy in charge.

  2 Fighting to Survive

  Adrian

  Adrian awoke feeling calm, but as she opened her eyes in the strange, cramped, dark place everything came swiftly rushing back. She was in a coffin. No a trunk!

  “Shit. Please help me. Don’t panic.” Adrian cried.

  The recognizable sounds of the road rumbled beneath her. The potholes hit, jostled Adrian sending pain shooting through her side. She cramped from being curled up on her side in the small space and her head throbbed. There was a sharp pain in her ribs at every bump. Hank must have dropped or thrown her down. Adrian’s throat felt raw and swollen. She couldn’t have screamed for help even if she wanted to.

  Adrian wanted to close her eyes again and bask in the comforting warmth and love she’d felt before she came to. Hank had strangled the life out of her, sending her to the odd place that existed between the here and beyond. Her mother had been there. She could still see her lips moving. It was at the tip of her tongue, but Adrian couldn’t recall what her mother had said. For some horrific reason Adrian had been sent back to this living nightmare. A tear slipped down her face, followed by another. She couldn’t let herself cry or her nose would run and then it would be impossible to breath.