Chapter 9
REBEL
The first thing I registered as I slowly drifted awake was the soft warmth curled up against me, then the sweet scent of Clara’s hair drifting around me like the best kind of alarm clock. My eyes opened gradually, adjusting to the gentle morning sunlight filtering through the blinds.
She was still asleep, tucked into me with one delicate hand splayed across my chest, her breathing steady and deep. Contentment, peace, and the undeniable satisfaction of knowing this woman was right where she belonged were things I’d never truly experienced before.
I took a few moments to savor the stillness, studying the way Clara’s long lashes rested against her flushed cheeks and how her lips parted softly in her sleep.
It made my chest ache, my heart hammering in a way that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with something deeper.
Unfortunately, I had a feeling she wasn’t quite ready to face the extent of it yet.
I brushed my lips gently against the crown of her head, breathing her in before carefully untangling myself from the warmth of her arms, moving slowly to avoid waking her. It was still early, and I’d worn her out the night before.
I sat on the edge of the bed, stretching slightly, the floorboards cool beneath my bare feet as I rose.
My gaze lingered briefly on Clara’s sleeping form before I eased toward the small kitchen to start coffee.
The apartment above the farm store was cozy, filled with her touches everywhere—soft, warm colors, cheerful photos, and comfortable furniture that invited you to relax.
I found myself appreciating the little details she’d added, evidence of her vibrant personality.
Still, the place was small. The compact space was probably enough for Clara alone, but last night had proven that the double bed was a tight squeeze for both of us.
The thought of nights spent tangled together, comfortably stretched out on my king-sized bed, without the risk of rolling off the damn mattress, sparked a vivid image that heated my blood.
We’d have to figure that out soon, I decided, grabbing mugs from the cabinet and pouring the freshly brewed coffee.
I was just stirring sugar into Clara’s mug—two scoops exactly, because I’d already memorized her preferences—when the faint creak of floorboards caught my attention.
I looked up, my breath hitching at the sight that greeted me.
She stood in the doorway between her bedroom and the kitchen, sleep still heavy in her amber-brown eyes, and a soft, sleepy smile curving her lips.
My shirt from last night hung loosely on her curvy frame, the hem brushing her bare thighs, exposing miles of smooth, perfect skin that made my pulse spike so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest as my hands gripped the counter's edge until my knuckles turned white.
My eyes raked over her deliberately, lingering on the curves that were barely hidden by the thin fabric.
I couldn’t suppress the low groan that escaped me as desire burned hot in my gut.
Clara’s cheeks flushed an adorable pink under my intense scrutiny, but her eyes sparkled playfully as she padded closer, her bare feet nearly silent against the worn hardwood.
“You’re looking at me like I’m breakfast,” she teased lightly, her voice still husky with sleep but edged with a sass that sent heat streaking through me.
Her gaze lifted, her eyes dancing mischievously, and her lips quirked in that irresistible way she had of challenging me. “I’m not edible, you know.”
I set the coffee mugs aside on the counter, closing the distance between us in two long strides. My hands found her hips, pulling her close enough that the scent of apples and honey enveloped me fully, heightening the already painful ache of want that surged through me.
“Oh, baby.” My voice was thick with barely restrained need. I dipped my head, letting my lips brush just below her ear, feeling her shiver against me as my fingers tightened possessively on her hips. “I could definitely live on eating you for every fucking meal.”
I watched Clara’s cheeks flush deep pink at my blatant declaration, her amber eyes widening before quickly darting away, landing somewhere around the kitchen tiles at her feet. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, clearly flustered but trying hard to hide it.
“That’s quite the offer,” she finally murmured, her voice breathier than usual, filled with a teasing heat that went straight to my groin.
I backed her into the counter, then rested one palm on the edge beside her hip, caging her against it as I tipped her chin up with the other, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“Not an offer, baby.” My voice was low and edged with restrained desire as my thumb brushed across her lower lip, tracing its softness slowly. Her breath hitched, warm against my skin. “Just stating a fact.”
