Trixie
A dangerous ache bloomed low in her stomach when she looked at him.
He lay on his back, arm thrown over his head, the sheet low on his hips.
The tattoo on his ribs—something dark that rose and fell with his breathing, caught her eye.
Without the eyepatch, the scar under it looked almost soft in the gray morning light. He looked more human—vulnerable, even.
She should have gotten up and run from that room, and from the compound, but she didn’t move. She didn’t run, even though her heart was telling her to run. For the first time in weeks, maybe even years, she let herself be still.
Cyclops’s breathing changed before he woke. A subtle shift, the kind only a man used to danger would make. His eye blinked open, slow but focused. He looked at her like she was the first thing that made sense all night.
“Morning,” he rasped.
Her heart did something stupid, but she still found her voice. “Morning,” she squeaked.
He reached out slowly, giving her every chance to pull away from him, and brushed a strand of hair off her chin. “You’re still here,” he whispered as though he didn’t think that she would be.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
“Most women don’t stay,” he breathed. “They stick around for a bit, but are usually gone by morning.”
“Well, I’m not like most women,” she insisted. “Besides, most men that I know wouldn’t drag me off to a fortified biker compound,” she said dryly.
He smirked. “Yeah, well. I’m not like most men.
” She rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with a smile.
Damn him. Why did he have to be so charming?
The last twenty-four hours hit her all at once—the bar, the slashed tires, the guys in the woods, the drone, the sex.
God, the sex. She swallowed hard and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.
Cyclops’s smirk faded as he sat up beside her. “You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said too quickly.
“Trixie,” he said, not seeming to buy her lie.
She wasn’t fine, but there was no way that she wanted to lose her shit in front of him.
The way he said her name, she felt it everywhere.
Like he already knew which parts of her were stitched with fear and which parts were held together by spite.
She looked at him. Really looked, and that’s when she saw the truth—he wasn’t regretting last night, but he was giving her an out.
That made something inside her twist—because she didn’t want an out.
Not from him. Not from the way he looked at her like she wasn’t a problem, but a choice.
Still, the world wasn’t going to pause because they’d crossed a line.
Her father certainly wouldn’t stop coming for her.
She pulled in a deep breath and forced herself to speak. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she said. Cyclops didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look surprised. But something in his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“You regretting it?” he asked.
“No.” The word escaped too fast. But she owed him her honesty. She swallowed, “No, I don’t regret it.”
He nodded once, like he’d expected her to say that. “But you’re scared of what it means.”
“I’m not scared,” she lied. She was terrified of what had happened between them and what it would mean for them both.
“Yeah, you are,” he said softly. “You’re scared because it wasn’t just sex.”
Her cheeks heated. She hated that he could make her blush with the truth. “You think you know me so well?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t know everything about you. Not yet, but I plan on finding out everything that I can about you, honey. But I know enough to see you’re spinning your wheels trying to figure out how to handle everything that happened between us.”
“I’m not—” She started.
“Trixie.” He slid closer to her, leaning into her body. “Last night didn’t change the plan. It didn’t chain you to me. You don’t owe me anything.”
She stared at the blanket twisted in her fists. “I know.”
“You can still walk away whenever you want.”
Her throat tightened painfully. “You don’t get it. If I walk away, I die.”
“Then stay,” he said simply.
“That’s not a plan,” she insisted.
“No, but it’s for your protection,” he corrected.
She let out a frustrated, helpless sound. “I’m not your responsibility.”
“You’re not,” he agreed easily. “But you’re under my protection.”
She laughed bitterly. “Same thing.”
“No,” he said, lifting her chin with two fingers. “Responsibility is something you take on because you have to. Protection is something you choose to give.”
Her breath stuttered. “And I choose you,” he said quietly. “Last night or not—doesn’t matter. I chose you the second you walked into that bar and looked at me like you weren’t afraid of anything.”
“I was terrified,” she whispered.
“Good,” he murmured. “It means you know what danger looks like and you’re smart enough to be afraid of it.”
Her pulse kicked hard in her chest. “Cyclops—” He kissed her forehead—softly, gently, like she was something worth being careful with. Then he pulled away.
“We’ve got a meeting downstairs,” he said. “I’m sure that my brothers will want answers, and we’re going to give them some.”
Her stomach dropped. “Your club won’t want me here. After everything that’s happened, they’ll want me to leave.”
“They won’t get to make that choice,” he said.
“That’s not fair to them,” she countered.
“It’s not about what’s fair. It’s about survival. They all understand that. They’ve been through shit like this before, and they’ll want to help you.” He stood and grabbed his jeans, slipping them on. She watched him with a mixture of awe and dread.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “You coming?” he asked. She liked that he wasn’t giving her the order to get dressed and follow him, but she couldn’t tell him no. Not now, after the hell that she had put him and his club through.
She hesitated. “Yes.” She trusted him, and that scared her more than any shadow in the woods. Cyclops held her gaze a long moment—long enough that something warm and dangerous flickered between them again. Then he nodded.
“Good,” he said quietly. He waited for her to get dressed, and as she followed him downstairs—into a room full of armed bikers, into a future that wasn’t hers yet—Trixie realized something sharp and terrifying and true.
She would fight beside Cyclops. She just hoped that the danger she brought to his doorstep wouldn’t break him in the process.