Monster (Royal Bastards MC – Belfast Northern Ireland #1) Read Online Dani Rene

Categories Genre: Biker, Dark, MC, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Royal Bastards MC - Belfast Northern Ireland Series by Dani Rene

Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)

USA Today Bestselling Author, Dani René, brings you the first book in her chapter of the Royal Bastards MC World.

They call me a monster for a reason.
I left my morals behind long ago, and I forgot what empathy feels like. Emotions get you killed, and I’m tired of watchin’ people die. Not anymore, not under my rule.

When Father Donahue calls on the club for help, we step up. What I wasn’t countin’ on was her.

She is forbidden. Too young and too pure for me to consider touchin’. The warmth of her is far too temptin’ and I find myself breakin’ all my rules.

Only, the girl is hidin’ somethin’ and when I find out what it is, I will make her pay.
But not before I get a taste of her cherry blossom lips.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


Drive You Insane - Daniel Di Angelo

Dancer in the Dark - For My Pain

Shiver - Echos

Guest Room - Echos

Ride On - Christy Moore

Do You Remember - Jarryd James

Monster - Skillet

Like A Villain - Bad Omens

How to Save a Life - The Fray



10 years ago

I was brought up a religious Catholic boy. My ma made sure I went to church every Sunday and said my prayers every night. Even though I was convinced talking to a man I couldn’t see was stupid, she would slap me about the head and tell me to do it anyway. Her influence on my life is the reason I’m here today, alive and not lying beside my da six feet under. She needed me just as much as I needed her. At twenty-eight, I still live with her, wanting to show her that no matter what, I’ll be by her side.

I obeyed the rules she set out for me when I was growin’ up. Made sure I didn’t get myself into trouble, at least for a while. It wasn’t until I hit sixteen and got into life with the motorcycle club that it all went south. Which brings me to today. The whispers I’ll be takin’ over from Da have been nonstop over the past couple weeks, and I’m pretty sure Ma has been dreading this day since she had me.

The thing is, I tried. I truly did. I wanted to be the son my ma could be proud of, and even though I’ve done some stupid shite, I still know right from wrong. I watched Da fuck up too many times to count, and I vowed to never be like him.

You can’t stay innocent forever. Not when you live in Belfast. Northern Ireland has always been famous for the shite that goes down on the daily. It’s as if the world is watching, waiting for another storm to hit. Violence was a way of life, not something to be feared.

And when I was a youngen, I didn’t think about how much my life would change when I was old enough to be dragged into the darkness with my da. It wasn’t the usual worries that bothered me, it was the danger that arrived with coming of age. That’s what Da called it at the time. I knew I would need to step up and take over. There was no doubt in my mind I had a duty to the club. But I convinced myself it would be when I turned eighteen, and not before that.

My da was a leader.

He had men who followed him into the flames, and they all came out on the other side. Walking around like they owned the world, even though the country was burning around them. Unscathed by what life threw at them, ignorant to the people who needed their help. The problem was, they became overconfident.

When you don’t know loss, pain, or heartache, you think you are invincible.

They did.

My da convinced his men they would live forever. But that didn’t happen, and he left me and Ma on our own. The memory of the war he started is still fresh in my mind. Only two years have passed since he died, and I notice how Ma still seems as if she’s walkin’ around in a trance.

I lift my stare to her, hoping she’ll look at me, but she doesn’t. As I sip my coffee, I wonder when she’ll stop missin’ him, if ever. She may be gettin’ older, but she’s still the strong woman I’ve always known her to be. It’s Sunday; she’s dressed in her favourite outfit as she gets ready to go to church. I may not be joinin’ her, but she’ll pray for me. It’s what she tells me every week.

“I’ll pray for you,” her words come as she grabs her purse and glances my way. She still loves me, has hope for me, even though I may not believe in what she does. I don’t go to church or pray. I gave up on that a long time ago. But the way my ma looks at me is nothin’ short of a miracle—her expression filled with love, with affection she shouldn’t feel. But she does. One thing about her is she’s stubborn. Must be where I get it from.

“Aye.” I chuckle. “No need. You know I’m goin’ straight to hell,” I tell her. It’s somethin’ I believe with every fibre of my being. When I was thirteen, I remember standin’ and singing some feckin’ hymn that meant nothin’ to me. It was part of the service, but when I looked up, my gaze caught the priest’s, and he smirked. It was as if he knew I was tainted, and he made the sign of the cross.

Ma used to call me her wee monster. I was a nightmare growing up, and even now, as an adult, the name stuck. Which is why it’s my road name. I’ve come into my own, and I’m proud of it.