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The Biker King's Bride  Novel Cover

The Biker King's Bride

A dangerous deal. A ruthless husband. And a marriage that was never meant to be real... until he made it very, very real. Vivienne Carter is on the run-from her past, from her mistakes, and from the monster who once called himself her husband. With nowhere left to hide, she turns to the most dangerous man in the city and offers him a deal he can't refuse. Marry me. Protect me. Own me. Ronan Calloway doesn't do favors. As the brutal president of the Iron Vultures, his world is built on blood, power, and control. But when Vivienne walks into his life, desperate and reckless, he decides to keep her. His name was on her lips. His ring on her finger. His rules. His bride. The deal was supposed to be simple-no feelings, no complications. But Ronan doesn't play fair. And when his new wife starts defying him, pushing him, begging for trouble, he decides to teach her what it really means to belong to him. Hard. Deep. Without mercy. Now, Vivienne isn't just his wife. She's his obsession. And when he finds out she's carrying his baby, there's no turning back. She can fight. She can run. But she'll never be free. Because Ronan doesn't share. And he'll kill anyone who tries to take what's his.
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Chapter 7

Vivienne's POV

I stood in front of the vanity, still wrapped in nothing but a silly robe I hadn't bothered to tie properly. The dim golden lightning in Ronan's bedroom cast a soft glow on my bare thighs as I stared at my reflection, unmoving.

Makeup lay on top of the glossy surface, and with the dresses spread and strewn across the bed, one would think a tornado had just rocked these four walls, but I knew better. I'd tried to pick out something earlier, something that made a statement, something that matched tonight's vibes, but everything I picked was either screaming too much or not enough.

And fun fact, I didn't want to go. At all.

I didn't want to go to some party with leather clad men and hungry eyed women. I didn't want to be anywhere near a place where I was going to have to be all smiles and pretend like I belonged on Ronan's arms.

Because I didn't. I wasn't his queen. I was just a pawn, a part of a deal that I was seriously starting to regret and ...

The sound of the bedroom door swinging open was all it took to pull me back to the present. I didn't even need to turn to figure out who it was. The sound of boots pounding behind me was enough.

I kept my gaze on anything but the mirror. There was a good distance between us, and while that was slightly preferable, I wasn't ready to lock eyes with him yet. Not when I was in nothing but a thin sheet of clothes.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" his deep commanding voice cut through the silence. "I told you to be ready by seven."

"Because I'm not going." I inhaled sharply, keeping my voice firm. I clenched my hands into fists, just grabbing the hem of my robe.

Even in a million years, I wasn't sure I was ready to be paraded like some trophy, just so Ronan could prove a point.

A wave of silence settled between us, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. The sound of his boots inching closer reached my ears, and I inhaled sharply. My spine stiffened, but I refused to move. I felt him behind me before he even touched me, his heat licking at my skin.

"Not an option, princess." his voice was dark, dripping with amusement. His breath fanned the shell of my ear, and I fought the urge to shiver. " You're my wife now, and that means showing up by my side, no matter how much you pout about it."

"I didn't agree to be some kind of decoration for your little empire." I let out sharply, but all he did was chuckle. "I'm not going."

I had no idea what I was thinking. In all honesty, I didn't even think it through. It was hard enough that Ronan's presence was suffocating, having him behind me and dangerously close too, wasn't something I was sure I could endure.

I turned, wiggling at the right angle and resting against the vanity like it could hold me up for long. In my attempt to escape him, I'd unintentionally placed myself in his line of vision. He must have read my mind, because a sly smirk made its way to his lips immediately.

Shit.

Ronan's gaze raked down the length of my robe, his eyes lingering on the undone fabric and bare skin. His lips quirked in a way I found dangerous but sexy. "And why's that, wife?"

"Because I'm not your trophy." I straightened. "I don't owe anyone who's related to you, a performance tonight."

"This marriage was never just about you and me." He took a slow step forward, before leaning in even closer. He looked like a predator cornering prey, and I hated that I knew which category I fell under. "It's about power. Territory, perception. You walking in on my arm sends a message tonight."

"I don't care about your damned message." I snapped. "Im not going to parade around like some prize."

I moved to step past him, but he was faster. In a matter of seconds, his palm slapped against the wall behind my head, caging me in place.

"You're not going?" his voice dropped to a whisper, but it didn't make the edges any less blunt. His breath kissed my cheek, so close I could almost taste it. "That's cute."

Ronan's gaze dipped, trailing lazily over my lips before flickering back to my eyes. Amusement and something dangerous dances behind his orbs, but I pushed them aside.

"Tell me." He murmured, tilting his head to the side. " Is it that you don't want to go, or you don't trust yourself around me?"

My breath caught in my throat, and my pulse scattered across my skin, but I managed to mask it all.

"You wish." I scoffed in his face. "You're delusional."

He said nothing in response. Instead, he just stared at me, his eyes drinking in every part of me. While he was enjoying every bit of the show, I refused to look at him. My skin was on fire and my insides were starting to turn to mush, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of finding out.

"Move." I blurted out, but not with the vigor I'd imagined.

"No." His response was sharp, and he leaned in closer.

"Tell you what," Ronan said, his mouth ghosting over my ear. " Let's play a game."

"What?" I blinked back in confusion. I wasn't sure which was more confusing, his suggestion or the things his scent was doing to me. He smelled accurately of smoke, whiskey and something fruity. It was a weird combination, so maybe that's why it threatened to override my senses.

"If you can stay still," he whispered. "and not react to what I do next, you can stay here."

"But if you react once," his fingers trailed lightly down the side of my neck, sending a violent shiver through me. "You're mine tonight. In every sense of the word."

"That's ridiculous." My lips parted. "That doesn't...."

"Is it?" His hands slipped into my robe, cutting me short. He brushed the bare skin of my waist so gently, I couldn't help but stutter. "Still want to play, sweetheart?"

"I'm not going anywhere." I clung to the vanity, my fingers clenching against its edges. Like that was going to change anything, I let out through gritted teeth. "I'm not going."

"You'll just have to prove it then."

His fingers trailed lower, slipping under the silk and skimming my thighs.

"Your heart's racing." He added, his voice pure sin and amusement dancing in his words. "You like this?"

"No, I don't." The lie tumbled past my lips faster than I could catch it.

Again, he dipped his head, his lips just barely grazing my collarbone. I jolted in response, a low moan bubbling at the back of my throat, and just like that, I'd lost.

"You flinched." He smiled, triumph shining in his eyes.

"That doesn't count..."

"Yes, it does, princess." He pulled away, just enough to take every inch of his body warmth with him. Without blinking, he grabbed a dress off the bed and it just happened to be the one I'd been avoiding.

It was blood red, and the perfect definition of sin.

"Put this on." He tossed the dress at me. "I'll be back in ten."

"I hate you." I glared at him.

"You'll hate me more when I show you what kind of party it is." His smile widened. "Ten minutes, or I'm dressing you myself."

And with that, he walked out, leaving the door wide open and my heart pounding like war drums in my chest.

I looked down at the dress in question

I was really going to the damn party, and deep down , a part of me already knew I wasn't coming back the same.

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