Priest
She’s feisty; you wouldn’t think it by looking at her, because she’s a little sprite of a thing, but Logan has a quiet fire inside of her that has been waiting to be stoked. Viking seems to be the one coaxing the flames into an inferno as she glares at him.
They’re in a standoff in the middle of the clubhouse as Vik attempts to get her up to our room to rest. She’s still swaying on her feet, hurt, and pumped full of drugs. I could get involved, side with Viking, because I damn well agree with him, but watching their silent battle is amusing as hell.
“He’s about to toss her over his shoulder and take those stairs. I suggest you stop that from happening, so she doesn’t get hurt.” Finleigh laughs next to me. She’s every bit as amused, because Viking is a hard shell of a man. Fin has been dying to see the guy fall for a woman.
“This is quite a bit more fun for me, though. I think she might win.” Logan’s spine straightens as Viking takes a step forward. Our eyes glance off each other, and I can see shit’s about to hit the fan. “Fine, I got this.”
Sauntering forward, I gently wrap my arms around Logan’s waist, and she sinks into me, as if she were just waiting for me to come and lend her strength.
“Sprite, you’re stressing him out.” Her elbow digs into my ribs. “Sorry, girl, I’m on his side. I’m just here to prevent him from treating you like a sack of potatoes and sending you right back to the hospital with broken ribs; you’re all tender now.”
“I’m fine,” she grits out, but I hear the exhaustion, the agony she must be feeling.
“Fine, my ass,” Viking growls.
“She does have one of those.” Miami howls when we both spear him with a murderous glare before Free shoves him out the back door so we don’t kill him.
“Please don’t make me.”
I stare down at the defeated woman in my arms, her eyes glued to Viking, and I’m glad as fuck she doesn’t try to play us against each other.
Vik steps forward again, cupping her face in both of his big paws and forcing her to look up at him. “Tell me why.” His demand is softer this time.
He swipes the tears as they slowly drip down Logan’s cheeks, and we watch her chin wobble as she finds her words. “I’m afraid to be alone,” she confesses, and her shoulders sag in defeat. “That he’ll find me again.”
“Never,” Viking growls before dipping and claiming a heated kiss that makes me green with envy, wanting a taste of her too. “Give Priest some sugar, too, hellcat.” His fingers tighten on her jaw as he turns her head towards me.
Logan offers herself without hesitation. Sweetly licking her kiss-stained lips, she opens for me as Viking’s hand moves down to pet her throat. She moans into my mouth, pushing upwards for more. Sweeping my tongue across hers, I poke and taste every inch of her until we need to pull up for air.
“Whoa,” she mutters, inhaling a sharp breath before gradually releasing it. “Didn’t see that coming.”
Viking swipes a finger along her lower lip, capturing her attention. “You won’t see a lot of things coming, hellcat, but you can count on us always having your back.” His previous commanding tone has returned, and I can see she’s getting emotional again, but eventually nods her agreement.
“Now will you go rest?”
Her fear still lurks beneath the surface, but it’s not as present. Whoever this fucker is that attacked Logan has gotten deep into her head, and I fucking hate it.
“Yes.”
It’s obvious she’s still apprehensive about being alone, but she’s making headway. The best way to overcome fear is to fight it.
We guide her upstairs, and she doesn’t let go of either of us until we’re behind a closed door.
Viking walks her to the bed, where she sits down.
He kneels to remove her slippers and socks, then slides the blankets back so she can get under the covers.
Her wide blue eyes follow any movement we make.
Cracking open the mini-fridge, I grab a bottle of OJ, knowing she didn’t eat as much as we’d have liked before leaving the hospital, and she needs the sugar right now.
Viking says, “I’m going to hop back downstairs and make you some food.
Priest will stay with you for now. And this afternoon, we’ll introduce you to everyone around the club.
” He drops a kiss on her temple, traces the pulsing vein along her throat, and stands up to leave.
Capturing one last glance before going out the door.
I walk over to Logan, and she takes the juice I offer before lying back down. “Do you ever just feel soul-deep exhaustion?” Her question takes me by surprise as I sit on the bed next to her hip.
“Can’t say I have.” Sorrow radiates from the woman, and I want to take all that pain away. “What’s dragging you down, sprite?” She shrugs and looks away. “Logan.” I inject more demand into my voice, and her eyes fly to mine. “Spill.”
“I miss my dad and the relationship I had with my sister.” She sniffles, but no tears well. “Trista was always happy to spend time with me, and now she hates me. I just don’t understand why.”
