Revo's Property (2 page)

Chapter Two

Revo’s
bike kicked up a storm of dust and dry dirt as he parked the black beast by the
curb of the Dancing Bitch, Wolf County’s infamous roadhouse. He turned his nose
at the smell wafting from those doors. Vomit mixed with blood, mingled with the
stink of fear, violence, and the overpowering smell of arousal.

Fuck.
The VP of the Hellhounds MC, the only real law in Wolf County, shouldn’t be
sent out like some goddamn errand boy just because the club president needed to
pick a bone with someone.
Revo
killed his bike, got
off, and took the shotgun he brought with him.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered
himself. The faster this task was done, the faster he’d head back to the club
house and into the willing arms of Nathan, one of his favorite club whores.

Usually he only needed claws and
canines to make his point, but today felt different. He smelled trouble the
moment he heard Mace telling the guys this wasn’t the first time something
unusual like this happened. Not that strange things weren’t a common occurrence
ever since the Apocalypse came, went, and did a piss poor job of strangling the
life out of every living being on earth.

Revo
slung his shotgun over his shoulder and shoved the doors open. Dead silence.
The welcome party he expected, hell, hoped to have just so he could let off
some steam, didn’t exist. Drunk, drugged, or both, both human and supernatural
bodies remain slumped over tables, chair, floors, and every grease encrusted
counter top in twos, threes, and multiples. Every single one naked or in
various states of undress and those
Revo
guessed,
must’ve clung desperately to their modesty.

“A fucking orgy like Mace said,”
Revo
muttered, experimentally nudging one boot at Chops’
side, the Dancing Bitch’s owner and a werewolf who used to ride with the
Hellhounds. “Hey, Chops. Wake up.”

Chops groaned loudly, turned and
gave
Revo
the treat of seeing his inked beer belly
and other delicate bits.

“Shit, man. I didn’t need to see
that.”
Revo
turned his eyes away.

Chops looked far too gone and
wasted to talk anyway. Fuck, did he have his work cut out for him. Going back
to the club and telling Mace he didn’t find out the cause of the orgy wasn’t an
option. Failure guaranteed
Revo
a taste of fists if
he were lucky and being torn from limb to limb and ending up as Mace’s dinner
if he weren’t.

Ever since Mace’s mate died, their
club president and pack alpha had become unpredictable. Too reckless and some
said, a little fucked in the head to function properly.

Didn’t help that
Revo
wasn’t much of a thinker. He won his position as pack
beta and club VP because he got things done. The thinking he left to either
Spider or Bray. The rustle of cloth caught his ears, followed by the sound of
movement—footsteps too fluid and soft to be the steps of a drunkard waking up.

Revo
scented the air. He quickly separated the disgusting scents that clung to the
unconscious bodies and centered on one. His spiritual wolf howled when they
found their target, their prey, and hopefully the culprit of this little prank.

Decidedly male, certainly not
human, but fuck did this stranger smell so good
Revo
wanted to lick the salt off his skin. To press his nose up against his neck and
scent mark him like a wolf marking its territory. Tell the world this man was
his to do as he pleased. For a moment
Revo
was
tempted to strap poor protesting fucker over his bike, bring him back to the clubhouse,
bend him, over and fuck him.

Whoever this bastard was, he crept
slowly and nimbly past chairs and tables, past the maze of bodies, and slowly
made his way to the door.

Revo
moved with supernatural speed. He easily picked up the slender man from the
floor, twisted his hands behind his back, and slammed him against the table
within seconds.

“Let go of me!”

Revo
tightened his grip over his wrists, smirked when he felt the pulse leap at his
rough handling. “You sure you want me to let you go?”

He blanketed his body over the man,
felt the heat between their bodies.
Revo
closed his
eyes, ran the top of his nose up the side of the man’s neck and breathed in his
scent. He flicked his tongue against the man’s pulse.

“Sick fucker!”

“If I’m the sick fucker, then why
are you getting so aroused?”
Revo
whispered in his
ear.

