Scorpions MC: Gods And Monsters Part 1

G.o.dS & MONSTERS.

Scorpio Stinger MC Series.

Jani Kay.

Reading Recommendation:.

BEFORE reading G.o.dS & MONSTERS (Book 3) it is recommended to first read the other books in the series as the story follows on directly from the previous books and you will have a much better understanding of the characters.

G.o.dS & MONSTERS is Book #3 in the Scorpio Stinger MC Series and follows directly from Unchain My Heart and A Biker Christmas..

Reading order:.

Ryder - Prequel #0.5.

Two Worlds Colliding #1 Unchain My Heart #2.

A Biker Christmas #2.5.

G.o.ds & Monsters #3.

Available as ebooks and paperbacks on all platforms.

The first 2 novels can also be found in "THE BEGINNING: A Duet" which is available as an ebook and as a Paperback too.

Coming next:.

Tormented Book #4 (Harrison & Eva's story).

Prologue.

I never looked in a mirror. I didn't need to. If I wanted to see what I looked like, I'd just look at my twin. Daemon and I were identical in every way-from the outside at least. But that's where it ended. We couldn't be more different in character.

Daemon was born five minutes after me. He hated that he'd come second. It irked him that I breathed life into my lungs before he did. And ever since he's been trying to steal everything I have. Everything I love. To own it first.

It started with toys. He'd s.n.a.t.c.h my newest away and usually break it before I'd even had the pleasure of playing with it. And then he'd refuse to share his with me. At first I'd beat him for destroying my property. But usually I'd give up the fight-it was futile because he'd go after the next thing with even more intent on demolishing it.

He stole my feed at the breast. Stole our mother's time and attention, until she was too exhausted to give any to me. That's when she started calling him Demon instead of Daemon. 'He's the devil incarnate', she'd say and wail that she could've sp.a.w.ned such evil from her body.

It only made matters worse. Daemon accused me of stealing our mother's love too. He never forgave me for the fact that she loved me more, in spite of his best efforts to steal her away.

This is my story. And my twin brother's. Because try as I might to deny it, he's the other half of me. Sometimes he knows my thoughts before I did. And he always used that power against me, taking from me what I desired before I could have it.

Until one day. The day I became president of the Scorpio Stinger MC. I threw him out like the garbage he was. Rotten filth.

He wouldn't be able to taunt me any longer.

Well, that was what I believed then.

How wrong was I?

Evil knows no barriers. It stops at nothing. It won't rest until it gets what it wants. And he wanted what was mine. MINE. He wanted my woman. My air. My reason for living.

I'll die before I let him take her from me.

This would be a battle to the end. Till the last man is left standing.

And only one of us was breathing.

Chapter 1 - Cobra.

The Early Years.

Stunned by the news, I blinked a few times as I processed the information. "You're letting me come to Mexico with you?"

The president of the Scorpio Stinger MC nodded. My old man smiled at me from across the large wooden table as he leaned back and though the disease must have riddled his body, making every movement painful, he laced his fingers together behind his head with barely a wince.

For the first time Daemon and I had been allowed to attend the last ten minutes of a club meeting. I'd thought it had something to do with his lung cancer getting progressively worse, I never dreamed it was to offer me a chance to ride with the brothers.

"That's why you told us to stay back while the boys went to get beer? You wanted to tell us that you're taking Cobra with you but not me?" Daemon sneered. He didn't even try to hide his anger.

The old man ignored my twin. "I've been watching you, Cobra. You can handle a motorcycle like any of the other boys. It's a long ride, but I think you can do it." Malone didn't give compliments easily; I'd earned it fairly by practicing my skills every day till I mastered the thunderous beast.

Excitement bubbled up inside me. This meant my father acknowledged that I was becoming a man. That I was good enough to ride with the rest of the gang.

"Why is he going but I can't come?" Daemon yelled, the scorn on his face a sight I'd become used to. He still threw temper tantrums like a two-year-old. I itched to punch the f.u.c.ker in the face. I stuck my fists into my jean pockets to stop myself from planting a right hook on his chin.

My old man sighed, weariness etched on his leathery skin. "Because he's the oldest. You'll come next time."

"Those five f.u.c.king minutes are going to count against me for the rest of my life. I should've killed you in the f.u.c.king womb when I could've," Daemon roared, making a strangling gesture with both his hands.

I looked away. Didn't stop him from sucking the life and joy out of everything.

"On second thoughts, glad I didn't. This way when you crash and burn on that journey, I'll be able to laugh on your f.u.c.king grave," Daemon sn.i.g.g.e.red.

I puffed up my chest. "You'd f.u.c.king love to see that happen wouldn't you? You're always trying to rob me somehow. But guess what, a.s.shole? You couldn't kill me if you f.u.c.king tried. I'm a survivor. You'd be smart to remember that, little brother."

