Maren

One Month Earlier

“He’s a monster,” Paisley said, leaning over the bar. Whore had rainbow hair this week.

No wonder I always felt like she was hitting on me.

With a smirk, she rubbed my arm a little too friendly. “Maren, you are way too beautiful and talented for the likes of Levi.” She batted her long pink fake lashes like a toad in a hailstorm.

“Levi?” I asked, yanking my arm out of her reach.

It wasn’t that her coming on to me was repulsive. Traveling, I’d witnessed every lifestyle. Nothing bothered me. It was just she reminded me of a clown I fucked in the circus. And here at Royal Road, I learned quickly, Paisley was a low whore on the totem pole. Everyone was on top of her. I wasn’t about to catch something in my limited time here.

Were they on such friendly terms that Leviathan had a nickname?

Picking up my drink with the hand I stole from her, I grinned just like when I graced the stage. Like a possum eating sweet potato. Tilting the glass, I sucked down the strawberry margarita and licked the salt from my lips.

The free drinks were the best thing about this place.

Paisley took that as why I drew away from her so quickly. Good. I needed to be liked around here though I was rarely liked anywhere I went.

Strong women usually weren’t.

She explained it to me like I was a toddler, “Levi’s his for real name. Leviathan is his road name.”

“I know all about road names,” I said, shaking the ice in my glass to show her I wanted another.

I even had a road name myself, almost.

Paisley refilled my drink. “We get tired of saying Leviathan. It’s too damn long if you ask me. Monster or not, he doesn’t mind being called Levi. But about anything else will set him off.”

“What makes him a monster again?” Though everyone said, no one had expounded on the claim.

Yeah, the biker looked like he’d rip someone in two. I got that much. That only turned me on. Standing about six-five with the build of an athlete, a much larger torso and wingspan, the guy had a presence alright. The menacing tattoos didn’t help. Though most of the time, he was clothed. Wearing a t-shirt and jeans with his leather motorcycle vest, he covered up most of his body, of course. And cuts, their colors, I knew about them too. His proudly proclaimed he was the Enforcer of this bunch.

Even so, every inch of his exposed skin was covered in ink. And a time or two I’d watched him coming from the basement where the bikers had a temporary gym since their other one had burned down. Therefore, I’d seen him in his gray sweatpants that were about to fall off.

Holy fuck.

Hovering just over the scrumptious V-shaped muscle diving into his pants, I discovered where those black tentacle tattoos began. Running up his side and barely missing his six-pack, they coated him. Tentacles climbed his large forearms, creeping up his back and biceps to swathe his broad shoulders and thick neck in black ink. They flowed as high as his bald head and encircled it like a cap.

But he wasn’t hairless like an old man. Sometimes a slight stubble returned, but the next day his head would be shiny and clean again. So, bald by choice. The same was true of his body and his chin, smooth. Great for me because I never fancied the beard most of the bikers wore in these clubs.

Thankfully, his face was also free of tats. I didn’t care for that look either. Reminded me too much of a criminal, like the felons we’d hire on the road to set up our traveling show. But yes, this biker was a criminal, I’d been told.

Although I hadn’t seen him smile once, he was absolutely gorgeous in a tough guy way. Plus, there was a glint in his eye that told me he wasn’t a simpleton as many strong men were likely to be. At least from a far, since I’d not encountered him yet. And even better, by the looks of him, there was no way in hell he could be over forty. A good thing for me since I was twenty-eight. I didn’t like my men being too much older.

Hell. It didn’t matter what kind of man I preferred. All I knew was that I had to get close to this monster.

My life depended on it.

“You want to know what made him a monster? Ever since his wife...”

“Fuck, he’s married?”

“Yeah, technically. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble though. He’s the cock of this hen house.”

He’s not faithful? Regardless, that made my mission a lot harder.

“And about him being a monster?” I tried to get her to go on.

“Well, besides him being our Enforcer which means he’d rather kill you than look at ya....”

“He’s a murderer?” I interrupted her again, acting shocked. It might be easier than I thought to get something on this biker. “Who has he killed?”

“Is there a Royal Bastard around here who hasn’t killed someone?” Paisley said as if manslaughter was a prerequisite to join. However, she quickly changed her tune. “But I don’t know all the particulars. That’s club business. We’re forbidden from speaking about that.”

Her “we” meant the sweetbutts, the whores.

“All I know is that the meanest bikers in this club shake in their boots at the mere mention of getting on Leviathan’s shit list. That’s enough for me.”

“Is that all?” I dug in my bowl of nuts for a spicy one and popped it in my mouth.

Taking in a breath, Paisley lifted her shoulders and dropped them, dramatically. She was giving in.

“Leviathan is ruthless, basically. There’s no line he won’t cross. Like Kingpin, our Prez is very reluctant to even strike a woman. He has Memphis keep us in line around here. For him to do something to a woman, she’d have to have done something atrocious. Outside of the bedroom that is. Pagan, our VP has a soft spot for his blind sister and doesn’t do much that would truly bother her or endanger her. Nothing he’d let her find out about at least. Levi has no such rules for himself anymore, not since his sister died. He’s pure evil. All he thinks about is killing this one or that one. Which makes him even worse in the sack, rough and uncaring. If you plan on taking him to bed, take some Tylenol first.”