“What happened to your dad?” Brushing a hand along her side, Logan rolls back into me, so my fingers start gliding up and down her now exposed stomach. She doesn’t ask, so I don’t stop.
“It was a car accident, I think. I don’t remember a whole lot because I was so young. I never asked questions later, though. I just believed what everyone told me.” She seems to feel guilt over that.
“Accidents happen,” I say, but from the way Trista spoke, I wouldn’t be too surprised if their mothers had something to do with it. Leaning over her hips, I switch hands, sweeping soft fingers across the bruises on her ribs and sides. “Swamp could look into things for you if you want.”
Taking my hand, she flattens my palm to her breastbone, tracing the tattooed skull there as she thinks. “Do you think Trista will talk to me?”
“When she’s sober, I do. She won’t get much choice.” She’s pissed me off enough since Logan showed up that there’s not much she won’t do for me. Trista’s not a fan of being iced out, even if she’s mad.
“I don’t want her to be forced to do it,” Logan whispers into my fingers as I touch her face. She’s got the softest fucking skin. It’s addictive.
“She was shocked; she needed time to cool down. Now that she’s got a level head, there won’t be any more issues.” I can’t promise that, but I’ll damn sure do my best. Somehow, Logan has wormed her way into my chest cavity and pleasing her is all I want to do right now.
“Will you lay with me?” The hopeful tone gets me to take off my boots and slide into bed with her. She doesn’t hesitate to cuddle into my chest, pressing her face to my throat as her hand and leg glide across my body.
Running my fingers through her hair, mindful of where she’s hurt, I massage her scalp until her breathing evens out, and I know she’s asleep. Giving me time to wonder more about the girls’ mothers and what they could have done to their father.
Trista’s mom always seemed like a walking red flag, expecting life to just hand her things. She’s entitled, bitchy, and vindictive as hell. I wouldn’t be shocked to learn she did something all on her own.
Staring down at Logan, I half-wonder, half-berate myself for being this guy and how the fuck I got here.
But there’s just something about this woman that has me in a fucking chokehold.
If it weren’t for Viking seemingly being right there with me, I’d go crazy.
I’m not the cuddly, reassuring, calm type of guy.
I’m the smash-through-doors-with-a blast-of-gunfire type of guy.
I like blood and mayhem. Thrive in it, if I’m honest. A shitty childhood fucks a guy up and prevents him from having things like Brute and Axl have.
A woman, a child, those things aren’t for men like Viking and me.
We’re leading the crazy train to hell when it’s our time, and a woman means we need to be careful.
Something neither of us has been since we were infants.
Scoring my nails down Logan’s arms, she shivers and moans, trying to snuggle deeper into my side.
There are hidden layers to this woman; I can see it now.
She’s young, yes, too fucking young, but that’s not even an issue, it would seem.
Her resilient spirit is what attracts me.
She’s a little shy, but the fight I keep glimpsing behind her eyes is so fucking hot.
I love a feisty woman, and I think she just needs a safe space to feel free to fight back.
As cruel as we are, hitting women, hurting them in any manner, is not something we do. Even with how much Trista pissed us off the other night and will likely do once she learns Logan is here again, we’d never raise a hand to her.
“Don’t you two look comfortable,” Viking mutters from the doorway, a covered plate in his hand.
“Ain’t nobody stopping you from joining us.” I scowl at him, disliking that he’s trying to put distance between them. I’m not surprised; Viking had a shittier life than me. He’s had no examples set for him of what caring for someone else means.
Placing the plate on the dresser, he comes to stand at the end of the bed, watching her critically. “Don’t want to hurt her,” he says. His excuse is bullshit.
“More like, don’t want to catch feelings.” Though I think it’s too late for both of us.
He snorts, glaring at me in challenge before taking off his boots and pulling the covers off Logan to slide in behind her. The change in her disposition is immediate. The woman may be passed out cold, but her body understands what’s happening and who is with her.
Viking presses his front to her back, and she wiggles her ass into him while her head remains on my chest. My friend doesn’t hesitate to take what she’s offering and slides a hand around her front, cupping her pussy in his palm. She gasps but remains asleep.
“She’s something special,” I mutter.
He grunts in agreement, and somehow, we stay just like this for hours. No more touching, no trying to coax her awake. Just two men holding the woman who could mean everything to them without making a single commitment to the fact.
She’s got us wrapped around her little fucking fingers.
We’re so fucked.