Chapter 8
BUTCHER
Butcher knew that taking Princess to Wade’s bar was a mistake.
Hell, he knew it the second Princess climbed into his truck wearing those tight black jeans and that dark red top that looked sinful against her skin.
Maybe the mistake started earlier than that.
Maybe it started the moment he offered her his spare room.
Or maybe it started the second she smiled at him like she’d figured out exactly how badly he wanted her.
Yeah, he was an idiot. Either way, by the time they pulled into Wade’s parking lot, Butcher was already halfway to losing his damn mind.
“You’re glaring at the building as though it wronged you in some way,” Princess observed from the passenger seat.
“No, I’m glaring at Wade,” Butcher corrected, staring at the man who was standing in front of the building, smiling back at them like a fucking loon.
She smirked. “Is it because he invited me out?”
“No, it’s because he’s annoying as hell,” he growled.
“You’re jealous,” Princess whispered under her breath.
Butcher killed the engine and sighed. “No, I’m territorial.
” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Princess went suspiciously quiet beside him.
Shit. Butcher dragged his hand down his face.
Ten years alone, and suddenly, he couldn’t keep a single thought in his head from ending up out loud around this woman.
“That's not any better,” Princess said softly.
“No, it’s not,” he admitted. She wasn’t his to be territorial about, and he needed to remember that.
But for some reason, being around Princess had him living in a fog, and thinking about her with another man made him lose his damn mind.
She wasn’t his—he just needed to keep repeating that mantra to himself. Not that it would do him any good.
Her laugh hit him square in the chest again as she opened the door and got out of his truck.
He wasn’t sure if she was laughing at him or not, but none of that mattered right now.
Christ—he was in trouble, and if he didn’t get his shit together, this woman was going to take things from him that he wasn’t ready to give up—mostly his tightly held control, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.
Butcher quickly got out of the truck and followed her into the bar. Wade had already gone in, and for that, he was thankful. The last thing he needed was another run-in with Wade. Their pissing matches were beginning to get on his last fucking nerve.
Wade’s bar sat right on the edge of town, all dark wood and neon signs glowing against the Mississippi night.
Bikes lined the gravel lot outside, and the second Butcher stepped into the bar, he felt it.
All eyes were on him. People seemed to notice him everywhere around here.
It was one of the things that kept him home most nights.
But tonight they noticed her too, and, exactly as he predicted, every damn man turned to look at Princess when she walked in beside him. Butcher’s mood immediately got worse.
“Well, look who finally left his cave,” Wade called from behind the bar. Yeah, he was going to stir up trouble, and the last thing that Butcher wanted or needed was to deal with Wade’s shit tonight.
Music drifted through the crowded room while laughter and conversation bounced off the walls.
The place smelled like beer, whiskey, fried food, and motorcycles.
It was familiar—too familiar, and it had Butcher longing for something that he had given up a long time ago.
For one dangerous second, it reminded him of Savage Hell back in Huntsville before everything went to shit.
He missed his Royal Bastard brothers, even ten years later, and he had a feeling that might never end for him.
Princess stepped closer beside him automatically when a couple of drunk guys stumbled near the doorway. Her movement was subtle and instinctive, but it made something darkly possessive unfurl in his chest. Mine. The thought hit hard enough to piss him off, because she wasn’t his anything.
“Table in the back,” Wade called with a grin that said he noticed absolutely everything and somehow knew how uncomfortable Butcher was. Asshole.
Butcher guided Princess through the crowd with one hand against the small of her back, and Christ, touching her was another mistake.
The second he did, heat climbed straight up his spine.
She seemed to feel it too. He could tell by the way that her breath caught softly.
Neither of them mentioned it—probably because if they did, this night would spiral completely out of control.
The waitress was making her rounds, talking to the rest of the guys, when he called her over. “Dedria,” he breathed, “this is Princess.”
“Hey there,” Dedria said, nodding at Princess.
“Um, hi,” Princess said.
“You two out on a date?” she asked.
“Oh, um, no,” Princess stuttered as though the idea disgusted her. Yeah, that hurt.
“Okay,” Dedria said, “are you ready to order, or are we just drinking tonight?”
“I’d love a burger, fries, and a beer,” Princess said, taking him by surprise. “Whatever you have on tap is fine with me.”
“What about you, Butcher?” Dedria asked.
“I’ll have the same,” he said, nodding to Princess. Dedria gave him a cheeky wink and disappeared behind the bar.
“Did you two date or something?” Princess asked, picking up on Dedria being a little flirty.
“I don’t think that I’d call what we did, dating,” he said.
“I see,” Princess breathed. She sat across from him, fidgeting with the silverware that sat in front of her.
He wondered if this was the way that their night was going to go.
A part of him knew that they should have ordered their food to go, but Wade would have probably made a fuss if they tried to leave.
“The food here is pretty good,” he said, trying to break the tension.
She shrugged, “I’m so hungry that I could eat just about anything.”
He nodded, not sure what to say next. “Um, I ordered the parts for your car this morning, and they should be delivered in a few days. They said it might take a little longer with the holiday weekend.”
“Holiday weekend?” she asked. “What holiday?”
“It’s Memorial Day weekend, so everything is a bit delayed. Down here, things shut down over the long weekends, and everyone breaks out their flags and goes to the parade. It’s a whole thing in the south.”
“Yeah, we don’t do any of that up north,” she said. “I don’t think that I’ve ever been to a Memorial Day parade in my life.” He was sure that Chicago didn’t have many southern traditions. “Will it take long to fix once you have the parts?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “I can have it fixed within a day of getting them. I know that staying here isn’t your idea of a good time, but since you’re trapped here, you should try to relax a little bit,” he said.
