Warlord (Anathema Book 1) by Lana Grayson Page B

me, sticky.
    “This is exactly
what I mean,” I said. “I want to go home. I want to leave this place. I want to
be rid of this godforsaken MC.”
    Thorne laughed. “Why? 
Anathema has been good to you.”
    “Like hell.”
    “You’re still
breathing. That’s a perk of this godforsaken club.”
    “And the only
reason I might be in danger is because of your feud with The Coup.”
    “Danger exists
everywhere.” Thorne’s amusement preached a secret he hadn’t yet revealed. “Consider
us...firefighters. We don’t blame the fire. We just make it our job to put it
out.”
    “This is not
like firefighting, and you know it.”
    “Enlighten me.”
    “This club ruins
the life of everyone it touches. My mother is dead because of the runs you organized,
Keep is following in her footsteps, and Brew’s been in jail three times
now. I didn’t even meet him until I was four years old.”
    Thorne nodded. “And
your father?”
    I swallowed
before the bile rose into my throat. “Jail too.”
    “Don’t blame
your family’s troubles on Anathema.”
    “What family?” I
asked. “The club took my family.”
    “You have two
brothers who love you enough to see you protected.”
    “Is that what
this is?  A demonstration of their love?”
    “I haven’t smacked
that smart mouth of yours yet. Consider that a demonstration of their respect.”
Thorne’s jaw tensed as I adopted the silence he so desired. “Anathema hasn’t
stolen your brothers. The drugs did though.”
    I looked away.
    “Keep’s in
trouble.”
    I shrugged. “I
guess.”
    “He was clean
before.”
    “Probably
because he couldn’t afford to kill himself.”
    “And he can
afford it now?”
    “If Anathema’s
dealing, he’s sampling the merchandise.”
    “We aren’t
dealing. Or supplying,” Thorne said. “And his preferred brand isn’t cheap.”
    “Whatever he’s
doing, he’s not...as bad as he was a few years ago. If I wanted a guitar when I
was fifteen, he’d never have parted with the money.”
    “But he has
enough to spend now?”
    My sigh tore
through my chest like I expelled razor blades. “Look. I gave the money back,
okay?  Ask Keep what brand he wants to waste it on. I won’t take blood
money and I won’t watch my brother kill himself.”
    “What’s Brew
think?”
    “He told me to
keep the money and guitar.”
    Thorne’s laugh
was unexpected. “You and this fucking music.”
    I matched his
cold smirk. “You and this fucking club.”
    “Careful.”
    I crossed my
arms. “Why am I even here?  My brothers could have watched over me. What do you
want with me?”
    “What if I said
I wanted the company?”
    “I’d find that
hard to believe.”
    “Why?”
    “You looked cozy
enough with that blonde. Doesn’t look like she’d let you get lonely.”
    “Lyn?” Thorne
winked. “She’s not the cuddling type. She owns Sorceress. You know it?”
    “My brothers
have mentioned it.”
    Thorne watched
me squirm. “You wanna go?”
    Now I blushed. “No
thanks.”
    “You sure?  You
could use a little fun.”
    “Not that kind
of fun.”
    He leaned back,
studying me once more. “Your dad always wanted you up on stage.”
    My heart thudded
to stone then shattered into dust in my chest. I hesitated, but the silence
rang louder than even the most untimely cymbal crash.
    “He...” I sucked
in a breath. “He thought I’d end up dancing.”
    I left it unsaid
that it was what he hoped for me. Thorne perked an eyebrow.
    “Dad didn’t like
me going into music.”
    “But you did
anyway.” His voice rumbled, the quiet before the gravel peel out and race. “Rebellious,
aren’t you?”
    “I’m good at
what I do. Nothing is going to stop me from succeeding.” I met his gaze,
enduring the threat of steel in his eyes. “I’m going to my gig on Friday.”
    He shook his
head. “I’m not your brothers, sweetheart. You want a favor, you better be
willing to offer me more than that fucking pout.”
    “I’m not
sleeping with