Royal Savage
Page 8

WE PULL UP BEHIND A bar called Savage & Ink, and Royal kills the engine, reaching behind him to help me off his bike. He’s rough, yet careful not to hurt me at the same time.
Smirking, he climbs off his bike and reaches over to take his helmet off my head. “Your first time on a bike?”
I nod my head and work on fixing my wild hair. “Yeah. You could tell?”
“From your death grip . . . yeah.” He lifts his eyebrows at Jax as he pulls up beside us, and parks.
I feel a bit uncomfortable standing here with two guys I don’t even know, but oddly more welcome than I felt at Colton’s party.
“Sorry about that,” I say with a sigh. “And I’m sorry about last–”
“Shit happens,” Royal says, cutting me off.
“Come on.” He reaches for my hand and starts pulling me behind him, while reaching into his pocket with his free hand. “I’ve got to check on these dicks, and since you hopped on my bike . . . I guess you’re my responsibility for the night.”
After a few seconds of digging, he pulls out a key and unlocks the door, guiding me inside and past what looks to be a tattoo parlor. “Is this your place?” I ask, while looking around at the hand drawn art on the walls. “It’s amazing and stunning. Such beautiful artwork.”
“Yeah,” he responds, but doesn’t offer anything else.
We walk down the hall a little further, until Jax pushes past us and opens the door to a bar. He turns back to me and eyes me up and down. “Stay close to Royal. If he gets called away, then stay by me. These assholes are ruthless and will try to fuck you if they see an opening.”
My heart speeds up from nerves as I’m guided into a room full of tatted up men playing pool, darts, and drinking beer.
They’re loud and rowdy, not giving a shit about what anyone else thinks and they all seem to look as if they feel at home here. Seeing the proud look on Royal’s face makes me smile. It’s crazy to see just how opposite he is from his brother. Amazing really.
Royal encloses his hand around mine again and pulls me through the room, keeping me close by his side. He steps behind the bar, keeping me with him. “What do you drink?”
I look over my shoulder at the guys shouting and whistling, calling out Royal’s name, but Royal grabs my chin, pulling my attention back to him. “What will it be, babe?”
“A beer please. A nice, big, cold beer.”
Royal sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as if I’ve just turned him on, and oddly . . . that turns me on.
“Sexy as hell and drinks beer. Well shit . . .” He shakes his head, while reaching for two beers and twisting the caps off. “Definitely not my brother’s type.”
I watch him, but don’t say anything as he hands me the beer. Holding the cold bottle to my lips, I tilt it back and take what must be the longest drink of my life. It tastes and feels so good right now.
“Yup . . . definitely too good for my brother.” Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Royal adjust the crotch of his faded jeans, before grabbing my hand and pulling me around the bar and to the back of the room, where two pool tables are set up.
He stops in front of the unoccupied one. “You into pool, Avalon? That’s a sexy as fuck name, by the way. Don’t let my dick brother say otherwise.” He pauses to take a swig of his beer. “You look like you could use a little game or two to loosen you up. I think I can help with that.”
I smile big against the top of the beer bottle, stopping mid-drink. “I’m not very good, so chances are it’s not going to be very fun for you.”
Royal yanks his jacket off and throws it over an empty chair, exposing his beautiful body art that I love so much. “I’m sure I can find a lot of ways to make things with you fun. Don’t worry about that, Darlin’.”
I jump away as some random arm flings around my shoulder, pulling me against a hard body. It smells good too . . .
It’s some guy in his mid-twenties with short, dark hair and amber eyes with both of his arms covered in a sleeve of tattoos. The sides of his head are shaved and covered in tattoos as well, the top of it longer. He’s definitely attractive. A little drunk, but attractive. “Who’s this beautiful girl?” He looks down at me and lifts a brow, cupping my chin. That’s when I notice his nose is pierced. “They call me, Blaine, babe, but you can call me anything as long as you’re screaming it on top of me. Hell . . . even below me is good. I work hard either way.”
Royal looks up from racking the balls and grips the edge of the table. “Seriously, Motherfucker. Don’t you have shit to do?”
Blaine releases my chin and I oddly find myself smiling. “Avalon,” I say, answering his previous question. I look around at all the people dressed in leather jackets. You can tell the majority of them came on bikes. “Are you part of a motorcycle club or something?” I ask hesitantly.
Royal pulls me away from Blaine and in front of him, handing me a cue stick. He helps me aim it at the cue ball and then leans in next to my ear. “Nah . . . it’s just a place where other uncivilized people like myself can come and feel at home; a place that Colton will never have the balls to step foot in.”
He backs away from me and I take my shot, breaking the balls. None of them go in, so I hand my stick to Royal. “And you do tattoos here too?”
“Yeah . . .” He takes his shot, followed by two more, sinking three striped balls in a row. “A lot of the bikers that come here get work done from me or Blaine. Jax helps run the bar, but can’t tattoo for shit.”
I notice how Royal watches me when it’s my turn. For some reason . . . having his eyes on me gives me a little bit of excitement. It’s not the fact that he’s watching me, but more of how he watches me that gets me. He’s so damn intense.
A few beers later, I’m having fun and laughing with Royal and a few of his friends. I sort of gave up on pool after the second game, when realizing that Royal is a damn pro. He even managed to hit the balls when he had his eyes on me. I can’t compete with that.
My phone buzzes in my pocket for the fifth time in the last hour, but I hit ignore and fall back into conversation with the guys.
There’s no way that Colton is over being a dick. He didn’t even bother to try calling me until at least two hours after I left, so I’m guessing his precious little party was over by that time.