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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I stared at the women as she walked out of Elden’s room. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, hair mussed. She smiled shyly at me as she pulled down her skirt, walking down the hall. Her heels dangled from her hands.

She wasn’t familiar. Not a club girl. Someone who had obviously attended a party last night while I had a quiet dinner with Mom and Swiss, listening to my mother make plans for the trip they were taking to drop me off at Brown.

My hands fisted at my sides as she walked past me, her shy smile dying as it became clear I wasn’t going to smile back.

I wanted to. I tried to make it a habit to smile at every woman I made eye contact with. Society had brainwashed us into thinking we instinctively must perceive every woman as a threat, as competition … so that we wouldn’t see each other as allies. We wouldn’t work together to topple the systems created to oppress us.

It was my main goal to topple the patriarchy. And even in this moment, I knew that scowling at this woman was me projecting my own anger and insecurity. That anger was best directed at Elden, and even then, I wasn’t completely entitled to it. We weren’t a couple. He could fuck whoever he wanted.

Still, I scowled at the woman walking past me. Still, fury simmered within me, strong enough to pump my legs and stomp all the way toward the door she just closed.

I didn’t feel like myself as the door slammed open. As it bounced off the wall, puncturing the drywall as it did so. All of this happened outside of me, as if I were possessed. I supposed I was. Possessed with jealousy. With a fury, a hurt I couldn’t breathe around.

Elden was shrugging on his cut when I walked in. I glared at the Sons of Templar insignia, even though it symbolized my mother getting everything she wanted, being protected for life. Even though without it, I wouldn’t be there.

Which was probably why I hated it so much. Because without the Sons of Templar, I would never have known Elden existed, and I never would’ve felt a pain, an obsession like I did with him.

He turned and stared at me with a measured coldness that sank somewhere deep, pulled out parts of me.

“You need to leave,” he commented, staring straight into my eyes.

I looked away because I couldn’t handle that expression, devoid of anything. My gaze landed on the bed, mussed and messy. My throat burned. They had just gotten out of it.

“No, I don’t,” I replied, my voice uneven and too wild for my liking. But I couldn’t control it. Not as I looked back at Elden. “This is obviously some kind of warped, fucked-up, alpha male move… You are trying to push me away because you think it’s what’s best for me. Because you don’t want to admit what’s between us.”

“There’s nothing between us,” he said flatly.

I flinched.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” I replied in a small voice.

His expression didn’t waver, but he flexed his fist at his side. I held on to that small reaction as proof of what I was saying.

“I know you’re a sheltered little girl who wanted to take a walk on the wild side,” he commented, voice cold. “Who wanted a rebellion, a distraction.”

Again, I flinched, but I jutted my chin upward in defiance.

“You’re what I want,” I argued, stepping forward.

Elden’s jaw turned hard, and he held out his hand, pushing me backward. Not roughly. Not using an ounce of the real force I knew he could exert.

But the motion cracked something inside me.

“You don’t know what you want,” he spat, voice devoid of emotion. “You’re just a kid.”

I didn’t flinch that time, which I was proud of. I was also proud I continued to stay upright as pain splintered everything, including my last remnants of hope.

“You don’t mean that,” I said defiantly, not ready to back down yet.

“Yes, I fuckin’ do,” he shot back. “You’re a kid I’m forced to be polite to. You’re a hot piece, and I was givin’ way to my baser instincts. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. You don’t mean shit to me.”

My stomach heaved, and I tasted bile. But I was still standing.

“Don’t embarrass yourself any further,” he added, lighting up a cigarette and blowing the smoke in my face. I winced at the bitter and acrid smell. “Fuck off back to college, find yourself some fuckin’ boy who will be impressed by you.”

Then without a second glance, he pushed past me and left me standing in his room, with the damaged drywall and my shattered heart.

“Sweetie, you left without even saying goodbye.”

I clenched my teeth against the hurt in my mother’s voice. I punished myself for that. For taking that goodbye away from her.



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