Wilting Violets (Sons of Templar MC – New Mexico #2) Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, MC Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC - New Mexico Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
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Freya was married to possibly the scariest man I’d seen in real life. Yet she made that man melt. She had killer style. A really famous YouTube channel.

They all treated me like I was their friend, not their friend’s daughter. It was a wonderful night.

Or would’ve been if Elden’s voice wasn’t ringing in my ears.

His story haunted me. He carried so much guilt. Blame. Not just for the man he murdered but for his parents. He truly thought he was the reason his parents were dead. His whole life had changed because of the one moment he lost control.

And he freely told me that I made him lose control. Yet another reason for him to fight this thing between us. Yet another thing to fight against.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I glanced to my side. Macy has settled herself on a bar stool beside me. I hadn’t had a moment to myself the whole night. Not with my mom, my baby brother, Colby, Lucas, Javier—who still hadn’t got the memo I wasn’t going to sleep with him—and all of the Sons of Templar Old Ladies keeping me company. But the night was slowing down.

Swiss had already taken Declan home, giving my mom time to enjoy herself and spend time with me. Luckily, my mother was enjoying herself a lot with Freya and Caroline, talking about babies and sex with their biker husbands. I loved that my mother was having great sex. Being taken care of in every way possible while also able to grow into whatever, whoever she wanted. So it wasn’t hearing my mother talking about having sex that had me slipping away to drink at the bar alone.

It was because these women had a kinship, they belonged to the club in a way I longed to but never could. I couldn’t talk about being loved by my own biker because no one knew. No one expected that from me. I was a visitor here, destined for a different kind of life. In my mother’s eyes, at least.

So I was drinking alone, thinking of everything Elden had told me, looking for a way out of the web of lies I’d created.

Then Macy sat beside me. I glanced over to her, forcing a grin. “My thoughts aren’t worth a penny,” I joked.

She did not grin back at me, which was unusual for her. Macy was a naturally happy, light, bubbly person. A little insane, but in the best way. She dressed like a bohemian biker queen. She loved Lord of the Rings. Adored her children. Her husband. She had welcomed me into the family without hesitation. She was one of my mother’s best friends.

I’d never felt like a kid with her. With any of them actually. They all treated me like a woman. Like I was their friend too.

But Macy was ogling me in a way that made our age difference stark and melted away the layers of our friendship.

“I’d say your thoughts are priceless,” she refuted, sipping her drink. “And I bet they center around a man with a thousand-yard stare who is noticeably absent tonight.”

My heart hammered at her words. Her tone.

I didn’t answer. What did I say to that? I could deny it, but that would be a flat out lie. I’d been careful with my omissions. I left out details, to be sure. Important details. But I never lied to the faces of my family. It was my warped code of ethics. How I lived with myself.

Macy glanced back to where my mother was sitting at the long table set up in the middle of the restaurant.

Conversation and laughter mingled with the soft rock coming out of the speakers.

“No one else has noticed,” Macy continued, eyes drifting back to me. “Yet.”

I clutched my drink tightly in my hand.

“I’m not judging you.” Macy ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Either of you. Sometimes we don’t have control over these things.”

I took a long sip of my drink, still unable to figure out what to say. I’d imagined a scenario like this dozens of times. Usually it was with my mother, and I was the one doing most of the talking.

“Be careful,” Macy eyed me with both concern and warmth. “I know you’re new to all of this,” she nodded her head to the table. “I also know I already consider you family.” She squeezed my hand. “Though you’re new to this, you’re very smart. Therefore, you understand the dynamics of our special little family.”

I nodded once, my mouth dry.

“And you know your stepfather loves your mother so much that he’d jump in front of a train for her without hesitation,” Macy continued.

Another nod from me.

“He’d do the same for you. And however warped it is, however archaic, he considers you his to protect. When he finds out, calmer heads will not prevail.”



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