Free The All Encompassing: Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 1) by May Ellis Daniels Page B

ball bounces off the side of the table and rolls across the floor. One of the biker’s lackeys hops after it, then hands it to him.  
    “He sunk a ball yet?” I ask.
    “Nope.”
    Another shot. Another miss. I can’t help but smile. “Bad boy’s got a hole in his outlaw resume.”
    Trish giggles as the waitress deposits her bourbon on the table. “What’s his name?” she asks the waitress, nodding at the biker.  
    “Ask him yourself, hun,” the waitress says, shrugging.
    “Not a bad idea,” Trish says. “Thanks.” Then she turns to me and says, “So. Pureblood Predators MC. Runs up and down the West Coast. Usual one-percenter action: drugs, prostitution, gaming. A few low-level busts over the years but nothing even approaching the inner circle. Rumors of cartel ties that conflict with rumors of a close Eastern Euro connection. A smallish organization as these things go. Tight-knit. Shadowy, even. Maybe forty members. Hometown for our local chapter: Renton, Washington.”
    “Renton?”
    Trish smiles. “Land of meth labs, chop shops, Rottweilers and wide open spaces. Although that’s not entirely fair. I hear Renton has one or two hardworking citizens.”  
    “The Wilds is his,” I say quietly.
    “What’s that?”
    “This bar. It’s his.”
    “Maybe.”
    Something’s niggling at me. A half-formed thought. About Connor—
    The biker sinks a close straight shot into a corner pocket. A shot a blind man could’ve sunk.
    “Nice one!” Trish says, pumping her fists.  
    The biker turns and smiles at her. He has a blue-black shadow of a beard that isn’t quite thick enough to hide his dimples. The dimples seem incongruous on a man who was about to stomp the life out of a born loser just ten minutes ago.  
    I glare at him, then at Trish.  
    “If you’re not going to ask him for a game I will,” Trish says once he turns back to the table. “He looks lonesome up there all by himself.”
    “Go for it,” I say as dismissively as possible.  
    “Ok then.” Trish makes to stand.
    I’m on my feet without realizing it. Damn. Bitch called my bluff.  
    Trish waves me toward the pool table with a mischievous smile.
    I clear my throat and grab a cue from the wall. The biker’s glance follows me across the room as I rack up at the pool table opposite him. I keep my eyes on the table, arranging the balls in order in the rack.  
    “Seems silly, two people playing solo,” he says in that rough but soft-spoken voice. It’s odd, the tone, almost as if he’s not used to speaking much.  
    “Is that an offer?”
    “Sure. Play me a game.”
    I nod at Trish. “You mind if my friend joins? She bores easily and I wouldn’t want to leave her alone in a place like this.”
    He ignores my barb and slowly chalks his cue. God, even his hands are sexy and strong looking. “Sure. I can do two. No problem at all.”
    Pig.
    I wave Trish over. She shakes her head no. I sigh in frustration and wave again. It’s another no, lips firmly pursed this time.  
    Damn. Now I feel like an idiot.
    Biker dude chuckles. “Looks like it’s you and me,” he says, gliding to my table with a smooth, nearly lupine grace. He’s a biker, but there’s something reserved in how he carries himself. Something almost regal. “You all right with that?”
    “If you tell me your name,” I say, trying to sound brave and nonchalant at the same time.
    “Aaron,” he says, offering his hand.  
    Aaron . Not what I expected. Not at all. “Just Aaron, huh? Not Aaron…Scythe?”
    Aaron smiles. Leaves his hand outstretched.  
    I take his hand in mine. His skin is warm, almost hot, and his palms are calloused and rough, not at all soft and feminine like Connor’s. He holds my hand for a second longer than might be considered appropriate and—damn him—I like how it feels, his large, powerful hand closed over mine, and when he releases me there’s a flash of wanting him to hold me.  
    All of me.  
    “Lily,” I say, trying to