Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Meghan
I wake up completely startled, my heart pounding as I try to remember where I am.
Soft morning light filters through unfamiliar curtains, casting a warm glow across the room.
As my eyes adjust, I take in the sight of dark wood furniture, clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, and the unmistakable scent of pure man—a mixture of sandalwood and grease.
I’m in Tor's room.
I’m in his bed.
The events of last night come rushing back in a flood of sensory memories.
Rough hands sliding over my skin.
The taste of beer on his lips.
The way he made me feel alive for the first time in years.
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as I stretch, relishing the pleasant ache in my muscles.
God, it felt so damn good.
I still can't quite believe it happened.
Turning my head, I see Tor's breathing slowly and steadily rising and falling with each breath.
He's still sound asleep, his dark hair a mess against the pillow.
I have a sudden urge to reach out and trace the intricate tattoos that cover his skin, but I resist.
I should go.
I sneak back to my room before anyone else in the clubhouse wakes up and sees me doing the walk of shame.
But as I start to sit up, I realize there's a problem.
My clothes. Most of them are scattered in the hallway outside, victims of our frenzied rush to get to the bedroom last night.
I groan internally, flopping back onto the pillow.
"Way to go, Meghan," I mutter to myself.
"Real classy."
I weigh my options.
I could wrap myself in the sheet and make a run for it, but knowing my luck, I'd probably trip and flash the entire MC.
Or I could wait for Tor to wake up and ask to borrow something to wear.
But then I'd have to face him, have to confront whatever this thing between us is becoming.
The thought sends a shiver of both excitement and terror down my spine.
I'm not used to feeling this way about anyone, let alone a member of the MC.
It goes against every survival instinct I've developed over the years.
Tor's sleep-roughened voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "You're thinking too loud."
I turn to find him watching me with those intense green eyes, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
My breath catches in my throat.
"Sorry," I manage to say, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Tor props himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down to reveal more of his tattooed chest. "You didn't. I've been awake for a while, just enjoying the view."
I feel heat rise to my cheeks and resist the urge to pull the covers up higher.
"Smooth talker," I quip, falling back on humor to mask my nervousness. "Do those lines usually work on other hóras ?"
Something flashes in Tor's eyes, and his expression grows serious.
"You're not just another hóra , Meghan. You know that."
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and I have to look away. "Right," I mutter. "I'm the special snowflake hóra who needed rescuing."
Tor reaches out, gently turning my face back toward him.
"Hey," he says softly.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. What happened last night... it wasn't just sex for me. I care about you, Meghan. More than I probably should."
I swallow hard, caught between the desire to believe him and the fear of letting myself hope.
"Tor, I..."
He silences me with a kiss, slow and tender in a way that makes my toes curl.
When he pulls back, there's a determined glint in his eye. "I know you've been hurt before," he says. "I know you're scared. But I'm not going anywhere, okay? Whatever this is between us, I want to see where it goes."
I take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the emotions swirling inside me.
A hóra shacking up with the Prez’s son? Yeah, right.
Part of me wants to run, to protect myself from the inevitable pain that always seems to follow any glimpse of happiness in my life.
But a larger part, the part that's been slowly awakening since I met Tor, wants to stay right here in this moment.
"Okay," I whisper, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. "Me too."
Tor's face breaks into a radiant smile, and he pulls me closer, wrapping his strong arms around me. I melt into his embrace, feeling safer than I have in years.
We lay there in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the closeness.
But eventually, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl, reminding me that it's been a while since I've eaten.
Tor chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. "Hungry?"
I nod, grateful for the change in subject. "Starving, actually. But, uh... there's a slight problem."
He raises an eyebrow. "What's that?"
I gesture toward the door. "Most of my clothes are out in the hallway. Unless you want me to do a naked sprint back to my room, I'm kind of stuck here."
Tor's eyes darken with desire at the mention of me being naked, but he quickly shakes it off.
"As tempting as that sounds," he says with a smirk, "I'd rather keep that view all to myself from now on out."
He climbs out of bed, giving me an unobstructed view of his muscular body as he walks to his dresser.
I can't help but stare, admiring the play of muscles beneath his tattooed skin.
Tor catches me ogling him. "Like what you see?"
I roll my eyes, but I can feel the blush creeping up my neck. "You're okay, I guess," I tease.
He laughs, tossing me a plain black t-shirt. "Here, put this on. It'll be big on you, but it should cover everything important."
I slide the shirt over my head, inhaling the scent of Tor that clings to the fabric.
It falls to mid-thigh, preserving my modesty but leaving my legs bare.
I strike an exaggerated pose. "How do I look?"
Tor's eyes roam over me appreciatively. "Beautiful," he says, his voice husky. "But then again, you always do."
I duck my head, unused to such genuine compliments. "You're biased," I mutter.
"Damn right I am," Tor agrees easily.
He crosses the room and scoops me up in his arms before I can protest.
I let out a surprised squeal, wrapping my arms around his neck instinctively.
I laugh as he carries me toward the door.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking you back to your room so you can get dressed," he explains.
"Then we're going out for breakfast. I know a great diner not far from here."