“Liar.” The man snarled.

“I can smell you, stranger. Smell
your sharp want.”

His captive grew still and finally
stopped fighting him.
Revo
quickly took inventory.
Tall, leanly built, skin the color of copper, short black hair, and a face he’d
call pretty except there was an almost feral cast there. Hunger wasn’t uncommon
during hard times, but the man in front of him needed another kind of
sustenance to survive.

“You’re one of them,” the man whispered
the words so softly
Revo
wouldn’t have caught the
words if he weren’t a shifter. Something had changed between them.
Revo
could tell in the way his captive’s voice shifted from
saucy defiance to quivering fear. Too bad all that fear turned him on. “One of
the Hellhounds. The werewolf biker gang that controls Wolf County.”

“What gave me away?” Fucking hell,
was he flirting?
Revo
never flirted. If he saw
something, he took without asking, but then again, he’d never encountered a
challenge before, a conquest worth having. When the man refused to answer,
Revo
went on, “Who knew all this trouble was caused by a
little thing like you.”

“You know what I am?” The man
blurted, sounding surprised He wriggled a little and
Revo
released his wrists, but kept him trapped with his arms and body. The man
turned slowly, looked up at him fearlessly, although he trembled a little.
Revo
couldn’t blame him. Most men, mortal or otherwise,
took one look at him and decided running away was better than trying to take
him on.

“Only a few things in the world can
do something like this.”

“I am not a thing. I have a name.
It’s Ezra and I’m a living breathing being who has much right to live in this
fucked-up world as you.” The man jabbed a finger into his chest, right over the
Hellhounds patch sewn into his jacket.

Not a lot of folks had the guts to
mess with any of them, and Ezra’s fearlessness made it hard for
Revo
to look away, or for that matter, leave him alone.
Hell, Ezra only made the bulge in his jeans worse.

“You’re a fucking incubus and
you’ve been feeding on the people in Hellhound territory. You know what we do
to outsiders who hurt what’s ours?”

Ezra swallowed, biting his bottom
lip, and then nodded. “You guys don’t just kill them, but you make the killing
slow and good to send a message. Some folks say the hounds have acquired the
taste of human flesh.”

Quite a stretch of imagination, but
Revo
didn’t bother correcting him. The Hellhounds did
whatever they needed to protect their territory from supernatural and human
reavers
and poachers. That kind of sentence Ezra mentioned
had only been reserved for the worse though, but
Revo
needed Ezra scared enough not to repeat his mistakes. Killing him was the last
thing on
Revo’s
mind.

“I need to eat like everyone else,”
Ezra finally whispered, dropping his gaze.

Revo
lifted his chin, idly began to thumb the slight stubble there, before pressing
down on Ezra’s bottom lip.
Revo
expected Ezra to
fight back, maybe bite down his finger like a rabid animal. Instead he opened
his tempting cupid-shaped mouth. Ezra started nibbling on the tip at first,
before his heat enveloped
Revo’s
finger right to his
knuckle, all the while looking at him with strange, expressive, green cat-like
eyes.

Hard not to imagine Ezra on his
knees, putting his talented mouth to better use, to see his cat-like tongue
darting back and forth on
Revo’s
length, before
Revo
tugged his hair and took control. So easy to push Ezra
on the table, hear the fabric of his clothes and jeans rip so
Revo
could finally feast. Take in every delicious inch of
his prize with his gaze before his hands did their work.

Shit.
Only a few minutes with Ezra and
Revo
had nearly
fallen under the incubus’ damn spell. If
Revo
let
this charade go any further, he’d be the one dancing on Ezra’s puppet strings.
Revo
didn’t play well to the tune of someone else’s music
because each Hellhound lived by their own code.

To regain his control,
Revo
replaced lust with a familiar emotion. Anger. He let
the rage wash over him, purify everything else. Ezra must have sensed the
change, because he pulled his finger out.
Revo
growled at him.

