Chapter 2
Wolf
I kiss her again.
Her mouth opens under mine with a sound that goes straight through me, and for a second the bar disappears. There’s only the heat of her body in my lap, the grip of her hands on my cut, and the way she leans into me like she’s found the one place in the world that isn’t moving.
I pull back when I have to breathe.
She’s still right there, soft and shaking, her eyes wide like she doesn’t know what happens after a man claims you like that in public. Her cardigan has slipped, the dress is wrinkled, and she looks like she was dropped into this world with no warning and told to survive anyway.
Curvy. Beautiful. Too damn beautiful.
The kind of woman who could melt the walls I built if I get careless.
My hand stays locked around her waist, steady and firm like an anchor.
Her fingers clutch my cut like leather can keep her together.
I lift my eyes over her shoulder.
He’s close enough to be a problem.
He moves like people usually step aside for him. Calm in a room that runs on smoke and muscle. No hesitation, no doubt, no rush.
She goes rigid on my lap when he stops at the edge of my table. Her breath catches and her whole body braces like she expects to be grabbed.
My grip tightens at her waist, holding her in place.
I dip my mouth to her ear. “Stay with me. Don’t turn around.”
She nods once, quick and scared.
He looks down at her like she’s something he misplaced.
“Evie,” he says smoothly. “There you are.”
Evie.
The name suits her. Soft, pretty, and stronger than it sounds.
The air in the room changes. Chairs scrape. A couple of patched brothers straighten without making a show of it. The bartender stops moving for a beat. Nobody needs instructions. They just pay attention.
Evie’s hands bunch harder in my cut. She still doesn’t move.
I keep my eyes on him. “You’re too close.”
His gaze slides to mine, measuring. Then it flicks to the skull patch on my back and the cut on my shoulders. He registers what he walked into.
He keeps his polite smile anyway.
“This is a private matter,” he says.
Evie flinches like the words have weight.
I lean back in my chair and keep her right where she is. Protected. Mine.
“It isn’t private anymore,” I say.
His smile tightens. “Excuse me?”
I let my voice stay low. “You came into my bar and called for my woman.”
The words land heavy.
Evie’s breath shudders. She stays in my lap.
The man’s eyes narrow. “Your woman.”
“Yes.”
He tries to aim his voice at her again, softer, like he can pull her out from behind me with a tone. “Evie. Get up.”
Her body locks. She doesn’t move.
My jaw tightens.
“She’s staying,” I say.
He exhales, controlled irritation leaking through. “She made an agreement.”
Evie’s fingers dig into my leather hard enough to wrinkle it.
I slide my thumb once along her waist, steadying.
“Breathe,” I murmur near her hair.
Her breath shakes out, thin.
The man watches my hand like he didn’t expect a biker to touch a woman gently.
He tries a different angle, still smooth. “She’s an adult. This is her choice.”
Choice.
I can hear the lie underneath it. I can see it in her posture, the way her shoulders are trying to curl inward like she can make herself smaller than her own skin.
I tip my head. “Then she chose. Me.”
His jaw flexes. “No, she didn’t. She’s playing a game.”
“She is mine,” I correct, and my voice stays calm because calm is worse. “This isn’t a game.”
Evie shifts like she wants to vanish again. Like she regrets existing loudly.
It twists something ugly in my chest.
The man’s eyes travel over her body, lingering like her fear belongs to him.
“Evie,” he says, patient now, “this won’t end the way you think it will.”
A promise. A threat.
The room is listening.
I lean forward a fraction, still seated, still holding her.
“This ends right now,” I tell him.
He smiles thinly. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did.”
His eyes harden. “You don’t know what you’re inserting yourself into.”
I’ve heard that line before. Men talk like that when they think they can scare you into backing down.
I don’t bother explaining what I know.
I let my voice drop, quiet and mean. “Say one more word to her and you’ll leave here bleeding.”
Evie makes a small sound. I tighten my hold, grounding her.
The man finally looks around properly. Patched men at tables. The bartender watching. The fact that nobody here is on his side.
He lifts his hands slightly, a gesture that says he's reasonable. Like he’s doing me a favor.
“Fine,” he says. “I didn’t come to fight.”
“Good,” I reply. “Because you don’t stand a chance.”
Irritation flashes across his face, then smooths out again.
“This won’t remain like this,” he says.
He aims the next part at her, not me. He wants to get under her skin.
“Evie. I'm sure you’ll come back when you understand the cost.”
She goes cold on my lap.
