Tuesday, March 26, 2024

Prophet Teaser Tuesday

 

A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

 

Dixie Reapers MC, Book 20

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: March 29, 2024

 

 

Ares – My life hasn’t always been kittens and rainbows. I spent years as a captive, so when someone breaks into the compound and threatens my little siblings, I go with the kidnappers instead. I’ve survived being enslaved before, but the little ones wouldn’t make it. I can only hope the club will find me in time.

Prophet – I’ve been patiently waiting for Ares to not only be old enough for me to date her, but also for her to be ready. But I waited too f**king long, and now she’s been taken. The bastard who has her is going to pay, and once she’s back in my arms, I’m never letting her go again.


WARNING: Prophet is intended for readers 18+ due to adult content, darker themes, language, and violence. While it can be read as a stand-alone, you may enjoy the story more if you read Joker first.

 


EXCERPT


Ares

Times had changed. The Dixie Reapers’ clubhouse no longer boasted loud parties and naked women. Well, the naked women were gone, at any rate. Music pulsed from the speakers as everyone took a much-needed break. My dad had been in Church off and on since this mess started, and more often than not, the members hung out in the clubhouse discussing the issue at hand. Except right now, the doors were open to anyone.

I sat at the bar with a soda. Portia sat on one side of me and Venom’s youngest, Dawson, was on my other side. Patched members lined the bar on either side of them.

“Pass me a beer, Ares,” Bull shouted from farther down. I reached over the counter into the ice chest, then slid the longneck down the bar top. I caught a smirk from my father as he watched.

“Hey, Pres. Think your girl has a future as a bartender,” Bull said. He chuckled and twisted the top off. “She’s got good aim.”

“Better than Foster’s aim last week,” I shot back, a playful jab at his son’s appalling shooting during target practice. He snorted and took a swallow of his beer, while Foster shot me a glare.

This place was my home. Dad and the Dixie Reapers had been my salvation, pulling me from the abyss with hands as rough as the life they led. Even though I couldn’t be a patched member, I was a Reaper’s kid. My dad had given me permission to get the club colors inked on my shoulder blade. It was a super small one compared to the ones the guys here had. I’d seen quite a few with the colors covering their entire backs. In addition, I’d gotten a phoenix rising from the ashes inked on the outside of my right thigh -- a mirror of my own rebirth.

Foster might be mad at me right now, but I knew he’d get over it. In a lot of ways, he was like a brother to me. All of the kids here close to my age felt like family. Although, Foster, Owen, and Dawson were all older than me. Not that I could tell when it came to Foster.

Cowboy’s son, Jackson, entered the clubhouse, his cowboy boots thudding against the wood floor as he came closer. He put his arms around me and hugged me from behind.

“You smell like horses and dirt.”

“Mom always said it was the best scent in the world.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Yeah, I could see his mother saying that. “Well, it’s better than sweat, I guess. Preparing for your next rodeo?”

“I was planning to head out in the morning, but with everything going on…”

I tipped my head back to look up at him. “You should go. If you put your life on hold every time something bad happens around here, you’ll never get to do the one thing you love most.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Yeah, I know. You’re awfully smart for someone so young.”

“You’re only six years older than me, Jackson. It’s not like you’re ancient.”

“In rodeo years, I’m over a decade older than you.”

I really did laugh that time. “Is that like dog years or something?”

“Close enough. Hand me a beer. I’m going to go with Akira. She’s in the corner with her nose in a book again.”

I reached over for another longneck and passed it to him. He patted my shoulder before wandering off. I watched him, noticing he hadn’t lied. Akira, Wraith’s daughter, really did have a book in front of her face. From the cover, no one would realize she was reading smut. If her parents had any idea of the types of books she bought, they’d both have a fit.

I sipped on my soda and just soaked up the atmosphere. My friends and family were all talking or laughing. Despite everything going on outside the club gates, they seemed at peace in this particular moment. Happy. I hoped things could stay like this. I didn’t want anyone here to suffer the way I had.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Tank said, approaching with a smile on his face. “Ares Black, quiet as a church mouse.”

