Chapter 11
Rowan
Pounding on the door jolts me awake. I blink in the dim room, disoriented for a moment until I feel the heavy arm draped across my waist, the solid chest pressed against my back. Chaos.
The memories of last night flood back, sending heat cascading through my body. The knocking continues, more insistent.
"Fuck's sake," Chaos growls into my hair, his voice sleep-roughened and deliciously raspy. His arm tightens around me for a brief moment before he rolls away, leaving me cold where his body had been wrapped around me.
I watch through half-lidded eyes as he stalks to the door, his broad back a tapestry of tattoos, muscles shifting beneath skin. His boxer briefs sit low on his hips, and I can't tear my eyes away from his tight, defined butt.
Last night, those hands, that mouth... I press my thighs together at the memory. Six orgasms. Six! I didn't know my body could experience that much pleasure. He spent hours learning every inch of me, licking and stroking, and teasing me.
And he wouldn't let me touch him. Not really.
"Tonight's about you," he kept saying when I reached for him. I'd caught only glimpses of his manhood in the shower—thick, long, intimidating. No wonder he worked so carefully to stretch me with his fingers. I'm still not convinced it will fit, but I want to try. I desperately want to try.
Chaos yanks the door open. "This better be good."
I can't see who's standing there, but I hear a male voice respond, "It's what you asked for, prez.”
Chaos mumbles something incoherent before taking what looks like a shopping bag and slamming the door shut without another word.
I sit up quickly, clutching the sheet to my bare chest. His eyes sweep over me, darkening at the sight. He looks predatory, dangerous—and it sends a thrill through me.
"Morning, sweetheart." He brings the bag to the foot of the bed.
"What's that?" I nod toward the bag, suddenly nervous.
"Present. For you." He pushes it toward me. "Open it.” I stare at the bag, then back at him.
“A present?"
"Yeah." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You gonna open it or just look at it like it might contain anthrax?"
My fingers tremble as I reach for the bag. Inside, I find a pair of feminine but sturdy black boots with a small heel, thick soles, and buckles up the sides. They’re biker boots for women. I love them, but they had to have cost a fortune. They’re real leather.
"It’s…” I shake my head, overwhelmed. I want to tell him I can’t accept, but I know better, so I simply say, “Wow."
“These are going in the trash.” He picks up my old sneakers that I’ve patched with cardboard and duct tape and tosses them in the waste basket.
There’s something else in the bag. An envelope. I open it and pull out what appears to be a driver's license with my photo. My name. But the address listed is the club compound.
Chaos sits beside me on the bed, his weight making the mattress dip.
"You're my ol' lady now. That means I take care of you.
" His words send a confusing mix of emotions through me.
Part of me thrills at hearing him claim me so easily.
Another part wonders if this is all for show—just protection because I witnessed something I shouldn't have.
"Get dressed." He runs a finger down my bare arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Let's go down and have breakfast with the club.”
"Breakfast?” With everyone? The thought of facing all those bikers and club women makes my stomach knot.
He nods, already pulling on jeans. "Everyone needs to get used to seein’ me with my ol' lady."
My ol' lady. There it is again.
Is this real to him? Or just a ruse to convince the club I’m off limits and not a cut slut?
If I had to guess, I’d say last night was about real feelings.
I mean, last night…last night was amazing, but then I don’t have anything to compare it to.
I want to ask Chaos to clarify our relationship, to let me know exactly where I stand, but the words stick in my throat.
Instead, I quickly dress. The new boots add an inch to my height and make me feel more confident somehow. Stronger. More badass.
When I emerge, Chaos is fully dressed in his usual jeans, t-shirt, and cut. His eyes rake over me, approval evident in his heated gaze.
"Perfect," he murmurs, reaching to run his thumb over my lower lip, like he seems to have a habit of doing. "Ready?"
No. Not even close. But I nod anyway.
The clubhouse is buzzing with activity when we descend the stairs.
The party remnants have been mostly cleared away, though the lingering scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex hangs in the air.
Tables are set up in what must serve as a dining area, loaded with plates of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and pitchers of orange juice.
And the place is packed. Bikers sit clustered in groups, talking and laughing.
The cut sluts, in various stages of undress, look rough this morning.
The moment we appear, conversations die down, heads turn, and I feel the weight of every stare. Chaos's hand settles on the small of my back, guiding me forward. His touch anchors me and keeps me from bolting back up the stairs.
We approach a table where Fury and Fiend are already seated. Fiend is shoveling eggs into his mouth while Fury nurses a mug of coffee, looking like death warmed over.
"Morning," Fury grunts, barely lifting his gaze from his coffee.
"Rough night?" Chaos asks, pulling out a chair for me.
"Someone thought it'd be funny to challenge me to a whiskey drinking contest." Fury glares at Fiend. "Asshole."
Fiend grins, unrepentant. "Not my fault you can't hold your liquor like you used to, old man."
I slide into the seat, hyperaware of the stares still coming my way. Some brothers nod respectfully. Others look amused. A few of the cut sluts look at me with open curiosity. Kandi’s gaze burns into me with pure hatred.
"Food's good this morning,” Fiend tells me, pushing a platter of bacon my way.
I take a piece of bacon just to have something to do with my hands. "Does everyone eat together like this every day?"
"Nah." Chaos fills a plate with food and sets it in front of me. "Only after parties or before church."
"Church?"
"Club meetings," Fury explains, looking marginally more human after another sip of coffee. "Held once a week, unless there's emergency business."
"Which there will be today," Chaos says, his voice dropping. He turns and meets my eyes when he says, “We got word late last night that Biggy didn’t make it."
No one else looks surprised, so I have to assume I’m the only one who didn’t know. I almost forgot why I'm here in the first place. Those cartel men killed two of the Renegade Kings’ club members and are hunting me as a witness.
A hand lands on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Good morning, all.” Mama Pat's warm voice soothes my startled nerves. "Just refilling my coffee.”
I relax, offering her a small smile. Today she’s dressed in a bright orange business suit—an A-line skirt and blazer. The outfit might make any other woman look like a pumpkin. On Mama Pat, it looks bold and daring and sophisticated.
She leans closer to Chaos’s ear. “Don’t look now, but someone’s sending death glares your way.”
Chaos's jaw tightens. “I don’t know what crawled up her ass.”
“Yes, you do." Mama Pat waves a dismissive hand. "That girl's had her eye on you since she set foot on this compound. Hoped she was next in line to be your ol' lady."
My stomach drops. Well, that explains her animosity toward me.
I can’t help but wonder if Chaos encouraged those aspirations in any way.
What had he said about the cut sluts? Something about their sole purpose here being to party and fuck the brothers.
Did that mean him? Why wouldn’t it? How many times have Chaos and Kandi done what he and I did last night?
I can’t really blame her for not wanting to give him up to someone who just showed up out of the blue and is now his ol’ lady. Even if it is just a ruse to keep me safe.
I glance over at Kandi, who's now whispering to a group of club girls, all of them shooting venomous looks my way. Great. I've made enemies already.
"She'll get over it," Chaos says, though his tone suggests he doesn't particularly care if she does or not.
Mama Pat squeezes my shoulder once more before moving away. "You come find me after breakfast and I’ll give you a tour of the place.”
"Thank you,” I call after her, genuinely grateful for her kindness in this strange new world.
Chaos leans close, his breath warm against my ear. "Eat something, sweetheart. You’ll need your strength for later.”
There's a promise in his voice that sends a fountain of heat straight between my thighs. I pick up my fork and take a bite of pancake, surprised to find I'm actually hungry.