My father coughed, his face screwed up in pain. "Cobra, you have a month to prepare for the ride. I want you to learn how to run this club, keep it afloat. " Another fit of coughs made it difficult for him to speak. He spat into a handkerchief, then wiped sweat from his brow. "Let Ox and Ripper show you the tricks and get you ready. Think you can handle it?"

"Sure can. I was born ready." I grinned. f.u.c.k Daemon. I was glad to get away from his constant compet.i.tiveness. I'd show my old man he could be proud of me-that I was ready to be groomed to take over his legacy.

My biggest rival wasn't another biker. It was my own brother. My f.u.c.king twin. Something I couldn't name ached inside me. I knew other twin siblings-they were close, working together as a unit. I yearned for that with mine, but every year that pa.s.sed tore us farther apart instead of bringing us closer.

My twin hated me. I tolerated him. No love was lost between us.

The old man pulled his shoulders back and knitted his brows as he stared down his other son. His fists balled by his sides. "Cobra has the business brains. And he's the next pres. So suck it up like a man, Daemon. Stop your whining-you worse than a b.i.t.c.h."

Malone wasn't an easy b.a.s.t.a.r.d to live with, but he was a fair man. He hated squabbles between us, his backhand often landing on a cheek when he'd had enough. But since we'd grown nearly as tall as our father, the slapping had decreased substantially. The squabbles hadn't.

"I'm f.u.c.king smarter than him. A better fighter. Better everything." Daemon's voice spewed bitterness. "You even love Ryder more than me-your own blood. Shame on you, old man."

Malone gritted on his teeth. Daemon was lucky to be sitting at the furthest end of the table.

Ryder walked in on the conversation. "You misusing my name again? Didn't you get a tooth knocked out recently because of it? Want another for the tooth fairy?" He grinned at Daemon as he flexed his fingers wide.

Every day since Razor and I'd rescued Ryder from juvie, he'd pushed his lean body through grueling workouts, swearing that n.o.body would ever place him in the same vulnerable position again. Ryder, even though younger than Daemon and I, was as fast as f.u.c.king lightning. He'd have us on our backs in a brawl before we even knew what the f.u.c.k had hit us.

"f.u.c.k off, pansy." Daemon sneered. "I bet you'd love a f.u.c.k up the a.s.s."

Because he knew he couldn't beat Ryder down with his fists, he always cut him with his tongue instead. My adopted brother's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he threw his head back and laughed. "You offering? Ain't no man born I'd leave standing alive if he tried to stick his d.i.c.k up my a.s.s. So back off, a.s.shole." Ryder turned to me. "Can't wait till I'm old enough to come along. Mexico sounds good."

My old man laughed. "You stick to Mexican take-outs a bit longer. Your turn will come soon enough."

Ryder grinned, pride evident on his face. "I can ride as good as any other motherf.u.c.ker. Razor and Hammer have been teaching me. They say I'm a natural."

Daemon pointed a finger at Ryder. "A natural disaster-that's what you are," he snickered. "You think everyone here loves you, don't ya? Well news flash, juvie boy, I hate your f.u.c.king guts. And if my old man takes you to Mexico before me, you're all going to be sorry as f.u.c.k. That I'm promising you all today." The glare filled with enough hatred to detonate a bomb that he pa.s.sed from one person to the other caused a chill to run through me, as if someone had just walked over my grave.

Although I was no f.u.c.king angel, I shuddered at the thought that it could just as easily have been me born that way-evil seeping from my pores, hatred from my breath, maliciousness my intent.

I prayed with every fiber in my being to be spared such a vile life. I needed someone to help keep me from turning to the dark side, because I knew somewhere deep inside me, it was lurking . . . bubbling under the surface . . . just as surely as it was ruling my twin's life. We shared the same DNA, for f.u.c.k's sake. If I gave in to it, I'd become just like him.

I'd rather die at my own hand than be like Daemon.

Mercy was all that separated us.

Mercy. And a very thin line called humanity.

Chapter 2 - Cobra.

One month later "f.u.c.k it's hot in this G.o.dforsaken place." My eyeb.a.l.l.s scorched in the sun and not even my sungla.s.ses could keep the glare out. Crows squawked lazily from a distance, their long drawn-out caws the only sound besides the whirring of a fan on the wide porch.

"This is no place for a pale-skinned man. I f.u.c.king curse every time I come to Mexico, swearing I ain't coming back. And here I am." My old man poured water from a bottle down the back of his neck in a vain attempt to cool down. Fanning himself with his wet shirt, he grimaced as sweat trickled from his forehead into his eyes, cursing as he wiped the sweat with the back of his hairy arm.

I chuckled under my breath. Earlier I'd done the same and the salty sweat from my damp skin had burned my eyes more. That was when I'd tied the bandana across my forehead, to catch the droplets of perspiration and prevent them from rolling into my eyes.

