FORBIDDEN: The Stowaway PART ONE

Chapter Seven - Zay

I'm three drinks in.

Maybe four.

And Riggs, bless his stone-cold heart, makes each a double.

I moan happily and rest my chin on my hand. The non-wounded one. I'm smiling at Riggs sitting across from me at the dining table. "Tell me, Mister Riggs, what made you want to be a biker?"

"Family business."

He thumbs the rim of his glass and drains the rest, glancing up at me. The way the light is hitting his face, he looks evil. Every ridge. Every contour is illuminated.

The devil sitting right in front of me.

But when he lifts his gaze, the lights soften his face.

Beauty blooms on it. Angelic.

Little saint and sinner.

I can go for some trouble tonight.

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Nope."

I narrow my eyes. "Boyfriend?"

"Negative."

I bite my bottom lip and sit back, bringing a knee to my chest. "How old are you?"

"How old are you?" he retorts.

"Old enough."

He rakes his bottom lip, mimicking me. "That doesn't bode well with me feeding you alcohol. Does it?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He rolls his eyes and lets out a breath. Sitting back in his chair. "Twenty-five."

"Twenty-one."

He nods, the corner of his mouth curling upward. I don't know what's on his mind, but the way his eyes are eating me up is making me crazy. They're devouring, licking every inch of exposed skin. Having a feeding frenzy at my hard nipples behind this tank top.

A shiver runs through me, wondering what his tongue would feel like all over my body. To have that tingle again. That ache and want. It makes me think of Adam and how much I miss him. How I hate to miss him.

"Tell me, Zay, you a bad girl?"

Oh, baby, I can be a bad girl tonight.

I giggle. "Maybe. Maybe not."

He chuckles.

Deep.

Guttural.

Insatiable.

It scares the hell out of me. It's also driving me wild.

He nods at my wounded hand on the table, my index finger tapping on the side of the glass. "What happened to your wrist?"

I slither my hand onto my lap, hiding the scar that caused me to meet Adam a year ago. "Nothing."

Riggs drops his arm on the table and lifts his sleeve to reveal a scar. "Scar for a scar."

I frown, studying the way his supple lips twist into a smirk. "What do you mean?"

"I'll show you a scar, tell you its story, and you do the same."

It is a great way to get to know someone. See glimpses of their moments of weakness. Just like my hand. A new scar added to my body to tell my story. Will it be a memory of that time I was locked in a cabin with a husky biker? Or will it not even have time to heal by the time I'm in the ground?

His long, thick fingers brush over the sliver that interrupts the wolves on his upper arm. Snarling wolves, howling wolves. Pack of them. Most of his tattoos are dark. Not a single drop of color anywhere on his body. Like he didn't want to get anything beautiful, only evil.