Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Meghan
The sunlight filtering through the curtains feels like daggers to my eyes.
I groan, squeezing them shut tighter as consciousness creeps in unwelcome.
My head is pounding, a dull throb that seems to pound through my entire body.
Every muscle aches, protesting even the slightest movement.
I'm vaguely aware that I'm not in my own bed.
The sheets feel different, softer somehow, and there's a comforting warmth beside me that I'm not used to.
As I slowly blink my eyes open, wincing at the light, I realize where I must be.
Tor's room in the clubhouse.
A gentle hand brushes against my forearm, and I turn my head slightly to see Tor lying next to me, his eyes filled with concern.
"Hey, sweetheart," he says softly, his deep voice rough with sleep. "How are you feeling?"
I try to speak, but my throat feels dry and scratchy.
I swallow hard before attempting again. "Like I've been hit by a truck," I rasp out. "Everything hurts."
Tor's brow furrows, and he props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me.
His dark hair is tousled from sleep, and I can see the edge of his skull tattoo peeking out from under the sheets. "I'm sorry, Meg. Do you want me to get you some painkillers?"
I nod weakly, immediately regretting the movement as a fresh wave of pain washes over me. "Please," I whisper.
As Tor slides out of bed and pads towards the bathroom, I take stock of my surroundings.
The room is simple but comfortable, with dark wood furniture and deep green walls.
It suits Tor, I think.
Masculine and no-nonsense, but with an unexpected touch of warmth.
I try to sit up, but my body protests vehemently.
A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, and Tor is instantly back at my side, a glass of water in one hand and pills in the other.
"Easy there," he murmurs, setting the items on the nightstand. "Let me help you."
With infinite care, he slides an arm behind my shoulders, supporting me as he helps me into a sitting position.
The movement sends fresh waves of pain through my body, and I can't help but wince.
"I've got you," Tor says, his voice a soothing rumble.
He hands me the pills and then the water, watching closely as I swallow them down.
"Thanks," I manage, leaning back against the headboard.
The cool wood feels good against my aching muscles.
Tor settles back on the bed next to me, his hand finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Do you remember much about yesterday?" he asks cautiously.
I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. "Some," I admit. "It's all a bit... hazy."
"That's normal," Tor assures me. "You took quite a hit."
I nod slowly, memories of the attack at the clubhouse flashing through my mind.
The fear, the pain, the chaos... I shudder involuntarily, and Tor's grip on my hand tightens.
"You're safe now," he says firmly, as if reading my thoughts. "I promise you, Meghan. No one's going to hurt you here."
I want to believe him. God, how I want to believe him.
But a lifetime of running, of always looking over my shoulder, isn't easy to shake off. "I know," I say instead, not meeting his eyes.
Tor sighs, and I can feel his gaze on me. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know," he says softly. "It's okay to be scared. Hell, after what you've been through, I'd be worried if you weren't."
His words catch me off guard, and I look up at him.
There's no judgment in his eyes, just understanding and something else... something that makes my heart skip a beat.
"I'm not used to this," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Having someone... care."
Tor's expression softens, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my face. "Well, get used to it," he says, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, we just look at each other, and I feel something stronger than ever between us.
It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once, this connection that seems to be growing stronger by the day.
Tor's bottle green eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the concern etched in his features.
Taking a deep breath, I let my guard down. "I’m going to be okay. I'm tired, Tor. So damn tired," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm exhausted from constantly looking over my shoulder, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I just... I want to be at peace. Is that too much to ask?"
The words tumble out, and with them, the emotions I've been holding back.
My eyes sting with unshed tears, and I blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay.
Tor's expression softens, and he reaches out, his fingertips brushing gently against my cheek.
The tenderness of the gesture nearly undoes me.
"I'm going to handle this, Meghan," he says, his voice low and determined. "I'll take care of it. You don't have to run anymore."
His words, meant to comfort, instead send a jolt of fear through me.
I shake my head, feeling the first tears spill over.
"You don't understand," I choke out. "My father... he isn't someone you can just handle. He's not like other threats you've faced."
I think about all the times I've tried to escape, all the close calls, all the people who've been hurt because they tried to help me.
The weight of it all crashes down on me, and I can't hold back the sob that escapes my throat.
"You don't know what he's capable of," I continue, my words coming out in a rush. "He has connections, resources. He's relentless. I've seen what happens to people who get in his way, Tor. I can't... I can't let that happen to you. To any of you."
Tor's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination that both thrills and terrifies me.
He cups my face in his hands, his calloused palms rough against my tear-stained cheeks.
"Listen to me, Meghan," he says, his voice low and intense. "The club can handle any threat that comes our way. We've dealt with cartels, rival gangs, corrupt cops. Your father might be a monster, but he's not invincible."
I want to believe him.
God, how I want to believe him.
The Raiders of Valhalla aren't just any motorcycle club—they're my second family.
