The Biker Alpha's Contract Mate: The Hidden Heiress

Author: Kattie Eaton

Chapter 1

Word Count: 843 | Released on: Today at 15:05

hne

-stop

nim cuff, eating bleached white spots into the fabric. My skin prickled with a sharp, fiery sting. It was diluted silver water. Silver is the only

neering as she lowered the brass sprayer. Behind me, the cross-country bus

masked my true scent-pine needles and snow-leaving me smelling like nothing at all. To every nose in this

brother Boone Gilliam, the founder of the Iron Claw MC. I had to hide my identity, wear a trial Property Patch-a leather tag stitched over the heart that marks a woman as claimed by the club's leader-and audit the club's bleeding Club Fund befo

t was Debbie Mcfarland, an Old Lady-the recognized wife of a deceased senior officer. Beside her l

e they cross our threshold." Debbie blew a stream of acrid

." I lowered my arm, holding up the stamped leath

wolf blood thinks she can wear the Prez's patch? Wait until Church-the full-moon cou

s curving into a nasty smile. "The servants' quarters downstairs are full. T

in a sharp breath and quickly

hed cedar and hot iron. Every territorial wolf marks his den with his scent, and only a purebred Alpha has the physical strength and Dominion to ride at t

n the wall. Exhausted from the ride, I sat on the edge of the leather bench in t

d into the courtyard below, followed by raw,

m. Darrell Sexton-road name Havoc-stumbled inside, his broad shoulders blocking the hall light. His black v

owled, lunging str

calloused fingers grazed my collar, his nostrils flared. He

massive frame collapsed forward, pinning me between the bench and the mattress. Iron

breaths. My heart skipped a beat; his furnace-like heat felt identical to the dying boy I had dragged out

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

The Biker Alpha's Contract Mate: The Hidden Heiress

Kattie Eaton Werewolf

“I was forced into a ninety-day probationary contract as the Old Lady of Darrell Sexton, the Alpha Prez of the Iron Claw MC. Hiding my rare White Wolf bloodline under a dead, human-like scent, the entire pack treated me like worthless country trash. His jealous club girls hated me, and one night, they finally made their move. They tricked me into a condemned, remote warehouse in the freight yard and padlocked the heavy iron doors from the outside. When the lights suddenly died, plunging me into pitch-blackness, the trauma of being locked in a blood-soaked underground pit ten years ago violently triggered. Suffocating, trembling, and bleeding from a bad fall in the dark, I pulled out my phone. With exactly one percent battery left, I texted an "SOS" to the only person on this territory strong enough to tear down those iron doors-Darrell. But half a mile away in the roaring Clubhouse, Darrell glanced at the message from my unsaved number. Assuming it was just another desperate club girl playing games for his attention, he let out a cold sneer. "Looks like another desperate club girl playing stupid games." He locked the screen and flipped his phone face-down on the bar without a second thought. As my screen went permanently black and I lay gasping for air on the freezing, oil-slicked concrete floor, the agonizing truth crushed my chest. He didn't care, and he wasn't coming. Right before the darkness swallowed my consciousness completely, the last shred of my patience died. Darrell Sexton, I will never forgive you for this. When I get out of here, I'm tearing up this contract, and this arrogant pack will learn exactly what kind of monster they just woke up.”