The thought of going out in public with Tor sends a flutter of nerves through my stomach.
"Like... a date?" I ask hesitantly.
Tor pauses at the threshold of his room, looking down at me with a soft expression. "Yeah," he says. "Like a date. If that's okay with you?"
I bite my lip, considering.
It’s been so long since I've been on a real date, let alone with someone I actually care about.
The idea is both thrilling and terrifying.
"Okay," I agree finally. "But you're buying."
Tor grins, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "Deal."
As he carries me down the hallway toward my room, I can't help but feel a spark of hope igniting in my chest.
Maybe, just maybe, this time things will be different.
Maybe with Tor, I can finally start to heal the wounds of my past and build something real.
But as we pass by the main room of the clubhouse, I catch sight of the Raiders of Valhalla logo painted on the far wall.
It's a stark reminder of where we are, of who we are.
The MC world is dangerous and unpredictable, and I've been burned before.
Can I really trust this newfound happiness?
Or am I setting myself up for even greater heartbreak down the line?
I push the doubts aside as Tor sets me down in front of my door.
One step at a time, I tell myself.
For now, I'll focus on getting dressed and enjoying breakfast with the man who's slowly but surely stealing my heart.
Tor suggests. "I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes?"
I nod, suddenly feeling shy. "Sounds good. And Tor?" I add as he starts to turn away. "Thank you. For everything."
He gives me that heart-stopping smile again. "Anytime, beautiful. See you soon."
As I slip into my room to get ready, I can't help but feel like I'm standing on the edge of something big.
Something that could change everything.
I lean against the back of my door, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and dread.
Part of me wants to dance around the room, giddy with the prospect of going on this date with him.
But another part—the part that's been hurt and used before—haunts me.
Don't get too attached.
You're just a clubwhore, a hora. This can't be anything real.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to silence the negative thoughts.
But they persist, reminding me of my place in the MC world.
I'm not old lady material.
I'm not the kind of girl guys like Tor end up with.
And yet...the way he looks at me, the gentleness in his touch—it feels different.
Special.
With a sigh, I push off the door and head to the bathroom.
Whatever this is between Tor and me, I decide to enjoy it while it lasts.
Even if it's just for today, even if it's just breakfast at a diner, I'm going to let myself feel this happiness.
Because who knows?
Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for something more.
I stand in front of my closet, biting my lip as I survey my options.
My fingers brush past the usual club attire—short skirts and revealing tops—before landing on a pair of dark wash jeans.
They hug my curves in all the right places, making my ass look fantastic.
I slip them on, feeling a flutter of excitement in my stomach.
"Get it together, Meghan," I mutter to myself, reaching for a push-up bra.
As I clasp it, I can't help but smirk at my reflection.
Tor's certainly going to appreciate this view.
I pull on a long-sleeve black t-shirt with a lace v-neck, the fabric soft against my skin.
It's sexy without being too obvious—perfect for snagging breakfast together.
In the bathroom, I lean close to the mirror, carefully applying a light coat of mascara and a touch of lip gloss.
Nothing too heavy.
I want to look like myself, just... enhanced.
"You're being ridiculous," I tell my reflection, but I can't stop the smile tugging at my lips. "It's just breakfast."
But as I make my way downstairs, my heart hammering in my chest, I know it's more than that.
It's Tor.
It's the possibility of having something I never thought I'd have.
I spot him as soon as I enter the main room.
He's leaning against the bar, chatting with Aziza, but his eyes lock onto me the moment I appear.
The smirk that spreads across his face makes my knees weak.
"Well, well," Aziza says, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Dang, who are you going on a hot date with?"
I open my mouth to deny it, but Tor beats me to the punch. "Me," he says, his voice filled with a possessive pride that sends a shiver down my spine.
"It's not a date," I protest automatically, even as my cheeks flush.
I don’t want anyone in the club to know what’s going on, not while it’s so fresh.
Tor raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "It's absolutely a date," he counters, pushing off from the bar and sauntering towards me. "Just so there's no confusion."
My heart does a somersault in my chest.
A date.
With Tor.
I try to keep my face neutral, but inside, I'm doing cartwheels.
"Oh really?" I manage to say, aiming for nonchalant but probably missing by a mile. "And when exactly did I agree to that?"
Tor reaches me, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back.
The heat of his touch burns through my shirt. "When we were upstairs. And then about thirty seconds ago, you had the nerve to come down those stairs looking like that," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to lean into him. "You’re not shy in vocalizing your opinions today."
He chuckles, the sound sending warmth pooling in my belly. "Baby, I never am. Ready to go?"
As we head toward the door, Aziza calls out, "Have fun on your not-date!"
I flip her off over my shoulder, but I can't keep the smile off my face.
Tor's hand guides me through the garage door, and my breath catches as I take in the sleek lines of his motorcycle. “Wait, are we taking your bike?”
It's a beast of a machine, all gleaming chrome and midnight black paint.
He chuckles, "Damn straight. Here," Tor says, handing me a helmet. "Safety first."
As I strap it on, the weight of the moment hits me.
Riding on the back of a biker's motorcycle isn't just a casual thing—it's reserved for ol’ ladies, girlfriends, for the women who truly belong.
