(Maw of Mayhem MC)
Paranormal, Motorcycle Club Romance
Date Published: May 31, 2024
Grimdarke James’ problems have gone from bad to worse. Ousted from
his MC and on the run, all he wants is to keep Kit safe while he sets things
right. But calling in a favor drops more than trouble into his lap.
As he tries to salvage what’s left of the Maw of Mayhem, forces close
in on them and tensions rise. New allies are found and old loyalties are put
to the test. So is Grim’s relationship with Kit when someone from his
past tries to come between them.
Kit doesn’t share and the threat to her position as Grim’s mate
raises her hackles. With her heat triggered, she’s running on instinct
and battle lines are drawn. Can Grim win back his MC, and prove he’s
the man for her, or will he lose it all?
EXCERPT
Grim stalked out of the break room, riffling his hair. How the fuck had
everything gone to shit so fast? He blew the messy locks from his face and
frowned, glancing around the garage —
And did a double take at the trio of bikes by the bay door. Brick and
Wrench’s hogs, and Grim’s Bobber. How had that made it out of
the city? Holy — He stumbled over to them, not quite believing his bike was
really there. One of the crew must’ve ridden it out of the garage
before the club blew, which meant Stitch had left his down there.
Christ, he’d abandoned his own bike to snag the Bobber? A lump gummed
up Grim’s throat. You only did that kind of shit for your alpha.
He swallowed, gritting his teeth and hating himself. How much of this
clusterfuck could he have avoided if he’d just sucked it the fuck up
and owned the position after Clay’s murder?
Guess he’d never know.
Grim blinked, his eyes hot. Fingers trailing down the leather seat.
Listening to the click and ping of the engine cooling. Avoiding the rest of
the crew packing up. He frowned, guilt eating at him, his stomach a fucking
mess. Staring at the bathroom door, willing it to open.
For Kit to come out on two legs.
Come on, baby… Hands down, she was his priority, but Jesus fuck, the
rest of the crew depended on him, too, and they all needed to get gone.
Clay’s refusal to take a mate abruptly made more sense than Grim
wanted it to. Some part of that equation was gonna get fucked, and
he’d be damned if it was gonna be Kit unless she was squarely on his
dick.
Kat say anything else to you? he asked his cat.
— no. fighting with Kit —
Grim grunted, the angst of having to choose between his mate and his club
landing a gut punch of shame. Christ, he knew what that was like. Being at
odds with your beast. The terror of feeling trapped inside yourself, of
sinking down so fucking deep you didn’t know if you could come
back.
[CHAGRIN]
— different —
Same, Grim snapped. Shit was close enough, less the cuffs. He rubbed at the
scars on his wrists, the lines of ink blurred and broken. The memory of the
snick of silver setting his teeth on edge. That creeping, seeping burn
infecting his veins with its poison.
He wiped the sweat from his brow. Yeah, he knew how it felt, and granted,
he wasn’t keeping her there, but he’d sent Kit on that downward
spiral by pushing her to change. Jesus, he was a piece of shit. A sad laugh
slid from his lips.
But fuck, that’s what everyone thought anyway, wasn’t it? The
media, the rest of Mayhem… Mama Roe sure as hell did, and he was
about to go kiss her fucking —
Grim’s breath caught as the bathroom door swung open and Kit strode
out, looking classy as fuck and like the last person he should be with.
Triss dropped the crap she was packing into the cage’s trunk and ran
over to hug her.
Christ, he wanted to do the same… but, damn. Grim wet his lips. Kit
wasn’t… Damn. She was wearing that soft sweater he’d
snagged from the vamp queen’s trophy closet. Shit was fucking sinful
the way it hung off her shoulders and clung to her tits. The jeans
she’d been so crazy about did the same to her hips, a sliver of her
flat stomach flashing as she raised her arms to hug the girl back. And when
Triss skipped away, and Kit turned toward the cages?
Woman was a fucking goddess.
Grim bit back a groan at the way her long black hair dusted her ass as she
bent to put her bag in the trunk. She looked like a million fucking bucks,
which was easily nine hundred ninety-nine thousand and change above his pay
grade.
— ours —
The pang in Grim’s chest echoed the truth of that statement. Maybe he
didn’t deserve her now, but he’d fucking bust his ass until he
did. If she still wants us. His throat bobbed at the possibility she
wouldn’t after what he’d done to her.