My hand clamps at her waist, solid. “You’re done speaking to her.”
He looks at me now, and the pleasant is gone. “You can’t take her away from me.”
I lean in just enough for him to feel it. “Watch me.”
For a heartbeat he holds my gaze, pride weighing against pain.
Then he nods once, sharp with irritation, and turns.
He walks out like he owns the street outside too.
The door shuts behind him.
The bar exhales. Music swells back up. Laughter returns in cautious bursts. My brothers settle without a word, like they always do when a line gets drawn.
Evie is still in my lap, breathing like she ran miles.
I dip my mouth close to her ear. “You know him.”
She nods.
Her throat works. “My father. He… he made a deal.”
Heat flashes behind my ribs, the kind that wants to break things. I keep it leashed.
For her.
“Look at me, angel,” I tell her.
Her hazel eyes lift. Fear, yes. Spine too. Stubbornness hanging on by its nails.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head fast. “No.”
“You sure?”
Another nod, smaller.
She swallows. “I’m sorry.”
The words land wrong. Like she thinks she owes anyone anything for surviving.
“Don’t,” I say.
Her brows knit. “I dragged you into this.”
I lean in, voice rough. “You asked. I answered.”
Her lashes flutter like she doesn’t know what to do with that.
I stand and lift her with me. She gasps, arms sliding around my neck on instinct.
Behind the bar, the bartender’s gaze meets mine. “Wolf?”
“I’m leaving,” I say.
He nods once.
I carry her out into the cold night, her arms looped around my neck like she’s afraid letting go will send her right back into the bar.
“I can walk,” she whispers against my jaw.
“I know,” I say. “I’m not letting you.”
Her breath shudders. Her eyes flick to the darkness beyond the lot and her courage thins. She hates that it does. I can see it.
My bike sits where I left it, dust on the tires from the road that leads out past town and into quiet. I set her down carefully, hands staying at her waist until her legs steady.
I grab the spare helmet and slide it over her hair. My hands work the strap under her chin, quick and sure.
She swallows. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
Her head turns. “Your place?”
“Yes.”
Her arms hover at her sides like she doesn’t know what to do with them. Like she’s afraid touching me will make this too real.
“Listen, angel,” I say. “That man came into the bar for you. You think he stops because I told him to leave?”
Her throat bobs. She shakes her head once.
“I’m not handing you back,” I continue, low and flat. “And I’m not leaving you in town where he can find you again. Too many doors. Too many people. Too many places to corner you.”
She draws a shaky breath. “So you’re… taking me?”
“Yes,” I say. “To my cabin. Secluded. Locked. No neighbors close enough to see anything. You’ll be safe there tonight.”
Her eyes search my face, like she’s trying to find the catch.
“And if I don’t want to go?” she asks, voice small.
I hold her gaze. “Then tell me now.” My jaw tightens. “If you stay in town, you’re a target. With me, you’re not.”
For a second, she just stands there in the cold, looking like she’s been chased by something she still can’t outrun.
Then she nods. Once. Sharp.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I swing onto the bike and pull her in close behind me, guiding her hands where I want them. Around my waist.
She hesitates for half a heartbeat.
Then her arms wrap around me, tight, like she’s afraid the night might take her again if she lets go.
Good.
I take the back roads without thinking. Trees swallow the streetlights. Pinehaven falls behind us like a rumor. The ride goes quiet except for the engine and the steady thrum of her trying to hold herself together against me.
When the cabin finally appears, squat and solid between the pines, I kill the engine.
Silence drops heavy.
She stays still for a beat, her head turning as she takes in the dark outline of the place. Like she’s deciding if she’s safer or more trapped.
I swing off first and reach back for her. She takes my hand and lets me steady her as she climbs down, legs a little unsteady on the dirt.
“You’re safe here,” I say. “Do you understand?”
Her nod is small.
I pull her helmet off carefully and set it on the seat. The second the cool air hits her face, she sways like the adrenaline finally gave up holding her upright.
My hand catches her waist instantly.
Her breath hitches.
I don’t let go.
I should bring her inside, lock the door, get her water, ask questions, make a plan.
Instead, my gaze drops to her mouth, and my body remembers the way she kissed me like she had nothing left to lose.
I force myself to look away.
My voice comes out rough, honest enough to be dangerous.
“If I kiss you again tonight,” I tell her, “I won’t stop.”
Her eyes widen, heat flashing through the fear for one breath.
I tighten my hand at her waist like a warning to myself.
“Then kiss me.”