Reaper: Avenging Angels MC Book 4 by Nia Farrell

Author:Nia Farrell [Farrell, Nia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-01-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Saturday, June 7, 2014

“Let’s go, babygirl.”

Papa Bear snapped the leash onto Mare’s collar and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

The way he looked at her, she almost believed it.

Therapy had helped. It had taken months of counseling sessions to regain some semblance of normalcy after being rescued.

Not that life would ever be normal again. She was forever tainted by Reaper’s touch. The feel of it had faded, but no amount of love, no amount of domestic discipline, no amount of penance could fully erase it. Part of her would always remember.

Try as she might to forget.

She fell into step behind her husband, slipping into the role of submissive with comfortable familiarity while bracing herself for what she might see once they reached the lounge. With four grown, very sexually active sons, she’d be keeping her eyes down and hope that they were playing on the far side of the room from their family’s regular spot.

The McLanahan chairs were grouped together, with a good view of the St. Andrew’s cross. Sam, Dylan, and Richie were sitting alone. Mad Dog had company. A girl wearing high heels and red underwear knelt between his legs, her dark-head bobbing in his lap.

Mare didn’t recognize her as one of the club sluts. She was someone new. It happened occasionally with her other boys but she couldn’t remember the last time Luke had brought someone home. Playing with the sweetbutts let Mad Dog avoid entanglements.

He had the grace to look sheepish at being caught. Mare looked away and wondered at Richie’s dour expression. Usually, he was the most upbeat of her boys.

Mad Dog tucked himself back in his jeans and zipped them up. “Mom. Dad. This is Isabella. Give her a minute.”

Mad Dog took the girl’s chin and examined her face. Wetting his thumb, he cleaned the corner of her mouth. “Beautiful,” he rumbled, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

He took her arms and pulled her to stand with him.

Jesus Christ.

Mare hoped the girl was legal age. She looked like she was barely out of high school. Her cheeks were as red as her underwear.

“Isabella. These are my parents, Patrick and Maureen McLanahan. They’ll want you to call them Papa Bear and Mama Mare.”

Isabella took a deep breath and braved a look. At a glance, she took in Papa Bear, who was an impressive man at any age. Standing six feet tall with silver taking over his dark hair, he had tattooed sleeves, a pierced left ear, and gold-flecked green eyes that missed nothing.

Mare wore a leather corset paired with a short denim skirt. Her legs and her feet were bare. With her long red hair in a ponytail, there was nothing to hide the black leather collar around her neck. A leash was attached to the O-ring in front.

Papa Bear held the end of it.

Isabella’s eyes grew wide at the sight of them.

“And this,” Luke said, “is my new sub. Isabella Castellari.”

Mare’s stomach clenched. Memories that she’d fought to suppress resurfaced, forced into her awareness with the sound of a single name.

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