Blood, p.1
Blood, page 1
A KINGS OF SIN TITLE
KER DUKEY
CONTENTS
Books By Ker Dukey
Note for the reader
Intro
1. Happily ever…
2. Our firefly
3. Into the darkness
4. ANGER
5. Meet the King
6. Clubhouse
7. Lust, the infernal fire
8. It’s all fun and games…
9. Girl Fight
10. It’s complicated
11. Secrets and bullets
12. Death wish
13. The devil is calling
14. Devil/King
15. Queen beats everything
16. Knives, wives and broken lives
17. Revelations
18. Cops and monsters calling
19. Friend or foe
Note
About
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2024 Ker Dukey
Cover Design: Cover Couture
Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Nerdword editing
Proof-reader – Teresa Nicholson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
BOOKS BY KER DUKEY
Standalone Novels:
I See You
The Beats in Rift
Memory
Lost Boy
Dark Queen
Kings of Blood and Money
Empathy Series:
Empathy
Desolate
Vacant – Novella
Deadly – Novella
The Broken Series:
The Broken
The Broken Parts of Us
The Broken Tethers That Bind Us – Novella
The Broken Forever – Novella
The Men by Numbers Series:
Ten
Six
Drawn to You Duet:
Drawn to You
Lines Drawn
Royal Bastard MC Series:
Grim (website) – short story
Animal
Rage
Carnage
Havoc
Co-Written with D. Sidebottom
Standalone title:
LOST
The Deception Series:
FaCade
Cadence
Beneath Innocence – Novella
The Lilith’s Army MC Series:
Taking Avery
Finding Rhiannon
Coming Home TBA
Co-Written with K Webster
The Pretty Little Dolls Series:
Pretty Stolen Dolls
Pretty Lost Dolls
Pretty New Doll
Pretty Broken Dolls
The V Games Series:
Vlad
Ven
Vas
KKinky Reads Collection:
Share Me
Choke Me
Daddy Me
Watch Me
Hurt Me
Play Me
Joint Series
Four Fathers Series:
Blackstone by J.D. Hollyfield
Kingston by Dani René
Pearson by K Webster
Wheeler by Ker Dukey
Four Sons Series:
Nixon by Ker Dukey
Hayden by J.D Hollyfield
Brock by Dani René
Camden by K Webster
The Elite Seven Series:
Lust – Ker Dukey
Pride – J.D. Hollyfield
Wrath – Claire C. Riley
Envy – M.N. Forgy
Gluttony – K Webster
Sloth – Giana Darling
Greed – Ker Dukey & K Webster
NOTE FOR THE READER
This is a Ker Dukey title; therefore, it contains violence, gore and, of course, badassery.
The story also contains graphic depictions of death that may be upsetting for non-Ker Dukey readers. Read with caution.
I loved writing these characters and their story, and I can't wait for you to dive into their journey and enjoy it as much as I did.
Hugs & dark love, Ker
INTRO
Darkness is always waiting to snuff out the light.
Happily-ever-after is not fated for everyone.
And the bond that links family is only sometimes one of
CHAPTER 1
HAPPILY EVER…
PRINCESS/ROGUE
Unlucky. Isn’t that what they say when the groom sees the bride the night before the wedding?
Tyler’s tongue sweeps through my mouth, the growl in the back of his throat demanding as he grinds his crotch against the apex of my thighs. I came to the clubhouse to look for my sister—and Tyler caught me. He’s a shark smelling blood in the water. There’s no circling, just a straight-out attack. After he tossed me over his shoulder to the cheers of his brothers, he marched me to his room, and now I’m pinned against the bedroom wall. Captured prey for his devouring.
“Let’s get married right now so I can fuck you sore tonight,” he says with a husky grumble, cupping my tits and squeezing to the point of pain. I moan on cue, rotating my hips to graze the bulge hardening against me.
I’ve studied Tyler over the years. He’s all about precise movements, moaning at the right time with a congratulations afterward and a sated sigh. It would shock the shit out of him to know I sometimes go to the bathroom after we fuck, to finish myself off.
“Come lie down with me.” He tugs on my arm, dragging me toward his bed. The heavy scent of booze, smoke, and bad decisions lingers in the room. The sheets are rumpled and stained. The last dregs from a beer bottle leak onto the carpet from the trash can beside the bed. Gross. I’d rather be home with Harley, having a girls’ night.
“I came to find my sister,” I protest between kisses, attempting to wiggle free and failing. Tyler is a good-looking man and fifteen years my senior. He has a confidence about him that you only get with experience.
His sandy brown hair is pulled back from his face and tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The scruff of his beard hasn’t seen a razor in weeks, but the scrape of it is familiar and almost comforting as he deepens our kiss. The taste of liquor burns my tongue from his evening of drinking in celebration of his last night of being “single.”