My hands tremble slightly as I adjust the strap.
Tor asks, his bottle-green eyes searching mine. "You good?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He swings his leg over the bike with practiced ease, and I follow, wrapping my arms around his solid torso.
The engine roars to life, vibrating through me, and we're off.
The wind whips past as we cruise down the road, and I can't help but lean into Tor's back, savoring his warmth and the exhilaration of the ride.
A few miles fly by before we pull up to a diner on the corner of two state roads.
As I dismount, I pull off my helmet, shaking out my hair.
It fans around my face, and I can't resist giving it an extra little toss.
Tor's eyes darken as he watches me. "Damn, that was hot," he growls.
I laugh, a mix of nerves and genuine amusement.
"What, this?" I do it again, hamming it up this time. "According to you, everything I do is hot."
He grins, reaching out to tuck a strand behind my ear. "Well, I'm not wrong, am I?"
We head inside, choosing a booth near the window.
I'm still riding the high of the motorcycle ride when a familiar voice breaks through my reverie.
"Meghan? Is that you?"
I freeze, my eyes snapping up to meet a face I haven't seen in years.
My cousin, Lily, stands there in a waitress uniform, pen poised over her order pad.
"Lily," I manage, my voice strangled. "What are you doing here?"
She laughs, but there's an edge to it. "I work here, obviously. The real question is, where have you been? How come you never come around the family anymore?"
I feel Tor's eyes on me, curiosity burning in his gaze.
But I can't look at him right now.
I can't let him see the darkness that's threatening to swallow me whole.
"That's rich," I say, my own laugh hollow and bitter. "As if you don't know exactly why I stay away."
Lily's smile falters. "Come on, Meg. It wasn't that bad?—"
"Wasn't that bad?" I cut her off, my voice low and dangerous. "They're dead to me, Lily. All of them."
A heavy silence falls over the table.
I can feel Tor's concern radiating off him in waves, but I keep my eyes fixed on Lily.
"What are you even doing up here?" I ask, desperate to change the subject. "Last I heard, the whole clan was still down in Orlando."
Lily shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting around the diner. "Things... changed. We all moved up to Tallahassee a while back."
I narrow my eyes, suspicion coiling in my gut.
There's more to this story, I'm sure of it.
But before I can press further, Tor clears his throat.
"How about we start with some coffee?" he suggests, his tone light but his eyes sharp as they flick between Lily and me.
I nod, grateful for the interruption.
As Lily walks away to fetch our drinks, I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the ghosts of my past.
But I can feel Tor's questions hanging in the air between us, and I know he’s going to ask me about them.
Lily returns a couple minutes later, her stride purposeful as she sets down two steaming mugs of coffee. "So, about Tallahassee," she says, her voice lowered. "Shit got heavy down south. We had to move, see what the market was like up here."
I scoff, my fingers tightening around the warm mug. "The market, right."
The euphemism isn't lost on me.
I know exactly what kind of 'market' my family deals in.
Tor's eyes dart between us, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Before he can ask, he clears his throat and says, "I think we'll also take a french toast sampler, and a pancake sampler. Sunny side up and scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage."
Lily's eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on her lips. "At least your boyfriend knows what he wants."
She winks at me before sauntering off.
I feel my cheeks heat up, but Tor just chuckles, seemingly unfazed by the 'boyfriend' comment.
As soon as Lily's out of earshot, he leans in, his green eyes intense. "What was that about?"
My stomach churns, memories threatening to surface.
I swallow hard, pushing them back down.
"It's... complicated," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "My family is no good. It's why I got away from them."
Tor's hand reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. The touch is gentle, grounding. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he says softly.
I nod, grateful for his understanding, even as my mind races with all the things I can't bring myself to say.
The things he made me do.
The shame.
The fear.
I take a sip of coffee, hoping it'll wash away the bitter taste of the past.
I bite my lip, averting my gaze.
My fingers fidget with the napkin on the table, tearing tiny pieces off the corner. "It's some fucked up shit, Tor," I whisper, the words barely audible over the clinking of dishes and murmur of other diners.
He reaches out, gently stilling my hand. "Then what is it about?" he probes.
The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through me.
I take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words.
How do I explain the darkness without drowning him in it? "It's... it's not something I like to remember," I finally manage, my voice trembling slightly. "Some things are better left in the past."
Tor's thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, the gesture soothing despite my inner turmoil. "I get that," he says softly. "But sometimes talking about it can help."
I shake my head, feeling my walls start to crumble. "You don't understand," I choke out, fighting back tears. "If you knew... if you really knew what happened..." I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
The idea of Tor looking at me differently, with pity or disgust, makes my chest tighten.
I've worked so hard to leave that life behind, to become someone new.
Someone stronger.
But sitting here, with my past quite literally walking up to our table, I feel like that scared, helpless girl all over again.
Tor leans back slightly, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. "Try me," he challenges gently.
I open my mouth, then close it again, the words stuck in my throat.
How do I tell him about the things I've done?
The things that were done to me?
About the things my father made me do?
The shame burns hot in my chest, threatening to consume me.