Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) by Em Petrova Page B

risk worth their while.
    Delta did her chores and since Houlihan was on the run, she didn’t have to kneel at his feet half the day. And Micky was in bed with a migraine.
    With no one ordering her around—or slapping her around—Delta went back to bed for a few hours, locked her door, and slept hard. Dreams of Ever and Yo Momma jokes flitted through her mind, but she awakened with Drake in her mind and her pulse pounding.
    Breathing heavily, she stared at the ceiling. Useless longing.
    But her body was alive. Tingling with want, her pussy slick. She could slide her hand into her panties and ease her torment, but what good would it do? For a few minutes she’d float in a world where people didn’t hurt her, but crashing back to reality hurt way worse.
    Sighing, she got out of bed and padded around her room, tidying it. Everything she owned was because of the club. The guys liked her to look hot, so Micky bought her the right clothes. She had nice furniture and even a guitar. But only because she could entertain the brothers.
    Her entire life, she’d been primed by her parents to be a certain type of girl. One who appealed to all men. She didn’t think for a minute if Houlihan’s knuckle rings didn’t scare the shit out of the others, she would have been used harder than she already was. Her parents liked to keep her afraid that one day Houlihan would be gone and they wouldn’t protect her. They kept their guys happy first, even if it meant Delta’s soul.
    She picked up the acoustic and sank to the mattress with it cradled in her arms. It fitted perfectly to her. The only thing in the world she’d want if she were to ever escape.
    Or the Sons come back for me.
    She finger-picked a tune she’d heard on the jukebox at the Hell’s Sons MC, but she didn’t know the words. So she added her own.
    She sang about a tingle of heat, green eyes, and pain released. Her voice gained in strength until her tones filled the room. When a fist struck the door, she choked to a stop, her fingers trembling on the strings.
    “What is it?”
    “Get your ass out here and sing if you’re gonna sing.”
    Delta swallowed. Apparently Micky was feeling well enough to harass her.
    “I need a couple minutes to freshen up.”
    “Yeah, do that.”
    Delta listened to her footsteps retreat, a sick feeling replacing the freedom she’d known a few moments ago. If only—
    No, there was no use in pretending shit would ever change in this club.
    She set aside her guitar and pulled a slinky dress from her closet. She stripped off the sweaty top and shorts she’d been sleeping in and sprayed herself with body spray with notes of amber.
    Guys loved her body, and without Lucky’s club rule, she’d be raped several times a day. As it was, she’d given herself too often and never for her own pleasure.
    She ran her hands over her waist and hips. Chinese cherry blossoms slinked down the contour of her torso and across her pelvis. What would Drake think of her tattoo?
    She spun away from the mirror and yanked a dress overhead. Black and fitted to her every inch, the dress made her feel glamorous. A sort of armor.
    Only a few guys were left in the club—the younger ones and prospects left behind to guard the women. If ever there was a time for the Hell’s Sons to kidnap her again, it was now.
    She avoided their gazes as she took a seat on a stool with her guitar across her knees. The tightening of her lips that passed as her smile drew a little applause. She began to play one of the oldies the guys preferred. When she added her voice, some old ladies and sweet butts drifted in.
    Launching from the last note into the next song, she sank into a familiar headspace. While she was performing, no one dared to touch her or call her Girl. She was a real person with value.
    She sang until she was hoarse. When Micky declared that was enough, Delta stood up. She’d hardly turned around when she found a prospect pressed against her, rubbing his erection on her