Devil's Destiny

By Winter Sloane

Destiny: I made a mistake and now I’m paying for it. I borrowed money from the MC to save my mom. Now I have to spend the rest of my life taking off clothes for strangers. Each time I dance, a piece of my soul dies with me. Just when I think I won’t survive this place, he arrives. Devil. Vice-President of the Fallen Saints MC. He struck a dirty bargain and now I belong to him. Hell will freeze over before I surrender my body and heart to a criminal like him.

Devil: The moment she appeared on stage, I became obsessed. Destiny’s trouble. She’s way too young for me but I couldn’t leave an angel like her in that shithole. Destiny thinks I’ll discard her once I no longer have any use for her. She’s wrong. I’ve ridden solo my entire life but I’ve changed my mind. Destiny’s not just my plaything. I intend to make her my old lady.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Oct 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9780369502346

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2020 Winter Sloane

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0234-6

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my readers, I hope you enjoy reading Destiny and Devil’s story as much as I loved writing it.

DEVIL’S DESTINY

Fallen Saints MC, 1

Winter Sloane

Copyright © 2020

Chapter One

The moment the red-haired beauty came onstage, Devil became obsessed. Devil knew he ought to be paying attention to what Skull was saying. He rode up here to the Pink Canary, to the Skull Riders’ turf, for business, not pleasure. Besides, Devil was too old for the woman. She looked nineteen or twenty. Practically half his age.

Still, it was hard to ignore his dick straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Strange. Devil was the Vice-President of the Fallen Saints MC. He and his brothers lived by their own code. Devil could have any women he wanted and he did so. Often. No one was untouchable to him, except for some reason, the only part of him that remained decent urged him to stay away from the stripper.

No, it seemed wrong to call her that.

She reminded him of a fallen queen who had somehow found herself in the wrong place and the wrong time. Under the thin strips of lacy white undergarments that hid nothing from the imagination was the body of a goddess. She had long, shapely legs and curves to die for, but it was her face that captivated him.

Fierce, pale-green eyes the color of stained glass peered back at him underneath long, dark red lashes. Devil wondered if she was wearing special contacts or if that was her natural eye color.

The hidden fire she still possessed in her steely gaze was a sharp contrast to other women gyrating on the poles. Each might look like pretty, live ornaments but they all wore dead fisheyes. Working here had sucked all the life, the soul out of their bodies, but the redhead had somehow held on to her soul.

None of the women who danced at the Pink Canary were truly free. Skull and his MC owned them one way or another. This place was a shit hole. An old warehouse on the highway converted into a glorified strip club. The outside looked as ugly as the inside. Dimmed lights and the distracting women hid the peeling paint on the walls and the mold in the ceiling well enough. Men who came to these sorts of places didn’t come here to admire the interior.

Devil wondered what kind of trap the redhead had managed to fall into. Perhaps she wasn’t the angel he thought her to be. Some of the dancers were addicts. He’d noticed some of the dancers sported needle marks that were poorly concealed by their revealing clothes. No surprise there. Skull and his men dealt in drugs. It wouldn’t be hard to get the women addicted, reliant on the MC for their supply.

Devil silently assessed her and didn’t see any. That didn’t mean she wasn’t addicted to one vice or another. Women in this line of work often sought escape from their current reality. Devil should know. His mother had danced in a dump just like this to pay the bills. Devil pushed those thoughts aside before the memories escaped from the steel box he kept locked up in his mind.

For a moment, Devil let himself wonder what it would be like to possess such a creature. He’d chased after pussy his entire life, satiated his urges with a quick hook-up only to leave the next morning. Commitment wasn’t in his dictionary.

Devil often told his road brothers he’d ride solo his entire life and yet, he allowed his mind to drive. He saw himself and his nameless queen, tucked behind him on his Harley, her slender arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The wind untangling the tie that bound all her glorious hair. The sound of her imagined laughter.

He imagined those pink lips wrapped around his dick. His cock inside her tight and wet pussy.

Fuck.

Devil didn’t understand what kind of siren song she cast on him, but he didn’t like it one bit. The club was his number-one priority. Business came before pleasure, brothers before hoes.

Pretty, isn’t she? Skull remarked, breaking off from their initial conversation. There’s something about her that the other girls don’t possess. I just can’t put my finger on it.

Devil returned his gaze to the President of the Skull Riders MC and silently cursed himself for lowering his guard. Did Skull see his moment of weakness? Would the bastard take advantage of it?

Devil gripped the beer bottle on the table hard and took a long swing. Two could play at this game. His brother sent him here, knowing Devil was the only one subtle enough, capable enough to work a deal with the Skull Riders. Devil’s other MC members thought violence solved everything. Devil needed to get his head back in the game.

New acquisition? he asked in a neutral voice.

Acquisition. He hated using that word, but it wasn’t like the woman would hear them. Loud music played from the speakers. Devil didn’t want Skull to know how important she was to him. Let Skull assume she was a toy he wanted to amuse himself with.

Destiny’s been dancing for us for three months, Skull answered smugly. She owes me a boatload of money.

Skull didn’t supply any further information, although Devil was dying to know more. Starting down this path, this line of questioning would end nowhere good. In and out. No side business. No distractions. That had been Devil’s game plan.

Skull slapped the ass of a passing waitress, making the woman squeal. She bit her lower lip and looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she scurried to the next table to take orders.

Skull and his men were assholes, but then again, who wasn’t? In their