“Did you think tempting me would
force me to let you go, you fucking parasite? You think your party tricks would
work on someone like me?”
Revo
nearly gripped his
wrists, but decided touching Ezra would tip the scales over again. He didn’t
know how Ezra worked his abilities, but
Revo
bet
physical contact played a huge part.

Ezra’s face twisted. “I had to try.
Can’t blame a man for trying, can you?”

“You’d kill just so you could live?
You figure your life is worth more than your victims then?”

“Aren’t you the same?” Ezra spat
back. “You don’t have the fucking right to lecture me.”

Revo
couldn’t help be impressed by Ezra’s stubborn insistence to live, when half of
the world’s dwindling population considered a quick death a better alternative
to a slow one.

On his bad days,
Revo
woke up, wondering why the hell he even bothered.
Revo
chose this life. Knew riding with the Hellhounds was
the only way he could live, but sometimes he got sick of the endless cycle of
death, fucking, and violence. Sometimes a man needed something new and shiny to
occupy his mind.

Revo’s
gaze settled on Ezra again. He saw past the fire in his green eyes, the
delicate trace of veins beneath his smooth skin, and the pulse beating so
strongly against his neck. Life, he didn’t want to extinguish and let go to
waste. No.
Revo
wanted to taste Ezra’s pulse, feel it
leaping to his lips.

Decision made,
Revo
played his game.
“I hold your life in my hands, Ezra. Me.
I can say what I want. Do what I want. You broke our laws. It’s about time you
pay up.”

Panicked, Ezra clawed his long
slender fingers into the thin material of
Revo’s
plain black tee. Like
Revo
predicted, he switched to
pleas. “Please. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Ezra’s gaze desperately searched
for the sympathy and understanding
Revo
couldn’t
give. Bad times bred hard men.
Survivors.
Revo
and his brothers didn’t live this long because
they showed mercy. He couldn’t just let Ezra go. Mace expected
Revo
to kill Ezra, so the only other way was to keep him.

“Some of those folks you left
behind are husks. Zombies. Unable to properly function and the only thing left
on their minds is sex.”

Genuine confusion showed on Ezra’s
face. Made
Revo
wondered if Ezra was just that good
an actor, or he made a mistake. Not that it mattered. His decision remained the
same. “That’s—not the way it should happen.”

“Nothing is the way we expect it to
happen.”

Ezra sagged against him, looking
miserable and pathetic in his defeat.
Revo
easily
caught his light frame. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Ezra’s
faded jeans.

“Do what you’re here to do then.
That’s your job isn’t it? To hunt down the soulless incubus hunting in your
territory?” Ezra accused.

“Aw. Disappointed
me
right there. Thought you’d have more fight in you.” What
the hell possessed him to say those words? Because
Revo
enjoyed Ezra’s lips twisting into a cruel sneer, the way defiance sparked in
his eyes?

“Go figure. You want your prey to
give you some chase don’t you? I bet a big bad biker wolf like you gets off on
that.” Ezra swallowed, eying his rock hard erection.

Revo
smirked. If Ezra thought he would be offended, then he made a mistake. He took
a few steps back, glanced at his wristwatch, then back at Ezra staring at him,
looking impossibly pale. “My name’s
Revo
. How about I
give you a thirty second head start?”

Ezra didn’t hesitate. He turned his
back and ran, nearly stumbling over a few fallen bodies, but he picked himself
back up again and shot out of the rickety door.
Revo’s
smirk widened when he heard the rumble of his bike outside.

“What a smart soul-sucking fiend.”
Revo
took his time exiting the roadhouse, whistling a crude
song under his breath.

He had already thought of a hundred
different ways to torment and tease Ezra once he got him back. Ezra might not
be a stranger to pleasure, but
Revo
wasn’t daunted.
Unlike most men, he’d be patient. Take his time. What Ezra didn’t know couldn’t
hurt him.
Revo
didn’t intend to make him his toy. His
beast recognized what Ezra was the moment he caught Ezra’s scent.
Mate.
Mine.