Soulless:MC Biker Romance (Black Thorns, #2)By: Franca Storm
My husband - for believing in me. You are my best friend, my greatest supporter, and the love of my life.
My lovely FB Chat Ladies - thanks for your friendship, your support and for teaching me so much.
Awesome Bloggers, Kathy N & Jodi S - I will never forget what you did for me and your kindness in supporting me after things went south. Thank you for that and thank you for your friendship. Kathy, your amazing support with Reckless and all my promo on my latest release means so much to me and I can’t thank you enough.
Nicole at IndieSage - thank you for everything, for all of your invaluable help with promoting this book and my author name.
Kimie & the ladies of Pussycat Promotions - for your kindness and friendship, for your hard work in pimping this book.
Lucian Bane – for your selfless act of kindness. You helped me out more than you know with what you did for me.
Angel P, Mary Orr, Sherri M & Emily R - thank you so much for all of your kindness and help with pimping my posts.
All the Blogs and the great FB Pages/Groups - thank you for helping me to pimp Soulless and spread the word.
My amazing fans - thank you for reading and thank you for your support. You guys are AMAZING!
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My fists plow into the bag, the brutality of my hits echoing off the walls in the makeshift gym inside the clubhouse. A hard rhythm I can’t escape. And one I need. A goddamn distraction. Been this way for the last six months. Since the last time I saw her. Triggered some bad shit. Shit ‘bout that day.
Pounding the hell outta this bag should be enough to block it out. To focus my mind where I wanna and to keep it off things I can’t stomach thinking ‘bout. But it ain’t.
“I love you. Forever.”
“We ain’t dying, you got me? We ain’t fucking going out like this. I swear it, babe.”
Get outta my head!
I pick up speed, ripping into the bag.
Can feel the skin on my knuckles breaking, cuz I didn’t take the time to put on gloves. I was fucking desperate to just rip into something.
“Hold on, beautiful girl. Hold on.”
Jesus. Why the fuck can’t I block it out?
It’s haunting me, day in and day out.
With all my years with the club, I’ve done shit that’d screw with most people’s heads. But it never affected me this bad. None of it. I took it all. Dealt with it. But now? Now this is what’s screwing with me, keeping me awake at night? What the fuck’s that ‘bout? Don’t make sense.
I deliver another couple of angry jabs then step back and wipe my arm across my forehead, soaking up the sweat pouring from me and burning my eyes.
Of course it makes sense. Haunts me, cuz I failed.
Couldn’t protect her.
Failed to protect what’s mine.
What was mine.
I slump down on the bench in the corner and snatch up a towel that’s thrown across it beside my shirt. I wipe the sweat off my chest and then I fire up a smoke.
Adrenaline’s coursing through me from my frenzied workout. But the endorphins ain’t doing fuck all. Nothing ever works. Ain’t no relief. Alcohol. Nicotine. Riding. Nothing. Sex? Yeah, that’s just more screwed up shit right there.
As Prez now, I got pussy being thrown at me every goddamn day. But even the best club whores ain’t doing it for me. Can’t fucking finish. Been over a year since I been able to get my rocks off with a woman.
Just me and my hand getting the job done now. Whores I’ve tried to hook up with can’t get me there. Ain’t their fault, cuz a lot of ‘em got major skills. Nah, it’s me. Every time I get a feel of some pussy, thoughts of Rox take me over. Woman’s haunting me. Jesus fucking Christ.
Been over a year since I touched her and I still can’t shake her.
And I don’t want to. Still hanging on, cuz the woman is mine. Always will be even if we ain’t together. But not being together’s slowly killing me. Breaking me down.
Seeing her that day six months ago—her moving day—was a big mistake. I shoulda just left it, cuz I ain’t been able to see straight since. It triggered all the shit between us and, most of all, the fact that I failed to protect her.