Balor (Balor's Saints MC 1)

Balor (Balor's Saints MC 1)
Harley Wylde
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Copyright ©2024 Harley Wylde

Balor

Adjusting my leather jacket, I stepped into the clubhouse, letting the door swing shut behind me. Casual attire suited my alter ego -- jeans, a plain T-shirt, and the jacket that was more than just a piece of clothing. It was a symbol.

The low hum of conversation filled the room, mingling with the scent of leather and beer. The clubhouse had an air of camaraderie, the kind that came from shared secrets and mutual respect. Balor’s Saints MC -- my club. My men. Even if they didn’t realize it yet.

I nodded to someone across the room, my gaze sweeping over the familiar faces. Collin lounged on the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. The crime drama playing out seemed a bit too close to home. I’d heard the whispers when he’d come to town. Seen the warrant myself. He’d seemed genuine when he’d said the crime had been justified. Still. I liked to make sure he wasn’t killing anyone while he was here.

I’d built this club gradually, but the idea had come to me about twenty years ago. Maybe slightly longer, or shorter. As long as I’d been alive, forget days blurring together. Entire years did. Collin had joined us about five years ago. I knew for a human that was a decent amount of time. For the rest of us, it was barely a blip on our radar. None of these men had known one another before I’d brought them into the club, and they hadn’t all moved to town even close to the same timeframe. But somehow, we worked well together, even though we all had a darker side, including the human. My club brothers weren’t saints -- despite our club name -- but we didn’t harm the innocent.

I took in the sharp angles of his face, the pale blue eyes that seemed to not miss a thing. I didn’t think anything in the room escaped his notice. Collin was always watchful. I’d wondered if it was because of the life he’d led running from the law, or if it was something else. Right now, he seemed at ease. His dark hair was short, the faintest hint of a five-o’clock shadow along his jaw. He didn’t bother to look my way as I crossed the room to take a seat beside him.

I watched Clay and Jackson play a game of darts. My gaze moved to the TV. I didn’t need to look at Collin for what I had planned. I doubted he’d even realize what I was doing. My magick slid along my skin, like the soft caress of a lover. I let it slither out, searching. When it brushed against Collin’s thoughts, I felt the familiar tingle in my fingertips. He didn’t even flinch. No indication he knew what I’d done. I’d gotten better at being subtle. No images of blood or fear. I did see a few images of him fucking one of the strippers down the road. I wouldn’t deny it made my dick hard. I’d never claimed to be a saint. Even my club brothers didn’t know how true that was.

“Show any good?” I nodded to the TV.

He snorted. “It’s crap. But it’s better than nothing.”

The low hum of the TV nearly drowned out the sound of the darts hitting the board. Someone had turned off the lights in the front of the building, and shadows crept along the walls in the great room.

Collin shifted on the couch. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

I offered a faint smile. “Had some business in town. Thought I’d stop by, have a drink with my club brothers.”

Clay pulled a dart free from the board a few feet away. I watched as the muscles in his back bunched under his shirt. He threw the dart, and I heard the thud as it hit the target.

“Not bad,” Jackson Mays said. He pulled his own darts free and stepped back.

Jackson’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, and I saw his eyes darken. Not with lust. No. The necromancer didn’t want to fuck me. He wanted to pull me apart and see what made me tick. I’d have to watch him. I’d never admit it, but I didn’t know everything he could do. I’d need to look into his kind a bit more, see how much of a threat he could be. Another thing I’d been putting off. It wasn’t like Jackson hadn’t been here for about a decade already. Then again, there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to dig up much, regardless of which contacts I used. He seemed like the type who knew how to keep his secrets buried.

His raven hair was neatly trimmed, his clothing immaculate. I’d noticed he preferred darker colors, and today was no different. The shirt and jeans he wore were black, even his boots.

“Think you can do better?” Clay asked.

“I can try.” Jackson’s tone remained calm and measured.

Clay threw his last dart and joined us, grabbing a beer from the fridge before he settled into a chair. “You’ve got to be cheating. There’s no way you’d consistently win against me, not when my reflexes are better.”

“Just lucky.” Jackson’s lips twitched.

Ben, who’d been sitting at the table, looked up from his phone. He seemed to see right through me. His dark hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly. A perpetual smirk played on his lips, and I could see the appeal he’d have for a lot of people. He had a roguish charm and oozed danger. His looks and confidence didn’t hurt either. I knew better than to assume he was harmless. I could see it in the way he carried himself. The others didn’t seem the least bit concerned about him.

I’d heard a little about him before he joined the club nearly twelve years ago. Not enough to satisfy my curiosity. He kept to himself a lot. I’d considered trying to read his thoughts but worried it might scare him off. I’d wait it out. If he was a threat, we’d figure it out sooner or later. I’d hoped it would be later. I liked him, and I knew the others did too.

He stood and made his way over to us. His movements were almost ethereal in their grace. There was something almost intimate about it, and it made me understand why so many people offered up their necks to him, or any other veins he wanted to sink his fangs into.

“This is what we’ve come to? Watching bad TV because we’re too lazy to find the remote?” he asked.

I chuckled. “It’s not so bad. Beats staring at a wall.” These men were my brothers, not by blood but by choice. And yet I lied to them every fucking day. If they ever found out… No, it wouldn’t do me any good to go down that road. Not until I had to. Sooner or later, my identity would come out. Nothing remained a secret forever.

Clay took a swig of his beer. “Heard some weird things going on in town. You hear anything?”

I shrugged. “I hear a lot of things. Some of them might even be true.”

Ben snorted. “You’d think people would have better things to do than gossip.”

“Humans have always gossiped,” I said. “It’s in their nature. But supernaturals are even worse.”

Collin leaned back, stretching his legs out. “So, what’s the word on the street, then?”

I let my gaze drift over him. “I hear there’s a human in town who likes to play house with a bunch of supernaturals. As in keeping them like pets.”

Jackson’s eyes darkened, and I wondered if he’d be seeking out that person and liberating the enslaved people. Our people. There weren’t a lot of humans in this town, not compared to the number of supernatural beings, but the ones we did have didn’t typically cause trouble. But this person was new and clearly didn’t know the rules yet.

“Know what else I heard recently?”