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    Slayer: Sons of Rebellion, #1
    Slayer: Sons of Rebellion, #1
    Slayer: Sons of Rebellion, #1
    Ebook82 pages53 minutes

    Slayer: Sons of Rebellion, #1

    By Elsa Day

    4.5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Flames burn, no matter how much they try to deny it.

    Nadia wants to be a normal everyday girl. She wants to party, she wants to be free, and she wants to fall in love. But there's one thing standing in her way; her dad is the president of the Midnight Stalkers Motorcycle Club. Nadia's ruthless biker dad won't let anyone touch his daughter.

    Hunter Flint is the rugged and rough sergeant at arms of a rival MC, the Sons of Rebellion. Hunter wears his battle scars on his skin, and he's closed himself off to love. He's come to Queeenstown on a deadly mission, one that could tear the Midnight Stalkers apart.

    When the two meet, it ignites passion between them. Can these star-crossed lovers ever be together … Or will their love story crash and burn?

    Slayer is the first installment of  the Sons of Rebellion serial, following the story of Nadia and Hunter.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTsuki no Usagi Press
    Release dateJul 31, 2014
    ISBN9781501468179
    Slayer: Sons of Rebellion, #1

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    • 1/5
      this book ended in the very beginning! how dumb is that..

    Book preview

    Slayer - Elsa Day

    by

    ONE

    TWO HOURS TO GO.

    The door creaked as I pushed it open into the fluorescent light of the bathroom. The hot smell of urine and stagnant water hit me, creeping into my nostrils. This clearly wasn't one of the cleaner rest stops.

    But that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that it was empty. I stopped at the door, listening for anyone else's presence before continuing. All I could hear was the droning buzz of the fluorescent lights flickering above me. That and some water dripping from a busted pipe to the ground. Not pretty, but not deadly either.

    So I relaxed. I stepped up to one of the urinals and unzipped my jeans. The smoke from my cigarette masked the stench a little.

    I let my mind wander. Just a few more hours and we would be in Queenstown. We just needed to get there without making a fuss. That was all.

    It was hard enough keeping Jase and Brent from pulling out their guns every two seconds. They were like overactive kids, excited to play with their toys. But it wasn't time for that yet.

    That would come later. For now we needed to lay low, then the element of surprise would be on our side.

    Behind me, the door squeaked. A single pair of footsteps came towards the urinals, strolling leisurely. I didn't look. The guy should've just been in and out. piss and leave.

    The footsteps stopped for a moment, and then took up residence right next to me.

    Strike number one. Who stands right next to a guy when the entire bathroom is empty? Someone looking for trouble.

    I could feel his eyes on me. I turned to meet his gaze, staring into his eyes with a warning in my look. He had one of those stupid, long, greasy faces. The kind that's just begging for a fist.

    A lot of tattoos, huh? he said.

    Strike two. I zipped up and walked to the sink behind us. This asshole was skating on thin ice.

    No shit, I said over the rushing water.

    I turned off the tap and wiped my hands on my jeans. All I had to do was open the door. I reached for the handle-

    What's up with that jacket? The ass asked. "Sons of Rebellion? What, are you in some little club? A little group? I'm in the-"

    Strike three. My knuckles collided with the sharp bones of his cheek. He staggered back, falling against the urinals.

    What the fuck? he yelled.

    The second punch landed square on his nose. My arm flew and the bone bent under the pressure. With a snap, it cracked and blood gushed out of his face. He threw his hands up to his face and the red smeared over his skin.

    I- I'm bleeding!

    Yeah, no shit, I said.

    I grabbed his head and pushed it into a urinal so that his cheek laid against one of the vibrant blue hockey pucks. He sputtered, trying to keep the murky water out of his mouth and nose.

    So, I said, what's this about the club you're in?

    "Me? Me? I'm not in any club! I'm just a regular guy-"

    I stopped his blabbering by banging his head against the porcelain. Then I took my cigarette out from between my lips and hovered the burning tip over his forehead.

    Nope. Wrong answer. Let's try that again, I said. You were bragging about being part of a club. Which one? This time a wrong answer gets a cigarette put out in your face.

    Windy Ridge! he yelled. Windy Ridge Motorcycle Club!

    Good. It wasn't the Midnight Stalkers. This was going to be easy then.

    I pressed the cigarette into his skin. It sizzled, the flesh giving off a horrible scent as it burned and blackened. He screamed.

    You see that feeling? Remember it, I said. "You'll get much worse than that if you ever say anything about meeting me. I'll hunt you down until you wish you'd never seen my face. Understood?"

    The asshole was too busy crying to answer, so I pressed harder into his face.

    "Understood?"

    Yes, yes! he yelled. "Just please stop!"

    Good, I said and dropped the cigarette.

    My fist rammed into his temple and he was knocked out cold. His body slumped over the urinal, looking like a punk passed out after a night clubbing. Not too suspicious.

    I stood up and went back to the sink. My hands were covered in blood. As the water ran over them, the basin filled with pink liquid. It stung as I rubbed in the soap.

    Shit!

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