Sylika H.

Death walks alongside me. But the reaper is no match for me. I'm trapped in a world full of monsters dressed as men, and those who aren't as they seem. They won't keep me forever. I no longer recognize the person I've become. And I'm fighting to find my way back to the beast who hunts me in the night. They call me a diamond. But they've only created an angel of death.

The Manipulator. I can manipulate the emotions of anyone who lets me. I will make you hurt, make you cry, make you laugh and sigh. But my words don't affect him. Especially not when I plead for him to leave. He's always there, watching and waiting. And I can never look away. Not when I want him to come closer. The Shadow. I didn't mean to fall in love. But now that I have, I can't stay away. I'm mesmerized by her smile, by her eyes, and the way she moves. I'll keep watching and waiting. Until I can make her mine. And once she is, I'll never let her go.

We're not free to give into this. She's 19, and I'm 38. And I'm her boyfriend's father. Unfortunately, they both just moved into my house.

One tragic night took the only good thing in my life from me and set me on a new path. A path that eventually led me here, to the Kings of Mayhem Motorcycle Club in Tennessee. They call me Doc because that is what I am, even if the law says I can’t be. I’m inked head to toe, ride a Harley, and wear a cut, but my love for medicine is the blood in my veins. I don’t need liquor, and I don’t need women. By choice, I haven't touched a woman in years. Guilt has shaped me into a lonely figure. Love is a fable, and touch makes me uncomfortable.

Life as I knew it ended with a bullet. It stole my brother from me and destroyed my family. From the ashes, I rose stronger and meaner, to exact the kind of revenge best served bloody and cold. I took out every single person I held responsible. Except one. He’s a phantom but his days are numbered. I won’t stop until I’m done. Then she shows up—the forbidden fruit, a light to my darkness. I should resist her because what I touch, I destroy. My feisty wildflower deserves more: more than this, more than me.