Such a joke.
There’s no way Tyler will be faithful. He hasn’t been up to this point. Club sluts aren’t shy when gossiping about him.
If only I could magic up enough emotion to care.
Resting his forehead against mine, he closes his eyes to catch his breath, offering me a reprieve from his drunken onslaught.
“Your sister isn’t here.” He wrinkles his brow as his hands creep down to grab my hips, the possession and need bruising as he digs the pads of his fingers into my supple flesh. I like the bite of pain, and he knows it. “If she is, I haven’t seen her,” he adds.
Shit. I thought for sure Harley would be here. She lives for club parties.
He adds pressure to my hips when I remain silent, and a moan slips past my lips. “Stay the night,” he begs, lust pouring from him like a teen boy on prom night.
Music vibrates the walls. The brothers’ raucous laughter carries down the hallway, reminding us there’s a party happening a few feet away. “You’re missing the fun,” I tempt, my fingers dancing over the president patch on his cut. Leaning forward, I kiss the club colors. I love this club, I love him, but it’s not an overwhelming love. It’s a familiar love. A love you have when you’ve known someone your whole life—grown up with them—a family love.
“You’re the only fun I care about.” He exhales, thrusting his hips forward.
“It’s bad luck,” I tell him, biting my lip.
“Like you give a shit about tradition,” he scoffs, taking my earlobe between his teeth. “I’ve fucked you every which way from Sunday before this wedding, what’s one more time?”
I don’t give a shit about tradition. But I do want to find Harley. We made a pact to spend tonight doing sisterly stuff. This wedding has been coming for a long time, but there’s a hummingbird inside me flapping her rampant wings, trying to free herself from the cage I’ve trapped her in. I need my sister. I need tonight without him.
Pushing the unwanted thoughts away, I refocus on Tyler. “She hasn’t been home since the party yesterday.” My tone is firmer. I manage to loosen his grip on me with hands pushing at his shoulders.
He sighs and releases me, backing away. Slipping off his cut, he drags his t-shirt over his head, displaying the ink decorating his toned torso.
“It’s my last night as a Stewart,” I pout. I sway my hips as I walk toward him. My hands come up to stroke his now bare chest. The enormous skull tattoo inked on his skin, complete with devil horns, comes to life under my touch. “Tomorrow, I’m all yours. Forever,” I say, ignoring the pit widening in my stomach at the reality of those words.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he flattens me against him, the heat of his bre ath dispersing over my lips. “You’ve always been mine.” There’s ownership in his words. A warning. He knows I haven’t been with anyone but him. It would be a death sentence to any poor soul I took to my bed.
Yet, the claw marks on his shoulder prove it’s a one-way rule. My eyes flick to my short nails, painted with a clear polish and black tips. No, it wasn’t me who made those marks. No doubt it was Jenna, a.k.a. Barbie, his favorite club slut with her ridiculous fake nails that look more like talons, if talons were painted bright pink with sparkly jewels glued on them. I think I just threw up in my mouth.
“What are you thinking about?” He frowns, strong fingers tugging a strand of my auburn hair.
“You, tomorrow, and finding Harley,” I lie with a shrug.
“Fine.” He exhales, exasperated, before releasing me once more. “Go see Bear. If anyone knows if she’s been here, it’s him.”
I slip my hands into the pockets of my jean shorts and give him my best sweet-girl smile. I pissed him off by not submitting to his requests, but I’m an ol’ lady, not a club slut—I will not be sucking his dick and stroking his ego just because he’s horny.
“Which Bear will I be getting today?” I ask.
Bear is the club’s sergeant at arms. His road name comes from the contradiction of his personality. On any given day, he’s either a mother bear, taking care of us all, or a bear with a sore head, tearing everyone a new one.
Tyler pushes a hand through his hair, swipes up a half-empty bottle of Jack, and takes a deep swig. “You have him wrapped around your finger. You always get mama bear.” He scoffs. I’m almost at the door when he calls out. “Come back, though, yeah? I need to feel you tonight.” He throws himself onto the bed and grabs his crotch to rearrange his junk before tipping back the bourbon.
I don’t know why everyone gets drunk the night before their wedding. Hangovers are an idiot’s game. Feeling like shit and puking is not how I want to spend my wedding day. I hope he keeps drinking. It gives him a limp dick. He won’t be able to feel it later, let alone use it.
“Can’t wait,” I mutter under my breath, righting my clothing and slipping out of his room.
It’s rowdy at the clubhouse tonight, with the energy amplified. It’s been a while since we’ve had a wedding. Mine has been on the table for some time, but I made Tyler wait until I finished my veterinarian degree. I didn’t want to end up knocked up and drop out. He talks about getting me pregnant as soon as we’re married. Being a mom isn’t something I’ve really thought about, but I’ve wanted to be a vet since I was a kid and a monster figured it would be funny to strap a firework to my cat’s tail and set it off. His family didn’t find it funny when my daddy burned down their house.
