We hold each other for long moments, the steam curling around our bodies as our souls become one. For the first time in my life, the beast in my chest is quiet. I’m home.
8
MELODIE
The kitchen island is covered in scraps of vibrant specialty paper—teals, magentas, and shimmering golds. It’s a far cry from the yellow legal pads I started with. Around me, the house is full of the kind of noise I used to fear but now crave: the rhythmic thumping of heavy boots, the low rumble of motorcycles in the distance, and the bright, sharp laughter of the women who have supported my journey every step of the way.
“I’m telling you, Mel, this one looks like it’s about to fly away,” Lynx says, leaning over to inspect a delicate paper crane I’ve just finished. As the President’s woman, Lynx has a way of commanding a room just by standing in it, but her eyes are nothing but kind.
“It’s just a hobby,” I murmur, my cheeks heating up. I smooth a crease with my thumbnail. “But… the coordinator at the community center asked if I’d be interested in a Saturday morning slot. For an intro to origami class. For the local kids and some seniors.”
The room goes silent for a heartbeat. Mika drops the piece of toast she was nibbling on, and Athena’s jaw actually drops.
“Melodie!” Mika squeals, reaching across the counter to squeeze my hand. “That’s incredible! You’re going to be a teacher?”
“I don’t know,” I say, ducking my head. Shyness still clings to me like a second skin sometimes. “I’m not very good at the talking part. What if I freeze up? What if they think my work is just… trash?”
Athena snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Honey, I’ve watched you turn a gum wrapper into a masterpiece while you were mid-panic attack. You’re a wizard. And if any of those seniors give you lip, you tell them who your old man is. Or better yet, tell them whoweare.”
“You’ve come so far, Mel,” Lynx adds, her voice softening into something truly maternal. “A few months ago, you were hiding in the shadows. Now you’re sharing your light. Don’t you dare let that spark go out because you’re nervous. You’re a Wicked Rider woman. We don’t do ‘shy’ when it comes to our dreams.”
The warmth in my chest has nothing to do with the tea in my mug. These women, my sisters, have built a fortress around me that no villain could ever breach.
The sound of the back door thudding open breaks the moment. The floorboards groan under a familiar, weighted stride. I don’t even have to look up to know the air in the room just got ten degrees hotter.
“Speak of the devil,” Mika teases, grabbing her purse. “The Beast is home, and he looks like he’s got a hunger only our Mel can fix.”
“Go easy on her, Rogue!” Athena calls out with a wicked wink as the three of them start heading toward the front door. “She’s going to be a famous art teacher, so don’t wear her out too much tonight!”
I’m mortified, my face turning the color of a cherry, but I can’t even find words to defend myself before Rogue enters the kitchen. He’s covered in a fine layer of road dust, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble, and his eyes are fixed on me with a terrifying, beautiful intensity.
He doesn't say hello to the girls. He doesn't even acknowledge their teasing. He just storms across the linoleum, his boots clicking like a countdown.
“Rogue, wait, the girls were just?—”
He doesn’t let me finish. His massive hands hook under my arms, and with a low, primal grunt, he hauls me off the barstool and up into his arms. I squeak, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he tucks me against his chest. He smells of leather, gasoline, and the cold outdoor air.
“Mine,” he growls into the crook of my neck, his stubble grazing my sensitive skin. “I could hear them cackling from the driveway. What were they bothering you about?”
“They weren't bothering me,” I breathe, my heart doing that frantic, happy dance it only does for him. I lean back to look at him, my hands framing his rugged face. “I told them about the art class. I’m scared, Rogue.”
He stills, his dark green eyes searching mine. The possessive fire in them doesn't fade, but it settles into something steady. “Scared? Why?”
“What if I’m not good enough?”
He walks me toward the bedroom, his grip tightening as if he could physically hold my doubts at bay. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to this town, Melodie. If they can’t see that, I’ll burn the center down and build you a better one.”
“Rogue!” I laugh, batting at his shoulder.
“I’m serious,” he says, his voice dropping to that gravelly register that vibrates right through me. He stops at the edge of the bed and looks at me like I’m the sun and the mooncombined. “You’re going to teach that class. And I’m going to be sitting in the front row, folding whatever tiny bird you tell me to fold. Got it?”
I press my forehead to his, the last of my anxiety melting away. “Got it.”
“Good,” he grunts, tossing me onto the mattress and following me down. “Now, quit talking about paper. I’ve been thinking about you for eighty miles, and I’m done waiting.”
I giggle and then shriek as my man tears off my clothes, followed by his. We tumble into bed together, unable to be apart for a second longer.
Rogue repositions us so he’s leaning against the headboard and I’m straddling his lap. His hands glide down my back, cupping my bare ass and pulling me closer, urging me to grind down on him with my soaking wet pussy.
