Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Shadow
Grace is still asleep when I wake.
Morning light filters through the bedroom curtains, painting her skin gold.
She's sprawled across my chest, one leg hooked over mine, her hair a pink tangle across the pillow.
The sheet has slipped down to her waist, and I can see the marks I left on her—bite marks on her shoulder, hickeys blooming purple along her throat, fingerprint bruises on her hips.
Mine.
The possessive satisfaction that rolls through me should probably worry me.
Should make me question what the hell I'm doing, claiming Phantom's daughter like this, marking her up, keeping her in my bed.
But it doesn't.
Because she's exactly where she belongs.
I trace one finger down her spine, and she stirs, making a small sound of protest.
"Shadow," she mumbles against my chest. "Too early."
"It's almost six," I tell her, my hand sliding lower to cup her ass. "Sun's been up for an hour."
She lifts her head, squinting at me through sleep-heavy eyes. "Then why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you looked too damn good sleeping in my bed." I pull her up my body until we're face to face. "Wanted to just watch you for a while."
Her cheeks flush pink. "That's creepy."
"That's honest." I kiss her, slow and deep, tasting sleep and something that's purely Grace. "Besides, I figured you needed the rest after last night."
Her flush deepens. "We should—you have to go talk to my dad—"
"Not yet." I roll her beneath me, settling between her thighs. "Got a little time first."
"Shadow—"
I cut her off with another kiss, this one harder, more demanding.
My hand finds her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it peaks.
"Been wanting you again since the second I woke up," I murmur against her mouth. "Couldn't stop thinking about how good you feel wrapped around me."
Grace's breath hitches. Her hands slide up my back, nails digging in slightly. "We really should—"
"Should what?" I kiss down her throat, pausing to bite gently at one of the marks I left. "Talk? Plan? Worry about your father?"
"Yes," she gasps as my hand slides between her legs, finding her already wet.
"Later." I slip two fingers inside her, watching her back arch. "Right now, I want you. Need you. And you need me too, don't you, darlin'?"
"Yes," she admits, her hips rolling against my hand. "God, yes."
"That's my good girl." I withdraw my fingers, position myself at her entrance. "Gonna take my time with you this morning. Make you feel so good you forget everything else."
I push inside slowly, inch by inch, watching her face as she stretches around me.
She's still tight despite how many times I've taken her, and the squeeze of her body around mine makes my vision blur.
"Fuck, Grace." I bottom out, buried as deep as I can go. "You feel perfect. So perfect for me."
She whimpers, her legs wrapping around my waist. "Move. Please."
"Patience." I hold still, letting her adjust, letting us both feel this. "Want to make this last."
I start moving—slow, deep strokes that make her gasp.
This is different. Intimate.
Taking my time to learn every sound she makes, every place that makes her shudder.
"So beautiful," I murmur, watching her face. "Look at you, spread out in my bed, taking everything I give you. This is how I want you. Every morning. Every night."
Grace's hands fist in the sheets. "Shadow—"
"You like that idea?" I pick up the pace slightly, my thumb finding her clit. "Waking up in my bed? Going to sleep with me inside you?"
"Yes," she moans.
"Good girl." I lean down to kiss her, swallowing her next cry. "Because I'm keeping you here. In my bed. In my house. Mine."
I can feel her getting close—the way her body tightens, her breathing goes ragged.
I adjust the angle, hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars.
"Come for me, darlin'. Let me feel it."
She breaks with my name on her lips, her body clenching around me so hard I nearly lose control.
But I hold on, working her through it, drawing out every wave of pleasure until she's shaking beneath me.
Then I let myself go.
I drive into her hard and deep, chasing my own release.
When it hits, it's with the now-familiar thought: mine, mine, mine.
I don't pull out. Never do.
The idea of my come inside her, marking her from the inside out, potentially putting a baby in her—it satisfies something primitive and possessive in me.
"Shadow," Grace breathes as I collapse beside her, pulling her against my chest. "That was—"
"Just the beginning." I press a kiss to her temple. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll do it again."
She laughs, the sound soft and sated. "You have to go talk to my dad."
Reality crashes back in.
Right. Phantom. The threat. The lies I'm about to tell.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "I do."
Grace tilts her head to look at me. "What are you going to say?"
"About the threat? Everything. About us?" I meet her eyes. "If it comes up."
Fear flickers across her face. "He's going to lose his mind."
"Probably." I cup her cheek. "But we'll deal with it."