So far what I'd seen of Mexico was less than impressive. Old broken-down vehicles lined the dirt road to our destination, a graveyard of rusted metal stripped from all the parts that once made up cars and trucks.

My a.s.s still hurt from the hours on the motorcycle and my skin and lips felt like sandpaper from the lashing of the wind and the sun baking them. Cagey, I sat back in the squeaky chair on the porch of a farmhouse in the middle of the desert, and watched as tumbleweed rolled across the dirt in a warm breeze. A dog barked, then yelped before shutting up.

"Sure as h.e.l.l don't know why I was so d.a.m.n excited to come on this trip with you and the brothers. Don't think I'll ever be back. Once is enough." I smiled wryly. "Next time, bring Daemon-he's so f.u.c.king eager to make the ride and string along."

The sooner I got out of this f.u.c.king place, the better. Coming to Mexico wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I wasn't sure what I'd expected, but it wasn't this.

"You're sure about that? You want me to teach Daemon instead of you? Don't be so quick to decide." My old man leaned forward and gave me a pat on the back, his eyebrows lifted as he stared me in the eyes. "I need someone I can trust to run this operation, Son. And I don't trust Daemon like I trust you. I'm getting too old for this s.h.i.t . . . I don't wanna do long bike rides for much longer. I'm skin and bones since your mother died and my a.s.s gets lame on that f.u.c.king seat." He coughed into his fist. "And now with this f.u.c.king cancer, well . . ."

I didn't want to think about Malone's disease ripping him from my life. My eyes narrowed as I scrutinized his face. The wear and tear of a rough life had taken its toll on the man and I was shocked to admit he was right. He likely had a few more trips in him before it became too difficult. My heart beat furiously, hammering against my ribs. That was why he'd wanted me to come. He wanted to introduce me-the next Scorpio Stinger president-to the Mexicans so that he could retire from the long ride. It all made sense now.

I scrubbed a hand over my face as I processed it all. It was Dad's way of slowly pa.s.sing the control to me before he stepped down. I reached out and squeezed his shoulder, letting him know I understood what he meant.

He grinned at me, pride shining in his eyes as he leaned back in this chair, fanning himself with his cap. Wearing our leather cuts in this heat seemed ridiculous, yet not one of us would remove them. We stood together-a brotherhood of men. Family. Not of blood but of conviction.

Ox wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. Perspiration poured from his skin, yet he didn't complain. He leaned against the wall, kicking his boot against a rock that held the wooden door open.

We'd been waiting for what felt like forever in life-sucking heat, swatting insects from our faces and growing more restless by the minute. After about fifteen minutes a tall skinny man emerged from the house accompanied by two burly Mexicans. He lifted his chin at my father and the other boys, then held out his hand to introduce himself to me.

"Antonio," he growled, sizing me up by unashamedly letting his eyes rake over me. "Malone wasn't kidding. You are a big motherf.u.c.ker, 'ey?"

I shook his hand, my grip firm and dominant. Just the way I'd been taught. A man got his first impression of another's strength in the first few seconds of a handshake. Antonio had to know whom he was dealing with. I was young, but I was the next leader of the MC, and I had to make him understand from day one that he couldn't f.u.c.k with me.

Antonio withdrew his hand with a blank face, not giving me an inch of credit. Tough motherf.u.c.ker. He nodded toward the chair I'd been seated in as he sank down on the worn-out sofa across from my father. His henchmen stood, arms folded, one at the doorway to the house, the other at the gate leading onto the veranda, neither showing any expression on their surly faces.

A girl, around the age of ten, with midnight black hair stared at me with dark chocolate doe-like eyes. She inched closer to me, slowly moving away from her father until she stood beside me. At first she just stared, her gaze running up and down my arms, neck and face, before a small smile curved her lips upward.

My mouth twisted into a smile too-I couldn't help myself. She reached out, her fingers caressing lightly over the tattoo of a cobra on my left arm. She seemed fascinated by its hooded head and fangs, outlining it over and over with her fingertips.

I sat back and closed my eyes for a brief moment, both arms leaning heavily on the chair's armrests as I savored her cool and soothing touch feathering over my skin. My breathing slowed right down, calmness washing over as my eyelids grew heavy.

Our fathers sat opposite one another, talking business. I tried my d.a.m.nedest to listen, to concentrate on the conversation. After all, I was here to watch and learn-not to be distracted by the gentle touch of a child that lulled me into a near coma. Maybe it was because I'd never been touched like that before. Unaccustomed to soft and tender, my nerve endings lit up under her fingers as they travelled up my arm.

"Alessandra, leave the boy alone," her old man admonished, spitting out the tobacco he was chewing so that it landed only inches away from my feet.

Boy?

He called me boy. f.u.c.ker.