Clara’s eyes darkened, her breathing growing shallow as her chest rose and fell faster beneath the faded black cotton of my T-shirt. She swallowed hard, her gaze locked on mine, her lips parting softly as though daring me to claim what I’d just promised.
“Are you hungry now?” she teased softly, a sultry note threading through her tone despite her attempt at sass. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip nervously, and the sight nearly snapped the last of my restraint.
“For you?” I moved even closer, pressing her gently back against the counter, until the entire length of her soft curves was flush against me, my erection already throbbing insistently between us. “Starving.”
She laughed breathlessly, her hands sliding up my chest until they wrapped around the back of my neck, her fingers tangling lightly into my hair. Her touch ignited a fire in my blood, setting every nerve ending alight.
I dipped my head, brushing my lips softly over the sensitive spot just below her ear, reveling in the shiver that rolled through her body. Her apples and honey scent was a perfect reminder of exactly where I belonged.
“Ronan,” she whispered, her hips pressing into me, and her body molding perfectly against mine, instinctively seeking more friction. “We have a whole festival to—”
“Later,” I growled, cutting her off as my mouth captured hers in a demanding kiss.
My tongue swept inside to tangle with hers, tasting her fully and savoring the little sound of surprise and pleasure that slipped past her lips. Her nails scraped lightly across the back of my neck, sending sparks straight to my cock. I deepened the kiss, desperate to claim more of her.
Her back arched, pressing her even closer to me, one of my hands sliding possessively down her side until it curled around her thigh, dragging it upward and urging her leg around my hip. Her soft gasp against my lips, the eager shift of her hips beneath mine, was almost my undoing.
“Fuck, Clara,” I groaned roughly, pulling back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, my breathing ragged. “I’m not gonna make it through this day without getting inside you again.”
Her cheeks burned scarlet, but her eyes gleamed with something daring and utterly irresistible. “Then maybe you shouldn’t wait.”
A surge of pure lust ripped through me, my self-control crumbling beneath the weight of her heated challenge. With a low growl, my hands slid under the hem of my T-shirt that covered her body, savoring the feel of her soft, bare skin beneath my palms.
Just as my fingertips grazed the curves of her hips to lift her onto the counter and take exactly what I needed right there, the shrill ring of my phone cut through the charged moment.
Clara’s head dropped to my shoulder, her muffled groan echoing the frustrated growl I swallowed back. “I swear, Ronan, whoever that is had better have a very, very good reason.”
I sighed heavily, reluctantly releasing my hold on her to dig the phone from my back pocket. My jaw tightened as my gaze narrowed on the screen, King’s name flashing impatiently. The president didn't call early in the morning unless something was important—usually club business that couldn’t wait.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, giving Clara an apologetic look as I stepped away just enough to answer. “Hold that thought, baby.”
She offered me a teasing, pouty smile, her voice filled with mock exasperation. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“Damn right I do,” I growled, letting my eyes linger on her as she sashayed into her bedroom and quietly shut the door. Steeling myself against the need to follow her, I swiped my finger against the screen and put the phone to my ear. “Yeah?”
The second I answered, King’s deep voice filled my ear, heavy with an undercurrent of tightly controlled anger that immediately raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “We’ve got a problem.”
I moved instinctively toward the kitchen window, my gaze flicking across the busy grounds below, scanning the rows of trees and the bustling preparations even as I braced for the details. “Talk to me.”
King’s clipped tone was edged with tension he didn’t bother to hide.
“Echo and Wizard just flagged more surveillance footage from that so-called training facility. Cameras captured something we didn’t expect—people being brought in, restrained.
Looks like they might even be drugged. So far, none of them have come back out. Not walking anyway.”
Cold fury spread through my veins, the icy awareness that the situation in Cedar Hills was darker and more complicated than we’d initially thought. My jaw clenched tight enough to ache. “We have IDs?”
“Not yet,” King replied grimly.
“What about the ones bringing them in?”
“Negative.” King's voice hardened further. “These assholes know exactly how to stay hidden—arrive at night, faces covered, and movements careful. Wizard is working to ID them, but whoever’s running this show has been at it a long time.”