The familiar twinge tightens my chest at the thought of my dad. Thirteen years since his death, and I’m still raw. Everyone tells you that time heals wounds, but it’s a lie. Time only slows the bleeding.
Mom tried her best to pick up the pieces after his death, but she was useless even before he died. She was a teen mom when she had me still trying to raise herself. That’s why Harley and I are so close. I practically brought her up.
I rap my knuckles on Bear’s door, surprised to hear his deep, aggressive voice call out, “Better be fucking good.”
I hide my grin. His mood will shift when he sees it’s me. I push the door open, and the smell of bike grease and sweat hits me in the face as I cross the threshold. Bear’s mammoth figure dwarfs the desk he’s curled over. Whatever is on his screen has him transfixed.
“Isn’t porn beneath you?” I jest, sitting my ass on the edge of his bed.
His head whips up, the chair beneath him straining from the sudden movement. “Rogue,” he beams. The lines on his forehead iron out. A flood of warmth expands in my chest. His pet name for me is the same one my daddy used. Dad used to say that I was nothing like my namesake. I was more like him, a rule breaker.
“No one is above watching porn. You know you’re in a clubhouse, right?” Bear mocks, frowning.
“Yes, do you?” I raise a brow. Every other brother is out in the main room getting drunk. The place is full of women desperate for the chance to spend the night with a Devil, and here he is, in his room, leaning over his computer like a teenage boy.
“It’s not porn. It’s business,” he says dryly.
Bear is constantly dealing with business. If it weren’t for him, this place would probably collapse. He’s old school and rose through the ranks during my father’s era, when Tyler’s dad was the club president. Tyler was too young to take the baton at the time, and Bear knew it, but brothers like tradition and loyalty. Tyler had been raised to take over the club, it was just…no one had expected it to happen so soon.
A sudden sound screeches from a machine on a small table beside the bed. I mimic the sound involuntarily, gripping my chest and almost falling off the mattress. A smile curls my lips as Bear’s deep chuckle reverberates through the room. “Sorry, Rogue. It’s a printer, not a bomb.” Lights begin flickering from the machine. After a couple of seconds, it spits out what looks like photographs. “Pass them over, will ya?” He turns back to his computer and taps on the keyboard.
“Who are they?” I hand over the first couple of images of a group of men standing outside what looks like a bar.
“Kings of Sin members,” he grunts, disdain coloring his tone. My stomach knots at the mention of my father’s killers. A buzzing beginning behind my eyes.
“Why?” I ask, blowing out a shaky breath staring down at the images.
He takes them from me, then jerks his chin toward the printer as it deposits more pictures into the tray. “We need to know the members and their ranks. I keep a record.”
That’s smart.
“Their president was killed last night,” he says with a somber grunt. My head whips up. I feel the erratic pounding of my heart in every vein. Tyler didn’t mention anything about it. Why didn’t he tell me?
“Us?” I ask, a tremor snaking over my skin. The buzz behind my eyes turning to a thump.
“No,” he states, his voice hard, shutting my brain down before it can even run with the possibility or the repercussions if one of ours had killed their president.
The Kings of Sin have grown exponentially over the last decade. Compared to us, they have more chapters, wealth, and connections. To make a move on their president would be suicide. The rift between our clubs will always be there—there’s too much pain to wash away—but there haven’t been any violent attacks in years.
“Rogue, don’t start overthinking,” he warns, jabbing a finger at the printer.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” I say sheepishly, handing him more pictures.
Collecting the next photo, I pause. Heat blossoms in my lower stomach. My pulse skitters. A dark-haired man with a half-hooked smile stares up at me like he’s posing for the camera, as if there’s a secret they share, and goddamn, I want in on it. He’s breathtaking. Too beautiful to be real. The tattoos spiraling up his forearms and the patches covering his leather cut do nothing to harden him—not with that smile.
“Don’t let the pretty face fool you. He’s a stone-cold killer,” Bear informs me, reading my thoughts.
Embarrassment claws up my cheeks. “He’s a King. He could shit gold and have a nine-inch, bent-tipped dick and I’d never touch him.” I shiver as my vagina betrays me, soaking my panties.
Bear scrunches his nose and snatches the picture from me. “Glad to hear it. Because he’s their VP, the club’s his now.”
“I’m a Devil through and through.” I scoot off the bed and stroke a hand through my hair, hoping he doesn’t see how flushed my cheeks are. I’ve never reacted to a man like that before, but I meant what I said. He may as well be made of stone and live on the moon.