“You first,” she challenged. “I’m betting that you haven’t relaxed in years.” He chuckled because she was right. Nothing about him screamed, “Chill,” and the idea of sitting around and relaxing made his skin crawl.
They sat in silence until their meals came.
Dedria made sure that they had everything that they needed, including more beer, before she left them to eat.
He was surprised that Wade and the rest of the guys held off coming over to their table the whole time that they were there.
Maybe his “Fuck off” attitude was keeping them at bay.
Dinner should’ve helped to settle some of this tension crawling beneath his skin, but it didn’t.
Instead, sitting across from Princess in the low light only made things worse because she was beautiful.
Not in the polished, expensive way she probably intended either.
No—it was the little things ruining his composure.
The way she laughed quietly when Wade flirted outrageously with an older waitress working behind the bar, or the way that she rolled her eyes every time Butcher got grumpy.
He noticed every time she watched him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, like she was trying to solve a puzzle, and that was the dangerous part, because nobody had tried to understand him in a very long time.
“You’re doing it again,” Princess murmured over the rim of her beer glass.
Butcher frowned slightly. “Doing what?”
“Staring,” she breathed.
His eyes dropped to her mouth before he could stop himself. “That’s your fault.” Her pulse visibly jumped in her throat. Fuck.
The music shifted then, something slower replacing the louder country song that was playing earlier.
A few couples drifted toward the small dance floor near the jukebox.
Princess glanced over at them and then slowly back at him.
Butcher already knew that look, and there was absolutely no way that he was dancing with her.
“No,” he growled.
She blinked innocently. “I didn’t even ask yet.”
“You were about to,” he said.
A smile tugged at her lips. “Do you dance?” she asked.
“No,” he said. That slipped out rougher than intended.
Princess studied him for a second. “Why not?” He wasn’t about to tell her that the last woman he danced with at Savage Hell ended up dead two years later from an overdose that nobody saw coming.
He’d keep it to himself that every good memory that he had was tied back to the Royal Bastards somehow, because some ghosts still followed him no matter how far he ran.
Instead of saying all that to her, he just shrugged. “Don’t like crowds,” he lied.
“That’s not true.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “How would you know?”
“Because you’ve been watching everyone since we walked in.” Her voice softened. “You don’t hate crowds. You just don’t trust them.” Jesus Christ. Nobody should’ve been able to read him this easily, but somehow she did.
Princess stood slowly, holding her hand out toward him. “Dance with me,” she said.
“No,” he breathed, not taking her hand.
“Please,” she begged.
“No,” he repeated. He sounded like a damn broken record.
“Coward,” she said, taunting him.
Butcher barked out a low laugh despite himself. “No one has ever called me that before,” he admitted. Her eyes sparkled triumphantly, and he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.
“You coming or not?” she asked. “I can just ask Wade to dance with me if you don’t want to.
” He should have told her no again. Instead, minutes later, he found himself standing on the dance floor with Princess pressed against him while slow music drifted through the bar.
This was definitely hell. A different kind than before, but hell, all the same because everyone was watching them.
His hand settled carefully against her waist while hers rested against his chest. She was too close. Way too fucking close. Princess tilted her head slightly. “See, you didn’t spontaneously combust.”
“It’s still a possibility,” he grumbled. She laughed softly, and damn if that sound didn’t wreck him a little bit more.
They moved slowly together, neither spoke much at first, because they didn’t need to.
The tension between them said enough. Her body fit against his too naturally—like she belonged there.
Like maybe both of them were lonely enough to mistake temporary comfort for something real, which was a dangerous thought.
Butcher looked down at her—big mistake. The lights from the bar caught in her dark hair while her eyes stayed locked on him like she wasn’t afraid of him at all.
Nobody looked at him like that anymore. Not without wanting something.
But Princess looked curious. She seemed drawn to him, and somehow that was worse.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” she murmured.
“You make that difficult not to do,” he whispered into her ear. Her fingers curled slightly against his chest. The movement felt intimate enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
“Maybe I like making you uncomfortable,” she taunted.
Butcher’s grip tightened against her waist instinctively. “You don’t understand how dangerous that game is, Princess.” Her lips parted slightly, and that was it. That tiny sound and the shy look from her, and he was a goner. He was completely fucking gone.
Butcher stopped moving entirely, staring down at her while the rest of the bar blurred into background noise. She seemed to feel the electricity humming between them, too. He knew she did, because suddenly her breathing matched his—uneven and heavy as though she was waiting for something.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly. She didn’t.
Christ. That last thread of control snapped, and Butcher grabbed her jaw gently but firmly and kissed her.
The second their mouths met, the entire damn world seemed to disappear.
The kiss was hot and hungry as her gasp melted straight into his mouth.
Princess grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling herself closer like she needed him just as badly as he wanted her. That nearly destroyed him.
Butcher kissed her deeper as months, no, years of restraint unraveled all at once.
She tasted like whiskey and temptation and every bad decision he’d spent ten years trying to avoid.
The bar erupted somewhere around them. It was probably Wade being an asshole, but Butcher didn’t care.
Not when Princess was kissing him back like she’d been waiting for this, too.
Not when her fingers slid into his hair and tugged hard enough to make his entire body tense. Jesus Christ.
He finally pulled back only because breathing became necessary.
He looked her over, which was a big mistake because Princess looked completely wrecked.
Her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and dark eyes stared up at him like she wasn’t sure what hit her either.
Butcher knew instantly that he was absolutely screwed now.