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “Just soaking it all in. Some days, I don’t remember how blessed I am, until we’re all together like this. Family. Friendship. As long as we have those, we can weather any storm.”

“Damn straight.” He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “We’re always in your corner, Ares.”

“Same here,” I replied. It wasn’t just words -- it was a promise. We were the Dixie Reapers, and we protected our own with the ferocity of a mother bear defending her cubs. I might not be a member of the club itself, but as the President’s daughter, these people were still my family, and I’d die to keep them safe.

I glanced at my watch and stood. Joker wanted Cleo to feel welcome here, and while I wasn’t quite ready to be friends with the woman, I also knew what it was like to be the outsider. I’d promised to head over and play a board game. Instead of driving, I decided to walk. The fresh air would be nice, and it would give me time to get my thoughts in order. It felt like utter chaos inside my head these days.

Ridley and Isabella were already there when I arrived. I fell into step behind them as they entered Joker’s home. Ridley had a few board games tucked under her arm. At least they’d come prepared, because I doubted Joker had any. I’d already given them a few of the ones we had at home that I thought might be fun.

“Hey, Cleo,” I said.

“Good to see you guys.” Her voice sounded hollow, and it looked like she hadn’t been sleeping well.

Isabella walked over to her first, giving her a hug. “How are you holding up?”

“Counting down the minutes,” she said.

Ridley clapped her hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “We’re here to take your mind off things. Right, Ares?”

I nodded. “Yeah, we brought some board games. Thought we could all use a distraction.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

We settled around her kitchen table. Before we’d even had a chance to set up the game, someone knocked on the door. Joker went to answer. Ridley started to set up one of the games, and Isabella and I helped. I noticed Cleo kept glancing toward the door.

He returned with an envelope and handed it to Cleo. “For you.”

“Who’s it from?” she asked. She ripped open the envelope and as she read the contents of the paper inside, she paled a bit.

“Everything all right?” Isabella asked.

“Fine,” she said. Did anyone else notice the tremor in her voice or the way her hands trembled? “Just a reminder about my appointment.”

“Ah, can’t forget that,” Ridley said.

“Let’s focus on the game,” Cleo suggested.

I rolled the dice and gave a little shout of excitement, hoping to make things seem as normal as possible. “All right!”

Everyone took their turns rolling the dice and moving their tokens. When it went around to Cleo, she stared at the board, almost as if she wasn’t fully present. I glanced at Ridley and Isabella, and realized they’d noticed it too. Cleo must have a lot on her mind between the issues with her family and her heart problem.

“Your move, Cleo,” Ridley prompted.

“Right,” she mumbled.

We played for quite a while, until the sky started to darken. I didn’t know if this had distracted Cleo or not, but it had kept me from focusing on things for a while. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed this until now. I helped clean up the games, then we told Joker and Cleo goodbye.

Ridley offered me a ride, but I waved her off. The walk would do me some good. I paused at the clubhouse and stared at my car. It didn’t make sense to leave it here overnight, but at the same time, I’d prefer to get home on my own two feet than by driving there. I decided to leave it and kept walking.

A sudden chill prickled my skin, a whisper of danger that tightened my muscles. A feeling of unease skittered down my spine, and I wondered if trouble was drawing closer than any of us realized.

When I got home, there was a wrongness I felt all the way to my core. I slowly approached the house, keeping an eye on my surroundings, just the way Dad had taught me. I twisted the knob on the front door and pushed it open.

“Mom? Are you here?” I called out. Nothing. Not so much as a whisper of sound. I eased farther into the house, wondering if I should call Dad. Dessa’s car was outside, which meant she had to be here. She hadn’t ridden with him to the clubhouse earlier, even though she’d been there with the kids.

“Junie, Judd, Marnie!” I shouted.

No one answered, and I couldn’t find anyone at home. I went back outside, wondering if maybe they went to a neighbor’s house. Before I’d made it to the end of the driveway, I felt the cold kiss of metal against my neck.

 



About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

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