27. The Devils Crown #2
The clubhouse rises on the horizon like a bunker, hard and ugly against the blue sky. Engines die one by one in the yard. No shouting, no post-battle rush this time. Just boots hitting gravel and shoulders dropping like the weight finally caught up to them.
Caine climbs out of the truck first, opens the passenger door for Nevaeh without a word. She steps down, blood dried on her hairline, dirt on her knees, but her chin is held high.
The brothers see her standing. See her breathing. Something loosens in the air.
Steel gives me one long look across the hood. Respect and regret are both in it. He doesn’t say Niko’s name. Doesn’t have to.
We file inside the clubhouse, and it’s dead quiet.
Before I can usher Nevaeh to my room, Rampage steps forward, puts a steaming mug of coffee on the bar in front of her, then walks away without a single joke.
For a second, Nevaeh stares at it, like she doesn’t remember what it’s for.
Then, she grabs it with shaking hands and keeps walking toward the back.
City holds the door to the hall open, but he keeps watch over the room the entire time, eyes hard, with his knife still in hand.
Honor meets my gaze from the end of the hallway. His nod is short, heavy. You did what had to be done.
I follow Nevaeh to my room and close the door behind us.
She sits on the edge of the bed and finally lets her shoulders fall. Her fingers twist the hem of her shirt like she’s trying to ground herself in something real. I crouch in front of her, hands on her knees.
“You hurt anywhere?”
She shakes her head once, eyes bright but steady. “You?”
“Only in the places that matter.”
Her breath shakes, and before I can stop myself, I’m pulling her into me, burying my face in her neck. She goes soft against me. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, holding tight.
For a long time, we don’t move. No words. Just skin and breath and the kind of silence that feels like survival.
At some point, I feel her hand slide into my hair, gentle. “You did what you had to do, Erik.”
I nod against her shoulder because I know it’s true. Doesn’t mean it didn’t carve something out of me on the way through. Her breath catches. Not a sob. Not quite. But something breaks. I lift her chin so she’s forced to look at me.
“Hear me, Nevaeh,” I say, voice rough. “You’re safe. With me. Always.”
Her eyes fill, the first tears she’s let fall since the rail yard. She grabs the front of my shirt in both fists and pulls me into her like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground.
“I was so scared,” she breathes against my neck.
I bury one hand in her hair, holding her there. “Me too,” I admit. “More scared than I’ve ever been in my miserable life. I can’t…” my voice breaks, and I let it. “I can’t lose you, Nevaeh. I don’t think I could come back from it.”
She pulls back enough to look at me, eyes wide and wet. “Erik…”
“I don’t know what to call it yet,” I rasp, thumb brushing her cheek. “But I’m falling for you, fast. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.”
Her soft gasp is swallowed when I slam my mouth to hers, and she answers with everything that’s been sitting in her chest since the moment the Iron Cross dragged her into that van. The kiss is desperate, teeth and salt and heat.
We barely get out of our clothes before I walk her backwards into the bathroom and crowd her up against the tile. The shower comes on in a hiss of steam. She’s already dragging my belt loose when I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist.
“Say it again,” she whispers against my throat.
“I’m falling for you.” My voice is broken glass and truth. “I’m fucking yours, Nevaeh.”
She moans my name as I thrust into her, head falling back against the wall.
Water and sweat slide over our skin. Her nails carve tracks down my shoulders, but I don’t stop, don’t ease up, not until her legs start to shake and her breath stutters against my ear.
I come with her name on my lips and her body clutched tight against mine like I’m never letting her go again.
When her feet finally touch the floor, she’s trembling. I wrap her in a towel and carry her straight to bed. She pulls me down with her, like she’s afraid I’ll step away and she’ll wake up alone again.
We don’t sleep.
She rides me slowly in the dark, teeth biting her lower lip, trembling as I thrust up into her and hold her hips like she might disappear if I loosen my grip. She comes with a sharp cry that rips the air in two, and I follow right after, groaning her name like a prayer.
Finally, we can breathe, and her heart’s not hammering against my ribs anymore. I lay her on her side, pull her back firmly against my chest, and press a soft kiss to her shoulder.
“Sleep,” I order quietly. “I’ve got you.”
She does. Eventually.
I stay awake, watching her, one hand splayed across her stomach, just making damn sure she’s still here.
That’s how nighttime finds us. Tangled together. Breathing as one heartbeat.
A loud knock on the door has me bolting upright in bed.
“Patch burning’s in ten,” Rampage calls, voice softer than I expected.
Nevaeh and I climb out of bed and get dressed. I’m wearing a clean pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and my cut. She’s slower than normal, but once she has on a pair of yoga pants and my hoodie, I pull her into my arms and press my lips to Nevaeh’s temple and whisper, “Stay close to me.”
She nods, fingers already curling into my cut, like she’s not letting go either.