And yet here she is, her body fitting against mine like it was made to be there.
What the fuck have I done?
I should be disgusted with myself. She's vulnerable, running from the Vultures MC, desperate for safety. I took advantage of that, let my cock do the thinking instead of my brain. I claimed her virginity, for Christ's sake, something she can never get back.
But looking down at her sleeping face, I can't bring myself to regret it. Not when she came apart in my arms calling my real name—Marcus, not Blade. Not when she looked at me afterward like I'd given her something precious instead of taking it.
Not when I slept through the night without a single nightmare for the first time in years.
A sharp knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Kelly stirs but doesn't wake as I extract myself from her embrace. I pull on my jeans before opening the door just enough to see who's there.
Viper stands in the hallway. The youngest full member after Ace, he's earned his name through his quick, deadly strikes.
"Reaper's called church," he says, his eyes dropping to my bare chest before darting to the glimpse of blonde hair visible on my pillow. "Wants everyone there in twenty."
"I'll be there in five," I reply, moving to close the door.
Viper's hand stops it. A slow grin spreads across his face as understanding dawns. "Well, well. The old man finally found some peace, huh? About fucking time."
I scowl at him. "Fuck off, Viper."
His grin just widens. "Hey, no judgment. Just never thought I'd see the day."
"Five minutes," I repeat, more forcefully this time.
"Sure thing, brother." He steps back, still smirking. "Just don't be late. Reaper's in a mood."
I close the door in his face, but not before I catch him laughing silently. Prick. By noon, the entire club will know I brought a woman to my bed. The teasing will be merciless.
But when I turn back to Kelly, now sitting up in bed with the sheet clutched to her chest, I find I don't give a shit what the others think. Let them talk. She's worth it.
"Who was that?" she asks, voice husky with sleep.
"Viper. Another member." I move to my dresser, pulling out a fresh t-shirt and tossing it to her. "Reaper's called a meeting. We need to go."
She catches the shirt, watching as I dress. "Is something wrong?"
"No. Probably just wants to discuss next steps now that we have new information on Charles." I pull on a clean shirt, then sit on the edge of the bed to put on my boots. "How are you feeling?"
It's an awkward question, especially from me. I'm not known for checking on anyone's wellbeing. But she's different. Everything about this situation is different.
A slight blush colors her cheeks. "I'm okay. A little sore, but..." She trails off, the blush deepening. "Thank you. For last night. It was... perfect."
Perfect. No one has ever used that word to describe anything I've done. I'm about violence and death, not perfection. But the sincerity in her eyes makes something unfamiliar uncurl in my chest, something warm and dangerously close to hope.
"Get dressed," I say gruffly, uncomfortable with the emotion threatening to choke me. "Reaper doesn't like to be kept waiting."
She nods, slipping out of bed with the sheet wrapped around her. I catch a glimpse of her naked back, marked with faint scratches from my beard, before she disappears into the bathroom. The sight makes my cock stir again, remembering how she felt beneath me, around me.
Christ. Focus, Davidson.
By the time she emerges, dressed in my t-shirt and the sweatpants from last night, I've got myself under control again. I hand her my cut without thinking, just like I did the night before.
"It's cold in the main room," I explain when she looks at me questioningly.
She smiles, a small private thing that makes my heart skip a beat and slips into the leather. Like before, it swallows her smaller frame, but this time the sight of her in it doesn't just stir primitive possessiveness. It feels right.
The main room is already crowded when we enter. Every member is present, including the prospects standing nervouslyalong the back wall. Reaper and Ghost are bent over a map spread across the main table, their faces grim with concentration.
