Series: The Black Viper Series #1
Author: Micki Fredricks
Genre: Dark NA Romance
Release: November 21, 2015
Tight Everly, Sergeant-at-Arms of The Black Vipers M.C.
In the world of The Black Vipers, sin runs free and I'm sin personified.
Given permission by the cut I wear, I take whatever the emptiness inside me desires, by any means necessary.
Unfortunately, the truth sin doesn’t want you to know–nothing is ever free. It takes payment in flesh and degradation.
A highly venomous predator, it slithers around inside of you, wreaking havoc and claiming your soul as its own.
Sasha was the savior to my sinful ways…only she didn’t want the job.
When sin rules your life, there are no boundaries. You take without regret.
She would be my salvation, even if I had to play the Devil to get her.
Being near Tight was like standing on the edge of a raging fire.
The heat dangerously intoxicating, offering protection from the darkness while promising the burn of betrayal if I got too close.
Yet here I stand, staring endlessly into the dancing flames, not noticing the building smoke or the ache of his all-consuming heat.
Unfortunately, I know how this story ends. Burned beyond recognition and discarded, I’m turned to ash without a second thought.
Completely destroyed by him.
There had to be a way to avoid the damage he’d inflict. The problem was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Because with Tight, this kind of burn feels amazing.
**WARNING** Dark Contemporary Romance/New Adult Novel.
Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up.
“A bomb has exploded in my brain … what the hell did I just read; wait not read, devour in one sitting. Ben “Tight” Everly, Sergeant at Arms, that’s what … and the Black Vipers M.C. Good gawd. This is one where you don’t want to read “this is a work of fiction.” Hell no please make Tight Everly real. I don’t know who Robin Harper is either but the cover; yeah I need to give the lady a fist bump.”~ 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 Ramblings from Beneath the Sheets
“Hot damn! I found a new MC Romance author to stalk! My fellow biker romance lovers, listen up. This is a series that you don't want to pass up. My clicker finger is already twitching, ready for another, and another.” ~ 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 iScream Books
“I loved this book! Once I started, I didn't want to put it down. This is a beautifully written story with amazing characters with an ending that will WOW you.” 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 Goodreads Reviewer
TEN YEARS EARLIER
It’s an open, oozing wound, festering inside my head. I crave it like a strung out, drug-sick junkie. It gives me a high I’ve never found at the bottom of a bottle or chasing the needle and believe me, I’ve tried some crazy shit in my sixteen years. But fear, that’s a different kind of addiction for me.
It’s the only constant in my life. Slithering around my spine, it whispers to be careful, warning my stupid ass to be alert, be smarter than the next homeless screw-up.
Fear has kept me alive...and I just told it to go fuck itself because this time, I’m doing it my way.
The voices echoed upward toward me, bouncing around the dark, cavernous warehouse I’d called home for the last six months. From inside my safe haven in the rafters, I leaned closer to the thin boards that were the only barrier between me and the crowd below.
My heart lurched forward, pounding painfully, but I loved it; a little too much.
A twisted fantasy of mine played out in front of me, turning my emotions into a hurricane. I struggled to stay still. I wanted to be closer, hear the words and feel the excitement.
Six inches off the ground hung a man, naked and bound by chains wrapped around his bloodied wrists. His wild eyes searched the darkness for a rescue that would never come.
Muffled screams fell on deaf ears as he fought against the gag tied around his mouth. Sweat rolled off of him in rivers, mixing with the dirt and blood as he arched his back not wanting to leave any angle open. Crazy fucker, I’d close my eyes and let them come. Who wants to see death face to face?
A gaping hole in his thigh gushed blood around the knife left where it had sliced through the tissue.
The sight of his torture triggered something inside of me. A slow smile stretched my dry lips as I realized, for the first time ever, I wasn’t afraid. Energy snapped through my veins making me flex my fists open and shut at my sides.
I dug up the bones of buried memories I’d tried for so long to keep at bay. My soul screamed silently as the faces of every bastard who’d unleashed their punishment on me, flashed like a horror movie in my mind. Normally I would cower from these flashbacks. But today, I relished in them, letting all the pain wash over me like a new beginning.
And there I was in my memory, a small boy, unable to protect myself from sadistic hands and bloodshot eyes. Pinching, burning and unspeakable things that should never happen to anyone, all happening to me.
My constant companion--fear--tried to rear its ugly head. But I pushed it down. A small spark ignited somewhere inside of me, something I’d always wanted but never knew I could have. A desire to do more than just survive. I wanted fucking revenge.