She nods, but I can see the worry in her eyes.
"Hey." I make her look at me. "I'm not giving you up. Not for your father. Not for anyone. You understand?"
"I know." She kisses me softly. "I trust you."
Those three words hit harder than they should.
She trusts me.
And I'm about to walk into her father's office and lie through my teeth.
An hour later, I'm on my bike heading toward the main house when my phone buzzes.
Phantom:
My office. Now.
My stomach drops. Does he know? Did someone tell him?
I pull up to the main house and kill the engine.
The ranch is already busy—prospects mucking stalls, hands working horses in the round pen, the usual morning activity.
Dakota's on the porch as I climb the steps, leaning against the railing with a cup of coffee.
"Morning, Shadow," she says, her eyes curious. "Dad's looking for you."
"Yeah. Got the message."
She studies me for a moment. "Everything okay?"
"Fine." I keep my expression neutral. "Just club business."
She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push. "Good luck."
I head inside, my boots heavy on the hardwood.
The main house is familiar territory—I've been here hundreds of times for Sunday dinners, club meetings, and ranch business.
But today it feels different.
Today I'm walking in as the man who's been sleeping with Phantom's daughter.
His office is at the end of the hall, door closed.
I knock twice.
"Come in."
I push the door open and step inside.
Phantom's office is exactly what you'd expect from a man who runs both a massive ranch and an MC.
The big oak desk is covered in paperwork, everything from cattle records to club finances.
The walls are lined with photos: Grace, Shiver, and Dakota at various ages, the ranch through the decades, Phantom's grandfather who founded the original club.
A shotgun is mounted above the door. A reminder.
Phantom himself sits behind the desk, looking every inch the Prez.
At fifty-something, he's still a force—broad-shouldered, hard-faced, the kind of man who commands respect just by existing.
He's also Grace's father.
The man I've been lying to for days.
"Close the door," Phantom says. "Sit."
I obey, settling into the chair across from his desk.
My enforcer training kicks in—neutral expression, steady breathing, calm.
Like I'm here for routine business and not about to navigate a minefield.
Phantom studies me for a long moment, and I wonder if he can see the guilt written on my face.
Finally, he speaks. "Heard something yesterday. About a vehicle following Grace. Dark truck, out of state plates. You know anything about that?"
Relief and tension war in my chest. He's asking about the threat. Not about me and Grace.
Yet.
"Yeah," I say. "I've been looking into it."
Phantom's eyes narrow. "How long you known about this?"
"Couple days. Saw the truck watching her clinic. Had Rogue run the plates."
"And?"
I meet his eyes. "Copperhead Kings MC. Houston chapter."
Phantom goes very, very still. "I'll be damned."
He stands, starts pacing behind his desk.
I can see the wheels turning, the pieces clicking into place. "Bronco's family club," he says quietly.
"Yes."
Phantom's hands clench into fists. "What else?"
"There have been notes. Two so far." I pull out my phone, show him photos of both. "Paid for but never delivered. Time to collect.' Second one gave a deadline. Three days to return what was stolen or they take what they're owed."
Phantom stares at the photos, his jaw working.
"They want Grace," I say, keeping my voice level. "They paid four million for her years ago. Bronco died before the wedding. I think they believe she still owes them. That the deal didn't die with him."
Phantom slams his hand on the desk.
The sound cracks through the office like a gunshot.
"Four million isn't enough," he says, his voice rough with fury. "Four million isn't enough for what that bastard did to my little girl."
I go still.
Phantom looks at me, his eyes haunted. "You know what he did to her?"
I nod slowly. "Yeah, I found out years ago. Asked me to keep the secret."
Phantom's jaw ticks. "And you did. Kept it even from me."
"Wasn't my secret to tell, Prez."
He sinks back into his chair, suddenly looking older. Tired. "I didn't find out until years later. Grace finally told me. Took her that long to say it out loud."
My chest tightens.
I knew Grace had told her father eventually, but hearing the weight in his voice—the guilt, the pain—makes it real in a way it wasn't before.
"I arranged that marriage," Phantom continues, his voice cracking slightly. "Handed her to that monster for ranch security and four million dollars. And I didn't even know what I'd done until years later."
"You didn't know what kind of man Bronco was," I say quietly.
Phantom's laugh is bitter. "That's the problem. I should have. Should've vetted him better. Should've protected her. Instead I sold my daughter and she paid the price."
The silence stretches between us.