Chapter Eighteen
~ Rooster ~
I watched Liam's face as I led him through the rebuilt compound, his golden eyes taking in every detail of our restored home.
The sun hadn't fully risen yet, casting everything in that gentle light that made even the most ordinary things look like promises.
My heart hammered against my ribs as we approached our bedroom door.
After weeks of planning, of sneaking contractors over to work on this section of the retrofit while Liam was busy with security rounds, of Bear and Gunner running interference to keep my mate from discovering my surprise, the moment had finally arrived.
"Almost there, baby boy," I murmured, squeezing his slender hand in mine.
The hallway still smelled of fresh paint and new drywall, a far cry from the gunpowder and blood that had saturated everything after Victor's attack.
We'd rebuilt stronger than before—reinforced walls that could withstand more than random gunfire, bulletproof windows and steel doors, hidden security features that Liam himself had designed, backup systems for every essential service.
The physical scars had healed, much like the ones that marked Liam's body—still visible but no longer raw.
Our footsteps echoed against the new hardwood flooring, the sound oddly intimate in the predawn quiet. Most of the club was still sleeping, giving us this rare moment of solitude. I'd planned it that way, wanting no distractions when I revealed what I'd created for him.
"Close your eyes," I said when we reached our bedroom door.
Liam hesitated, that instinctive wariness still surfacing occasionally despite the trust we'd built. Then his eyes fluttered closed, a small act of faith that still humbled me after all these months.
I moved behind him, covering his closed eyes with my large hands, feeling the warmth of his skin against my palms. "I've got you," I assured him, gently guiding him forward into our room. "Just a few more steps."
I navigated him carefully through the doorway, acutely aware of his smaller frame as I directed him across our bedroom.
The standard furnishings were familiar—the king-sized bed where we'd spent countless nights talking, the dresser that still held more of my clothes than his, the nightstand with Percy's notebook resting on top.
Nothing here would surprise him.
"Ready?" I asked, positioning him to face the far wall.
I felt him nod beneath my hands. Taking a deep breath, I lowered my palms from his eyes, letting them rest on his shoulders instead. "Open your eyes, baby boy."
I watched as his eyes opened, blinking as they adjusted to the soft morning light filtering through our bedroom blinds.
His gaze swept the room, confusion flickering across his features as he noted nothing unusual.
Then I turned him slightly, directing his attention to what had once been a solid wall.
"There," I said softly, pointing to the glass door that now stood where blank drywall had been before.
Liam's head tilted in that curious way that reminded me of his lynx nature, his eyes narrowing as he studied the new addition. I could feel the subtle tension in his shoulders beneath my hands, not fear, but intense curiosity.
"Go on," I encouraged, giving him a gentle nudge forward. "Open it."
He crossed the room with those silent, graceful steps that still amazed me, reaching for the handle with cautious fingers. The door slid open with a whisper of sound, revealing what lay beyond.
I held my breath as Liam froze in the doorway, his body going utterly still with shock.
Beyond the glass door stretched a space that couldn't possibly exist in the middle of a motorcycle club compound—a private open-air atrium connected directly to our bedroom.
Natural earth replaced concrete, covered in lush grass that would be soft under bare feet.
Small trees grew from carefully placed mounds, their branches reaching toward a ceiling of reinforced glass panels that allowed sunlight to stream through while protecting from rain and snow.
Flowering bushes created secluded corners, their blooms selected for year-round color and the butterflies they would attract in warmer months.
At the far end, a small waterfall trickled over carefully arranged stones into a clear pool, the gentle sound of flowing water filling the space with soothing white noise.
The entire area was enclosed—secure, private, yet open to the sky through the glass ceiling that would let Liam see the stars at night without leaving our room.
Liam took a hesitant step forward, then another, moving as if in a trance.
I remained in the doorway, giving him space to explore what I'd created.
His fingers trailed over a smooth river rock, touched the soft petal of a purple coneflower, dipped into the cool water of the pool.
He moved with increasing confidence through the space, his golden eyes wide with wonder.
