Logan
“Mmkay.” I’m groggy and confused as I discern what’s happened and where I am. “Can I have water?” My mouth and throat are so dry they hurt.
Someone new speaks, “Open your mouth, I have a straw for you.”
Doing as instructed, I take long sips of the cool liquid, feeling marginally better when she pulls it away. “Thank you,” I say.
The quiet is disconcerting. I don’t know what to say, who is here with me, or even where I am, so I keep quiet until the cloth is removed from my face, and I attempt to take in my surroundings.
“Hi, Logan. My name is Maggie, and I’m the head of your care team tonight. Do you remember what happened?”
Lifting a hand to the eye I still can’t see out of, I feel the swelling and bruising and realize Connor did a lot of damage to my face.
“My stepbrother attacked me.” Frowning hurts, but I don’t recall everything, which is startling.
“I think he would have killed me if they hadn’t shown up.
” Visions of Viking and Priest filter through the memories, and I forcibly swallow, imagining how annoyed they must be, having to come to the rescue of a girl they don’t even know.
“Stepbrother?” Maggie asks.
Nodding hurts my head, so I sit back and rest it against the soft pillow. “Connor. He’s always hurting me.” Only three years older than me, he spent our teen years tormenting me. Hitting me, gaslighting me, pushing me out of or onto things that would cut me open.
“So not the two men who brought you in here?” she clarifies.
“No, they saved my life.” Or prolonged the torture, I’m not sure yet.
“You’re certain?”
Glancing at her with the one eye I can barely see out of, I nod. “They didn’t lay a hand on me. They were nothing but kind.”
There’s doubt on the nurses’ faces, and I get it. The two bikers are terrifying, but from the moment I met them, and it was made clear who I was, they’ve been nothing but nice, if not a little standoffish.
Maggie stands up at the end of the bed. “They’d like to see you. Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
As everyone leaves, it’s then that I realize my clothes have been cut away, and I’m naked under the thin sheet except for my panties, which barely cover anything. I’ve always been a sucker for cute things.
Sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I suck in a sharp breath as pain makes me dizzy. Planting my hands on the mattress beside my hips, the sheet slowly begins to fall, and before I can catch it, both men I’ve been crushing on walk into the room and get flashed.
“Oh god,” I groan, trying to cover myself, but the spinning room takes precedence, and I drop back into bed, flashing them from behind this time. “Just let me die,” I groan, not thinking they’ll hear me.
A deep, warm chuckle from behind, just as a hot and heavy hand touches the side of my ass cheek, traveling up my waist to the side of my breast, makes me shiver while I cover myself. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Priest’s resonant voice wraps me up like hot chocolate on a cold day.
“Says the man fully clothed.” Sassing back isn’t ordinarily in my personality, but I can’t help it.
Viking appears before me, a mean scowl on his face and a terrifying look in his eyes as he pulls back the sheet to reveal what I’m trying to cover. Only his eyes aren’t on my exposed breasts; they’ve locked in on the severe bruising of my ribs and hips on both sides.
Reaching forward, he gently trails his finger along the noticeable swelling, and I know the bruising is already sharply defined through my alabaster skin.
Watching his eyes roam every inch he exposes, I witness the moment he spots the older bruising, and I just know that Connor and possibly Ian are in for a world of hurt if I reveal their identities.
They each take a seat on either side of me, leaving me bare to their eyes, although I can tell it’s not for lustful reasons right now. Warm hands touch me, and I shiver. It’s the first time in my life that a man has touched me with any type of gentleness.
“You’re going to give us names, hellcat.
” A finger covers my lips as my mouth opens.
I don’t even know what I was going to say.
“This is the time for listening. Got it?” I give a thumbs up because nodding hurts.
His eyes return to my body, a finger following the trail, and as his nail scrapes across my nipple, a gasp erupts, changing the way I feel.
“You are going to be fun, aren’t you?” He seems to mutter that to himself.
“You’ll come back to the clubhouse with us. ”
Priest slips the sheet over me and gently pulls me back so I’m resting against his thigh. “You’ll heal, get all the rest you need, and then you’ll give us names.” I want to protest his demand.
“No arguing.” Viking seems to read my mind. “Or pouting.” The corner of his lips lifts, and I’m overcome with the urge to stroke my fingers through his beard. Holding back is difficult, but I do.
“Not pouting,” I manage to respond before Viking’s finger brushes across my bottom lip. Flicking my tongue out, I get a taste, and it's pure masculinity with a hint of motor oil. I don’t know why I enjoy that so much, but I get the feeling it’s because of who he is and what he seems to represent.
Safety. Protection. Freedom.
Both men give me those vibes, and I’m nearly addicted from the start.
I don’t understand the pull towards them or why it affects me so deeply.
I’ve never felt this way before. They make me wish for innumerable things, many of which I don’t think I would ever achieve, because how can one of them want me, let alone both? It’s just not in the cards for me.
“I can’t be around Trista,” comes out instead. The hurt with her is soul-deep and physical. An ache that will never go away.
“How about you let us worry about her, and you focus on the healing part of this journey,” Priest offers. “Things are a bit more complicated than we first realized when it comes to her.”
“If you say so,” I mutter, feeling exponentially more exhausted than the day I left home. Closing my eyes, I hope they’ll go away, or sleep will find me. Neither happens.
“I know you’re not sleeping,” Priest murmurs close to my ear, his warm breath heating my cooled skin. “You’re coming home with us. We’ll handle Trista and the other girls.”
Growling my frustration, my eyes remain closed. “I’m building my own life here. I don’t need to be babysat.”
Fingers pinch my skin, and I’m unable to pull away. “Open your fucking eyes, hellcat.” Viking sounds annoyed now. I have that effect on people sometimes.
“What?” He raises his scarred eyebrow at the snap in my tone.
“You’re the one who came to the clubhouse for help.” I don’t need the reminder of that mistake. “We’re offering it now. Accept it.” His growl is meant to threaten, but somehow it doesn’t scare me.
“No.”
Why am I being so stubborn? The idea of going back to the motel or Euphoria is dreadful. And now that Connor has invaded those spaces, I’d rather crawl into a deep, dark hole and die.