I've seen their strength, their loyalty, their ruthlessness when pushed.
But even as I nod, a cold knot of dread settles in my stomach.
My father isn't just another threat.
He's a nightmare made flesh, a man who sees his own daughter as nothing more than a commodity to be traded or disposed of.
The club may be strong, but are they strong enough to withstand the full force of his wrath?
I swallow hard, trying to push down the fear threatening to choke me. "Tor, please," I whisper, my fingers curling around his wrists. "Promise me you'll be careful. Please."
His expression softens, and he leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. "I promise, baby. But you don't need to worry about me, not in the slightest. I can handle myself."
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, half-hysterical. "That's all I've ever done," I admit, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "Worry about you. From the moment I met you, I've been terrified of losing you. Because... because that's what you do when you love someone."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning.
I watch as Tor's eyes widen, a mix of surprise and something deeper, more profound, flickering across his face.
Without warning, he surges forward, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.
His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing away my tears as he pours everything he feels into the connection between us.
"I love you," he murmurs against my mouth, punctuating each word with another kiss. "I love you, Meghan. So fucking much."
My heart soars at his declaration, and I respond by deepening the kiss, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.
Despite the aches in my body, a different kind of heat begins to build, a desperate need for him that overshadows everything else.
"I want you," I breathe, tugging him closer.
Tor pulls back slightly, his brow furrowing. "Baby, that's not a good idea. You're hurt, and I don't want to?—"
I cut him off with a growl of frustration. "Shut the hell up and fuck me, Tor."
His eyes darken with desire, but I can still see the hesitation. "Meghan, I?—"
"Please," I whisper, my voice raw with need. "I need to feel you. To know this is real."
Something in my tone must convince him because he nods slowly.
With careful movements, he begins to undress me, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle as they skim over my skin.
I shiver, partly from the cool air and partly from the intensity of his gaze.
As he exposes my breasts, Tor leans down, taking one nipple into his mouth.
The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through me, momentarily drowning out the lingering pain.
His tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, and I arch into him, craving more.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, trailing kisses across my collarbone. "I don't want to hurt you, baby. Tell me if it's too much."
I shake my head, impatient. "You can't hurt me, Tor. I need you inside me. Now."
He positions himself between my thighs, his impressive length brushing against my entrance.
With agonizing slowness, he begins to push in, watching my face for any signs of discomfort.
The stretch and fullness as he enters me is exquisite, and I moan softly.
But his movements are so careful, so measured, that frustration builds within me once more.
"Tor," I pant, gripping his shoulders. "Please, I'm not made of glass. I want you to make love to me. Really make love to me."
He hesitates for a moment, searching my eyes.
Whatever he sees there must reassure him because he nods, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"As you wish, my love," he says, and then he begins to move, our bodies joining in a dance as old as time itself.
Tor's hips snap forward, driving into me with a force that makes me gasp.
The hesitation from before is gone, replaced by raw passion and need.
His bottle-green eyes lock onto mine, intense and filled with desire.
"Like this?" he growls, setting a punishing rhythm that has me clinging to him.
"Yes," I moan, my nails raking down his back. "God, yes."
The pain in my body fades away, overwhelmed by waves of pleasure.
Tor's muscular frame moves above me, his chest tattoo rippling with each thrust.
I trace the skull with my fingertips, feeling the raised lines of ink beneath my touch.
"Meghan," he groans, burying his face in my neck. "You feel so fucking good."
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
The new angle has him hitting just the right spot, and I cry out, my body tensing with building pleasure.
"That's it, baby," Tor encourages, his voice rough. "Let go for me."
His words push me over the edge, and I come undone beneath him, waves of ecstasy washing over me.
Tor follows soon after, his body stiffening as he finds his release deep inside me.
For a moment, we lie there, panting and intertwined.
Then Tor starts to pull out, and I whimper at the loss.
But before he can fully withdraw, he pauses, his eyes fixed between my legs.
"Fuck," he breathes, sliding back in with a smooth thrust that makes me gasp. "I love seeing your pussy drip with my cum."
The crude words, spoken in his deep, gravelly voice, send a shiver of desire through me.
But exhaustion is creeping in, and I know we both need to rest.
As we settle into his bed, a thought occurs to me. "Where's Tindra?" I ask, suddenly realizing I haven't seen our daughter since yesterday.
Tor strokes my hair, his touch gentle. "She's over at my father's house, with Rev and Dalla. They're having some girl time."
Relief washes over me. "That's good," I murmur, grateful for the safety net of Tor's family. If she can't be with us, Fern and Runes are the next best thing.
"She'll be safe there."
Tor nods, pulling me closer. "Always, babe. We protect our own."
As I drift off in Tor's arms, I can't help but wonder how long this momentary peace will last.
My father's shadow still looms, a constant threat to the happiness we've found.
But for now, in this moment, I let myself believe in the safety Tor promises, in the strength of the club, and in the love that surrounds us.