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Dark Riders 1
Falcon
Werewolves, Darlings, Ducatis, and a disreputable biker gang is the world Garrett is thrust into when he falls in lust with a stranger who steals his very breath. Garrett knows the man has a very unsavory reputation, yet he can't stop fantasizing about him. But Garrett discovers that Falcon is not what he seems. The man has a secret, and Garrett soon finds out what it means to belong to the president of the Dark Riders.
Falcon has no interest in humans until the owner of Andromeda—a tattoo shop on the Lower East Side—is targeted by an enemy, and he finds himself protecting a man who changes the rules of the game.
But Falcon's world is a scary place. There are things that feed on humans and make Garrett feel as if he has lost his sanity—things that shouldn’t even exist. They are known as Darlings, and they are coming after Garrett. Falcon has placed his mark on him, and Garrett is now the creatures' target.
Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 42,594 words
FALCON
Dark Riders 1
Lynn Hagen
EVERLASTING CLASSIC
MANLOVE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove
FALCON
Copyright © 2013 by Lynn HagenE-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-320-7
First E-book Publication: July 2013
Cover design by Emma Nicole
All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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FALCON
Dark Riders 1
LYNN HAGEN
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
“You done with your break?” Lonnie asked as he joined Garrett outside, his expression cheerful until he saw who Garrett was looking at. He knew Lonnie was watching him watch Falcon. He cringed inside, knowing his best friend had something to say. “I’ve warned you. It isn’t healthy for you to ogle him like that.”
“I’m just taking a break.” Garrett leaned his hip against the black railing, smoking a cigarette that he knew he shouldn’t have, as he watched the men across the street. He knew that if they caught him staring that it would probably get him jumped—he shuddered—or worse.
“You really do like living dangerously,” Lonnie said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s only going to bring you trouble, hon.”
His best friend was only saying that because those men, with their patched leather jackets and ambiguous looks, were the notorious Dark Riders—the roughest, meanest, baddest biker gang in the Lower East Side of Paradise City.
“I don’t like living dangerously,” he defended. “They’re just great eye candy when I’m out here.”
“Eye candy?” Lonnie repeated with incredulousness. “I wouldn’t exactly use the word candy when talking about them. I highly doubt there is anything sweet about those men. They are more liable to give you a root canal with a pair of pliers than melt in your mouth.”
Garrett wrinkled his nose at Lonnie’s graphic analogy. But the man was right. And yet, beyond all reason and sanity, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the one man who had fascinated him since the gang showed up in town six months ago.
The president, Falcon, was cocky, with long, satin-black hair that ran down his back and deadly looks—gorgeous, but deadly. The man’s tenebrous expression reminded Garrett of an ancient warrior—the kind that were clad in barely anything but looked powerful and strong. There was something about the president that drew Garrett’s attention every time he saw them pull up in front of the Dirty Hole, a bar that catered to motorcycle clubs.
“I’ve always wondered what happens in that bar,” Lonnie said offhandedly as he leaned on the opposite rail, crossing his booted ankles. “I wonder if they have wing night.”
Garrett’s brows furrowed as he stared at Lonnie. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? Not even the cops will go in there and you want to know…you’re insane.”
Lonnie’s sweet laugh was low as he patted Garrett on his back. “I may be warning you to stay away from that bunch, but that doesn’t mean you can’t live a little. You have to do things that make your heart pound, Rett. Things that make you feel alive.”
Lonnie was the only person who called him Rett. He liked it. The short man was a sweet guy and they had been friends since forever. Lonnie’s complexion was a café au lait coloring that made him look like he had a tan year-round, but what really drew attention was the color of his eyes. They were a very pale green, giving him an exotic look that most men and women went crazy over.
But Lonnie was a good guy. He may work in a tattoo shop, but he wasn’t hard-core like most of the people that hung around. He was sweet, but had one hell of a temper if provoked.
Lonnie also liked to dress…uniquely. He was currently wearing knee-high platform boots that Garrett knew were ordered from the women’s section online. Not that they looked girlie. Lonnie just complained that the men’s selection wasn’t as interesting. They had eight metal plate straps with chunky buckles that ran down each side of the boots, and a high, thick heel that made him three inches taller than his original five foot six.
He was also wearing something called Freak Pants. One leg was black and the other was black-and-white checkered. There was a zipper on each thigh. The pants even had a pocket on either side of Lonnie’s knees, right where the boots ended. His shirt was black and sleeveless, with pressure buttons and metal D rings that were attached to two lines of webbing.
That was one of the things he loved about his best friend. Lonnie was never afraid to be himself.
“I’ll give you ten bucks if you go over there and find out if they have wing night.” Garrett turned, pressing his ass into the rail, giving his friend a challenging look.
“Okay.”
“Whoa.” Garrett grabbed Lonnie right above his spiked wristlet. “I was just kidding. Are you nuts?”
Tossing his blond dreads over his shoulder, Lonnie smirked at him. “I was just trying to prove a point. It is nuts to go over there. So stop ogling those men.”
He knew he needed to give up his lustful dreams of belonging to Falcon. The man was the president of the Dark Riders. Falcon would cut Garrett’s balls from his body if the guy caught the longing looks he wasn’t trying too hard to hide and, honestly, didn’t want to hide.
Lonnie slid his arm into Garrett’s, pulling him back toward the door of Andromeda, the tattoo shop they co-owned together. “Let’s get inside before they spot you ogling them and decide you would look good over a spit.”
Reluctantly, Garrett allowed Lonnie to drag him back toward the door. Just as Garrett was about to turn, he noticed Falcon looking his way, watching him with those enigmatic sable eyes. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and he found it hard to breathe as he wondered what had happened to prompt the president’s attention toward him. Falcon stared at him for a hair’s breadth, and then he slid his mirrored sunglasses into place before he looked away and began to talk to the man sitting next to him.
“Oh hell,” Lonnie said as he yanked harder. “Get inside, Rett.”
Resisting the urge to glance across the street one last time, Garrett went back inside Andromeda. It wouldn’t do him any good to get caught staring at Falcon a second time. The Dark Riders were men without mercy and who wouldn’t hesitate to end his life—at least, that’s what the rumors said that were buzzing through the city about these men.
* * * *
Garrett’s evening flew by. Lonnie had ordered dinner and Garrett had just finished eating when his best friend called him up front. He pointed to a brunette chick who was standing there glancing through a flash book—a stereotypical book with basic tattoos for the customers to look at.
...
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