— asked to shift —
Yeah, but the idea of being a shifter versus the reality of it were two
very different things, and Grim’d only known Kit for a hot fucking
minute. When they’d met, she’d been so damned adamant she
didn’t want to change.
— Reaper decided for her —
Grim’s knuckles whitened. And he’s gonna die for it. Darke
chuffed in agreement.
A growl welled up in Grim’s throat, his eyes narrowing.
Asorav had ended his call and wrapped his hand around Kit’s arm,
pulling her off to the side. He spoke to her adamantly in hushed tones in
the next bay.
— listen? —
Yeah. Grim stepped back into the shadows, his hearing sharpening.
Kit was smiling up at the vamp like he’d caught her at something. She
was trying to play it off as he was talking. “…understand the
temptation to eavesdrop on one’s elders, but strongly suggest you
resist the urge.” Asorav looped her arm through his, and a muscle in
Grim’s jaw twitched at the asshole’s familiarity with her.
— known her longer —
Don’t remind me, Grim muttered. He still couldn’t believe Kit
had been the Darkling’s dog walker.
“There are those that do not take kindly to such invasions of
privacy,” the vamp scolded.
Kit’s eyes widened, her pupils waffling —
Grim did a double take. Shit, did I really see that? Aside from the mirror,
he’d never seen anyone else’s flip between theirs and their
beast’s.
— did. Kat’s scared. Won’t talk —
He bit back a growl. Was that fucking right?
“Which is why you’re only getting a warning.” The vamp
patted her hand like some kind of benevolent fucking uncle. Grim’s lip
curled, knowing that grift all too well. He was gonna beat the shit outta
—
“Vampires really can read minds?” Kit squeaked. “I
thought –”
Wait, what? Grim froze.
“Yes and no,” Asorav said. “Your compatriots’
thoughts are closed to me, but it seems you and I share an affinity.”
The asshole chuckled. “Yes, it surprised me as well. However, after
Cecelia –”
“I want to know what you meant when you said she was
elsewhere.”
Asorav sighed, and Grim had to smirk at Kit’s indignation over the
MIA Pomeranian. “I don’t totally understand it,” the vamp
said, “but I believe she’s trapped somewhere between.
It’s… the place one goes to get from here to there. I’m
afraid I can’t explain it any better than that. She wasn’t
strong enough to anchor my form at this end, and when I pulled, she was
sucked in.”
Well, that sounded like total bullshit, but Grim supposed the prick
couldn’t admit to killing the thing. In either case, Kit sounded like
she bought it.
“Because she was your heart. Aryanna told me you were a
day-walker.”
“Did she now.”
Grim scratched his stubble, wondering how much of an issue that was gonna
be. Vampires were enough of a pain in the ass at night. One lurking around
24/7 didn’t exactly give him the warm fuzzies, but then again, this
conversation didn’t either.
“… mentioned you couldn’t be, um, de-animated, without
your heart.” Kit said, rubbing her arms like she was cold.
“Don’t worry, she’s not around anymore to note it in the
queen’s memoir.”
Asorav laughed, and Grim wanted to smash his fist through the vamp’s
fangs. “How delightful. I never could understand how Aryanna abided
that vitriolic shrew. I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to see it,
but suppose that’s neither here nor there, and you, my dear, most
certainly are. She told you, then, of my Maker’s triumph?”
Kit nodded like she was humoring him. Grim rolled his eyes. Fucking vamps
had sticks shoved up their asses almost as far as the witches. Christ, they
were pretentious fucks.
“It’s a metaphor, you know,” Asorav said. “She
wasn’t my heart; she had my heart. The spell transformed the physical
organ and created a bridge, tying our life forces to those we held dearest.
It was genius, really. Love is such a fickle thing, and given a
vampire’s lifespan, in most cases, transfers quite organically before
the object of our affection dies… or is lost, in this
case.”
He pulled a wide, platinum bracelet from his pocket, studded with what Grim
was positive were diamonds, and closed Kit’s fingers around it. The
fuck? “And it seems once again, my heart has been captured by another.
I assure you, I am aware this is most inconvenient, but, as I said, the
heart wants what the heart wants, now, doesn’t it?”
Grim bared his teeth, knuckles white as he clenched his fists. Had that
motherfucker just given Kit a fucking king’s ransom in jewelry and
told her he loved her?
— no, his heart —
I don’t give a fuck, she’s MINE.
About the Author
AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives
up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when
she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up
camo Chucks. Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. AK pays
the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She
belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for
far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion,
sleeps.
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