When he reached the center, he slipped off his shoes and socks, pressing his bare feet against the grass. I saw his eyes close, his head tilt back slightly as he connected with the earth beneath him.
I knew what he was doing—communing with the plants in that mysterious way he'd described, but I could never fully understand. The way that had kept him alive for fifteen years when everyone else around him died.
After a long moment, he opened his eyes and looked back at me. My breath caught at the sight of tears streaming freely down his scarred face—not tears of pain or fear, but something else entirely. Something I'd glimpsed only in our closest moments.
Joy. Pure, unguarded joy.
I crossed the threshold then, unable to stay away any longer. "Do you like it?" I asked, my voice rougher than I'd intended.
Liam moved toward me with purpose, closing the distance between us in three quick strides. Then his arms were around me, holding me with a fierceness that took me by surprise. His face pressed against my chest, his tears dampening my shirt as his body trembled against mine.
I wrapped my arms around him, one hand cradling the back of his head.
"I wanted you to have a safe place," I murmured into his hair.
"Somewhere you could shift without fear.
Somewhere you could commune with nature, but still be safely inside our home.
Somewhere that felt like freedom, but was still protected. "
He nodded against my chest, his fingers gripping my shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. When he finally pulled back, his golden eyes were red-rimmed, but blazing with emotion.
He reached for the notepad he always kept in his pocket, the one Percy had given him months ago. His hands were steady as he wrote, the pencil moving with confident strokes across the page.
When he turned it for me to see, the simple message made my heart stutter: "I'm ready to cement our bond."
I stared at the words, hardly daring to believe what I was reading. We'd discussed the mate bond, of course—the claiming bite that would link us forever, the permanent commitment it represented. I'd promised to wait until he was ready, never wanting to rush him into something so irrevocable.
"Are you certain?" I asked, searching his face. "Liam, this isn't something we can undo. Once we're bonded, it's forever."
Instead of reaching for his notepad again, Liam's throat worked visibly. His lips parted, and for a moment, I thought he was simply taking a deep breath. Then, in a voice rough from disuse, but unmistakably his, he spoke three words that changed everything:
"I'm sure, mate."
* * * *
~ Liam ~
My own voice surprised me as Rooster guided me back into our bedroom, his large hands gentle but possessive on my frame. The sound hung between us—rough from disuse, barely more than a whisper, but mine.
After fifteen years of mostly silence, those three words had scraped against my throat like gravel, yet speaking them had felt right in a way nothing else had since I was seven years old.
I watched Rooster's face, saw the wonder and desire darkening his eyes as he processed what had just happened—not just my agreement to the claiming, but the gift of my voice after so long.
"Liam," he breathed, my name a prayer on his lips. His fingers cupped my face with such reverence that I felt my chest tighten. "You don't have to speak again if you're not ready. That was enough."
I nodded, grateful for his understanding. The words had come naturally in that moment of decision, but I wasn't sure when—or if—more would follow. Instead of trying to force more speech, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, letting my actions speak the volumes my voice couldn't yet manage.
Rooster responded immediately, his mouth claiming mine with hunger that matched my own. His kiss tasted of coffee and something uniquely him—warm and spicy and home.
I felt my body melting into his as his arms wrapped around me, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head while the other pressed against my lower back, drawing me closer until our bodies aligned from chest to thigh.
His tongue teased the seam of my lips until I opened for him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. I'd been so touch-starved before him, so defensive of my personal space that even accidental contact had sent me into panic.
Now I craved the heat of his skin against mine, the solid strength of his body anchoring me to the present instead of triggering memories of the past.
"I've waited so long for this," he murmured against my lips before trailing kisses along my jaw to the sensitive spot just below my ear. "For you to be ready. For you to choose this."
His hands moved to the hem of my shirt, pausing there in silent question.
I nodded, lifting my arms to help him remove it.
The cool air of the bedroom raised goosebumps across my skin, but they didn't last long as Rooster's warm palms smoothed over my chest, his thumbs brushing across my nipples until they hardened under his touch.