The terror in the doomed man’s eyes empowered me, warming my chest as I longed to be a part of the destruction they had planned for him.
His captors taunted him, staying far enough in the shadows to keep their faces hidden, but close enough there was no mistaking their presence.
They circled him like the predators they were, letting it be known he was merely a play thing.
Prey to be toyed with, destroyed and discarded.
Every skeleton from my closet came out to play as I enjoyed the show. The savage faces haunting me, now hung in place of this unlucky bastard, who had obviously pissed off the wrong people.
They were bikers. The Black Vipers to be exact and there was no denying their reputation for being ruthless. From what I’d seen in the last fifteen minutes, the rumors were true. I was sure as shit, losing my mind to think I could mess with them. But that was the plan.
The back of their denim cuts were embellished with their signature insignia, a snake with blood red eyes wrapped around a skull. The bottom rocker proudly displayed, Midwest. Most clubs claimed a state, these guys claimed the whole Midwest region.
This wasn't the first time I’d seen someone about to be butchered. The streets weren’t warm and fuzzy, they were dirty and desperate and there was always someone willing to sell their soul to the devil for their sin of choice. But this was the first time I planned on sticking around to watch and, if it was my lucky day, join in.
A man stepped out of the shadows. His eyes black and without pity. He didn't seem to enjoy the scene-didn't seem not to. The coldness he carried toward taking a man’s life made me shiver. He was a true killer.
His cut read Road Captain.
The hanging man turned sharply in his direction, hissing as the chains cut deeper into his mauled skin. His bulging eyes crazed with fear.
The Viper stepped up, pulled out a long, serrated knife, and slowly drew it across the man’s chest.
Throwing his head back, the hanging man’s eyes rolled back from the pain before screaming out in agony against the gag. Blood beaded in the cut at first as the knife sliced the skin wide open, but quickly changed to rivers streaming down his torso, pooling on the floor below him.
A dark haired man stepped up next, stopping the Road Captain with a just a nod.
I strained to read his patch.
My stomach lurched as I closed my eyes and laid my forehead on the boards in front of me. Holy. Shit.
He ran The Black Vipers and was as vicious as they came. This dumb ass plan of mine...I was as good as dead.
Pops reached up, pulling the gag from the soon to be dead, man’s mouth.
“Please, Pops,” he begged. “Please, I will tell you everything.”
Pops stood with his arms crossed at his chest. His tone was calm as he shook his head.
“It’s too late for that shit and you know it.”
The hanging man thrashed around, attempting to release himself from the chains. Screaming out again and again.
The Black Vipers just watched. No one moved, no one talked. They stood quiet like angels of death, waiting to deliver their sentence.
I scoffed to myself. Even if this stupid son of a bitch got loose, did he think he could fight his way through the five or six Vipers surrounding him?
Pops began pacing in front of the man, drawing in slow steady breaths, as he meticulously rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.
A small tremor began in my core. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as the atmosphere changed.
He spoke again, anger boiling just under the surface of his controlled tone.
“I gave you every opportunity to get me the information I needed. And what do you do? Stab me in the back? Try to bring down my club, my family!”
He lunged toward the hanging man, twisting the knife sticking out of his thigh. The man arched his back, screaming and crying in agony.
“No one fucks with The Black Vipers then tries to make a deal, you stupid asshole!”
I turned quickly, making my decision. If they heard me, I was a dead man. Not like it mattered, I was probably dead anyway with the plan I had.
If they’d known about ADHD when I was little, my Ritalin dosage would've been OFF THE CHARTS!!It goes without saying; I spent A LOT of time by myself after the teacher moved my desk out into the hallway. ** Silver lining** With all that alone time on my hands, I used my imagination to make the world a more interesting place. When I was little, people said I had an "active imagination". In elementary school, teachers called me a "daydreamer". My high school counselor said I needed to “learn how to focus" and my college professors warned me to "buckle down". Before I knew it, it was time to “grow up”.So that's what I did. I grew up, got married and had five kids. I work as a full time nurse, I'm active in my church, part of the most amazing book-club, blog about books with my best friends and cart small humans to school, football, theater, dance ect. Oh yeah...and write a bit when I can and now people call me "talented". Moral of my life story: Hug your kids, embrace their differences. Love them for who they are. Someday, the traits you think are struggles now… Might be exactly what they needed to turn their dreams into reality!Micki lives in small town Iowa with her husband, kids and a fat Cocker Spaniel named Joey. She is the author of Winds of Darkness and Chasing Jenna.