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Monster's Claim: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Apaches MC, #2
Monster's Claim: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Apaches MC, #2
Monster's Claim: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Apaches MC, #2
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Monster's Claim: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Apaches MC, #2

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Monster's Claim is book 2 of the Apaches MC trilogy. Book 3, Rebel's Claim, is available everywhere now!

I WON'T STOP UNTIL I GET WHAT'S MINE

I'm a monster who likes it rough.

She's soft, pure, and innocent.
But that didn't stop me from claiming her.
And once I had her in my arms, I'm never letting her go.


I was busy running a war for my club, the Apaches MC.
She thought we left her friend bloodied and bruised.
I'd never thought I'd ever be challenged by someone like her.

So innocent.
So pure.
So unaware of the danger she's in when she stepped into my world.

She doesn't know it yet.
But I'm everything she didn't know she wanted.
Everything she never realized she craves .

She chose to put herself in the devil's cage.
And now the devil is laying his claim.

I'm going to break her walls.
I'm going to take what I want.
And I won't stop until she's mine.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 29, 2018
ISBN9781386749707
Monster's Claim: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Apaches MC, #2

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    Monster's Claim - Claire St. Rose

    MONSTER’S CLAIM: Apaches MC (Book 2)

    By Claire St. Rose

    I WON’T STOP UNTIL I GET WHAT’S MINE

    I’M A MONSTER WHO LIKES it rough.

    She’s soft, pure, and innocent.

    But that didn’t stop me from claiming her.

    And once I had her in my arms, I’m never letting her go.

    I was busy running a war for my club, the Apaches MC.

    She thought we left her friend bloodied and bruised.

    I’d never thought I’d ever be challenged by someone like her.

    So innocent.

    So pure.

    So unaware of the danger she’s in when she stepped into my world.

    She doesn’t know it yet.

    But I’m everything she didn’t know she wanted.

    Everything she never realized she craves .

    She chose to put herself in the devil’s cage.

    And now the devil is laying his claim.

    I’m going to break her walls.

    I’m going to take what I want.

    And I won’t stop until she’s mine.

    Chapter 1: Dinner Parties

    When I manage to wake up, it’s pitch-black outside. Compared to the city lights I’m used to, there’s not even a streetlight to illuminate my room. My hands search for a light switch or a lamp along the side of the big brass bed, but I come up with nothing. I am forced to slide out of bed and towards where I think the bathroom door is. I manage to find the wall, and the bathroom springs into my view.

    My eyes take a second to adjust before I can find the main room’s lamp. Once turned on, I finally get a decent view of the bedroom I’m staying in. It’s massive, I’ll give Tank that. The stone floors are covered in blue painted flowers and yellow brush strokes while the rest of the room is in bright, burnt reds. It’s a mix of rustic and vintage that I love.

    To the corner is the large desk where we began our hot and heavy session, and next to it is an equally large chest of drawers. I spot my discarded dress in tatters near the bench. That’s not going to work for the rest of the trip. I walk to the bed, the same bed that Tank lifted me onto and placed me in hours ago, and tear off the cream-colored sheet. Wrapping it around my body, I promise myself that this is just going to have to do for now.

    I take a deep breath and pray that those groundskeepers are gone as I open the door to the courtyard. It’s the same kind of darkness from my bedroom earlier with the dark sky above covered in sprinkling stars and a yellowish crescent moon. Despite the area being empty, I hear music in the distance. It’s some old rock and roll song I haven’t heard in years. I spot the light coming through from the far corner of the terrace, and I quickly walk towards it.

    From the small crack, I spot Tank standing over an open fire. A black apron is tied around his waist and his hand is covered in a bright pink oven mitt. I push the door open even further and give a little cough. He spins towards me, a steaming pan in one hand and a spatula in another. What are you doing?! I cry out to him, laughing at the sight.

    What does it look like I’m doing? he asks, as he gestures to his ridiculous apron that is covered in frilly lace. I’m cooking you dinner.

    I walk towards him, hitching up the sheet around my ankles. Do you even know what you’re doing? No motorcycle guys in my world would dare to cook for themselves. That’s what greasy take out joints and their old ladies were for.

    You tell me. He hands me a spoonful of a red bubbling broth. I take a quick taste, expecting it to be far from appetizing, but the basil and tomato hit me instantly as I’m brought back to my grandmother’s old tomato soups. I take another spoonful, letting the warm liquid fill my mouth.

    That’s incredible, I finally say. How did you learn to do this?

    Go sit at the table, and I’ll explain. Dinner’s almost ready anyways. He turns back to his stove before adding, There’s a robe out by your door if you don’t want to eat naked...though I’d prefer if you did.

    He gives me a wink before I dash out to the courtyard back towards my room. In a pile sits a perfectly folded black, plush robe, along with a new pair of clean, black lace panties. They’re completely see through, but I’m grateful for anything to wear. I’m not the type of girl who loves being exposed like this.

    When I come back towards the kitchen, I spot the candlelit table with the white linen cloth. The entire area next to the pool sparkles and glimmers. And sitting down at one of the chairs is Tank, a relaxed smile washed over his steely face. He stands when he sees me and pulls out a chair. Before I can begin to ask him the million questions on my mind, he does the answering for me. My mother, before she passed, used to make me take her out on dates. My old man was never around, so she thought it was important to teach me how to be a gentleman—which includes cooking a lady dinner and setting a table.

    I place a napkin in my lap and instantly dive into the tomato and basil soup. We spend the rest of the meal chatting about his mother and his life pre-motorcycle club days. He joined the club at sixteen, just a kid, right after she died of a heart attack. He’s nostalgic as he talks about the men who brought him under his wing and taught him how to ride. And when the last Apache president died in a crash, he was surprised the men elected him.

    It’s a softer side of Tank that I would never know was there. He doesn’t talk as if the club is full of violent thugs or heartless criminals. These men are his boys, his brothers, his friends. And the experiences they share, good or bad, has somehow shaped him into the person I’m dining with tonight—for good or for bad.

    As I finish my last bite, I softly say, Your mother taught you well. I say in seriousness, I’ve never had a guy cook me dinner or even bring me somewhere as beautiful as this.

    I’ve never actually done it for another woman either, so I guess you’re my first.

    That’s surprising. I know Abe is always getting women who throw themselves at him. The Apache president doesn’t have the same problem? I’m probing him, I know. But it doesn’t hurt to know a bit more about the guy seemingly wining and dining me.

    No, I have that problem, if you want to call it that. But they’re not exactly the girls I want to show a good time to. It’s more of a one-and-done kind of deal.

    I put down my spoon and look him into the eye Is that what you plan on doing to me tonight, Tank?

    He, too, places down his silverware and takes a long drink from a large champagne glass. When he finishes, he catches my glare, his face transforming into something darker and more sinister. No, Sierra. When we’re done here, I plan on giving you the ride of your life, and this time, we’re both going to cum together.

    I suddenly feel completely full, as I struggle to finish the soup without my hand shaking and my legs trembling under me. He devours the rest of his bowl, places his napkin on the table, and stands up. He takes my hand, forcing me to stand as we head out towards the pool area where a bedside cabana has been set up.

    As I watch the water ripple and sway with the light breeze, he wraps

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