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Discover More Joanna Wylde



Shade’s Lady

A Reapers MC Novella

By Joanna Wylde



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New York Times bestselling author Joanna Wylde returns to the world of the Reapers Motorcycle Club…



Looking back, none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t dropped my phone in the toilet. I mean, I could’ve walked away from him if I’d had it with me.

Or maybe not.

Maybe it was all over the first time he saw me, and he would’ve found another way. Probably—if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Shade always gets what he wants, and apparently he wanted me.

Right from the first.





“Hi,” I said, smiling uncertainly. “I’m—”

“Mandy,” Shade said, eyes sweeping down my figure. I got the sense that he saw everything in that glance, from the red bra just peeking out of the top of my tank top to the fact that my ex-husband had gotten me arrested last year. “I know who you are. We met at the barbecue, remember?”

Oh, I remembered all right. He’d caught me by a belt loop on my jeans, pulling me just close enough for our bodies to brush against each other. Then he’d whispered I’d be welcome on the back of his bike any time.

Somehow, I’d managed to squeak out that I had a boyfriend.

Shade had laughed, running one finger under my chin, tilting my head up toward his. “That’s your problem, baby. You don’t need a boy—you need a man. Call me when you’re ready.”

Just the memory was enough to turn my face neon red. Thankfully, Bone was the kind of boss who believed a dimly-lit bar is a good bar, so hopefully it wasn’t too obvious to the badass standing in front of me.

“Great to see you again,” I told him, and I’m proud to say my voice didn’t squeak this time. “I’ll be your waitress tonight. Bone is pouring drinks right now.”

“Thanks, babe,” Shade said. “Lead the way.”

I started toward the back of the room, feeling the weight of his eyes the entire time. Well, either that or I was hallucinating, which was also a realistic possibility. The man was too potent for his own good—like catnip for women. Too many pheromones or some such. It really wasn’t my fault that he’d drugged me with his sexiness. Fortunately, I was smart and knew better.

(Fingers crossed.)

We reached the back room, and I fumbled with the keys to unlock the door. It wasn’t part of the bar proper, although there were tables and chairs back here. Bone used it for large groups and occasionally storage. For some reason I couldn’t get the key into the little hole, and the fact that Shade stood right behind me—radiating heat and pure fuckability, the bastard—wasn’t helping. Then his hand reached around mine, grasping the key and sliding it into the door with a slow, sure motion.

You know, that’s probably how he’d—

Shut up! I screeched mentally at my idiotic girl parts. You have a boyfriend and this guy is a murderer. Or something. Definitely something. NO quintuplets for you.

The door swung open. Apparently Bone had known they were coming, because the smaller tables had been shoved together to make one long surface, and the boxes that’d been in here yesterday were gone.

Shade caught my hips in his hands, gently pushing me to the side as his biker brothers filed in past him. I waited for him to let go but he didn’t. He decided to run his thumbs up and under the side of my tank instead. I shivered.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” I said, hoping Bone knew what they wanted because my brain had stopped working. The last thing I needed was a bunch of Reapers pissed off at me for fucking up their order. Shade didn’t drop his hands, just loosened his grip and lowered his head, taking in my scent.

My nipples went tight and he gave a low chuckle. Then he dropped his hands, brushing past me without a second glance.

“Sounds good, babe,” he said, stepping into the room. “Shut the door behind you.”