“Yikes,” I said, although just the thought of it turned me on.

“And it’s not just for the bruises he’ll give you. Man is hung like a pizza.”

“You mean a horse?”

“No, a large pizza. Sixteen inches.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Well, I know that, but a horse doesn’t do it justice. Believe me.”

“How about a moose?”

“What am I fucking Canadian? I’ve never seen a moose’s wang. I’m sticking with a large pizza. We sweetbutts have a scale around here. We’ve done run out of animals.”

“You’ve been with Leviathan?”

“Once, but it was ages ago. Too much pizza for me.” Her eyes got wide to convey her message.

I got it. “Well, what does he like?” If I was going to catch this gigantic fish, I needed to know what lure to use.

“Maren, you really are too good for him. For God’s sake, you’ve got it made here at Royal Road. I’ve heard you’ve not turned any tricks. You think everyone’s so impressed with your exotic dances no one expects you to entertain our guests after hours,” Paisley complained.

“No. I’ve not been with anyone.”

I would add I wasn’t a whore, but it would offend her. And it’d blow my cover. Royal Road might not be your average MC clubhouse, but it was still a meat market.

Nevertheless, I did hold out my hands, explaining, “I was hired strictly for my act. Not as a stripper. Opry said everything else was optional.”

He also said I’d be compensated well if I chose to take the bikers or the high rollers to my bed.

“Opry always says that. He has to. Guess things have changed.” Paisley crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. She didn’t seem incredibly happy about it.

“Wasn’t always like this?”

“Our Prez took an Ol’ Lady,” she declared like it was the end of the world, like it explained everything.

That was what the bikers called their wives, Ol’ Ladies. And I knew her President recently married. It was the talk of the club.

“I’m sure you heard. And Memphis, the bombshell blonde over there is his ex.”

I tracked her gaze to see the stripper completely naked on the stage. Bent over, she showed off her cooter and pooter at once. I knew of her, too.

“She’s one of his exes. Anyway, she used to manage us sweetbutts. Memphis made sure we all understood what our guests expected here at Royal Road. If you’re on the payroll, you play ho, was her motto. You were hired just as she decided that wasn’t her job anymore.”

Thank God.

Paisley wagged a pointed nail at me. “But don’t think it’s going to last. Sweet Tea wants to step up and keep us in line. She’s been here in the evenings, putting in extra hours hoping to get Opry’s attention.”

“Thanks for the warning. Back to Levi.” I tried on his real name.

“Girl, you don’t want to mess with him.”

The whore didn’t know how wrong she was. Not only would I have to mess with him, hearing how dangerous he was did nothing but excite me.

Downing my new drink, I crunched the ice. Then I turned my back on her. I was done. She was useless.

That got her to talk.

“Maren, wait.”

I spun back to her. Resting an elbow on the bar, I propped my chin up on a hand, waiting.

“You don’t have to do much to attract him. I’ve seen him watching your performances.” She rolled her eyes, clearly not appreciating the art of contortion. “Watching you in general. Not sure why he hasn’t made his move yet.”

Oh, I hadn’t noticed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, man’s drooling. Trust me. There’s nothing that gets past me when it comes to this club. You’ve done something to him.”

“I’ve not given him the time of day.”

Hell, I hadn’t given any men any attention. I’d only done my act, a seductive contortionist’s display, all done topless, but not bottomless like most of the strippers here. And I’ve not fallen for any of the biker’s advancements. Not just that, I’d escaped them completely, but that wouldn’t always be the case.

The men who patronized this place were too scared to upset a whore and earn the wrath of their biker pimps. You could tell them to get lost if you felt like it. But the club members didn’t usually take no for an answer. So far, I’d lucked out, having plenty of whores around to pawn the bikers off on. Naturally, I hung out with all the other girls, so I could direct all the men who wanted me someone else’s way.

Eventually, my luck would run out. I was playing with fire because I might get burnt.

“Whatever you’re doing it’s working,” Paisley said with a bow, like she was impressed.

That was good to know. Basically, I’d set my trap. After all, I was deep undercover trying to catch this killer red-handed. Once I lured Leviathan in, got him attached to me, really attached, I’d tell him I was a spy for his most hated enemy, a rival biker gang, the Asphalt Gods MC.

Yes, the cruelty of it was the point.

I had my orders.

The monster would make his move. He’d try to kill me. Once that happened, I was to call the Gods to descend on Royal Road to massacre all the Royal Bastards here.

Anything to earn my patch.

I only hoped I survived.

The bikers all noticed the new dancer who wasn’t attached to anyone. They were all pestering me. I couldn’t go after Leviathan first off because that would be too suspicious. Hell, I’d waited well over a month to even ask about him.

Querying Paisley about the biker would cause her to run and tell everyone I had the hots for him. Whore was nothing if not a gossip. This place was all too obvious. I’d figured it out in no time.

I’d catch Levi sooner rather than later, but I’d have to swat all the other flies away first. It’d be much easier if he would come to me already. When he did, I’d be the girl with eyes only for him. Men were easy. But would the wife be a problem?

As it was, I was going to have to pick another biker to succumb to first as to not seem questionable. The sad one whose girl just stood him up at the altar would do. He’d been working his way through all the women here for a while now.

Next week I found myself on my knees in the dressing room with Hallow’s dick in my mouth.