"They know I'm here," I say, my voice cracking. "That brick... Logan, they targeted the club because of me. I’m bringing war to your doorstep."
His grip tightens, his fingers digging in until I gasp. "The war was always there, darlin'. You just gave me something worth fighting for."
He looks up at me, his eyes burning with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs. More than attraction or lust, this is an obsession so deep it has roots in the bedrock of this mountain.
"I should go," I whisper, the words tasting like ash. "If I leave, they’ll stop. I can go back to the city, and?—"
"No."
The word hits me hard. He stands up, hauling me with him as if I weigh nothing. My feet dangle for a second before he presses me back against the rough log wall, his body pinning mine. The size difference overwhelms me; the top of my head barely clears hischest. I have to tilt my neck back to look him in the eye, exposing my throat to him.
"You don't get to leave," he growls, leaning down until his nose brushes mine. "You think this is a game? You think I marked you, claimed you, put my patch on your back just to let you drive away because some coward threw a brick?"
"I don't want you to get hurt because of me!" I cry out, pushing against his rock-hard chest. It’s like pushing against a granite cliff. "I’m a travel blogger, Logan! I take pictures of sunsets and coffee shops. I don’t belong in a war zone!"
"You belong where I put you," he snarls, capturing my wrists in one hand and pinning them above my head against the wood. "And I put you here. In my house. In my bed. In my blood."
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. His beard scratches my sensitive skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My body betrays me instantly, softening, melting against his hardness. I feel the ridge of his erection pressing against my stomach through our clothes, thick and demanding.
"You are not a tourist anymore, Savannah," he murmurs against my pulse point, his lips grazing the skin. "Tourists leave. You are mine. You are the air in my lungs. If you leave, I suffocate. Do you understand? You are killing me if you walk out that door."
The confession is raw, torn from a place he keeps hidden behind the armor of the MC President.
"I'm scared," I admit, the fight draining out of me.
"Good," he says, biting lightly at the cord of my neck. "Fear keeps you sharp. But you don’t need to be scared of them. You let mehandle the monsters. Your only job is to be here for me when I come back."
He pulls back, his dark eyes searching mine. "I need you, Savannah. I have spent thirty-five years on this mountain, running this club, keeping the peace, breaking bones. It’s noise. All of it. Just noise and blood." He brings his free hand up to cup my jaw, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "Then I saw you in that snowstorm. And for the first time in my life, the noise stopped. You are the only quiet thing I have ever known."
My heart stutters. Tears prick my eyes, blurring his harsh features. "Logan..."
"Say you’re staying," he demands, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Say it, or I will tie you to this bed until you understand that you don't have a choice."
"I'm staying," I breathe. "I'm staying, Logan."
The tension in his shoulders snaps. He crushes his mouth to mine, swallowing my gasp. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a branding. He dives in with a sweep of tongue, insisting on submission, tasting me like I’m the only meal he’ll ever eat again.
He doesn't let go. He holds me there, pinned against the rough logs, his heart hammering against my chest like a war drum. Slowly, the frantic energy bleeds out of him, replaced by a heavy, protective weight. He doesn't strip me. He doesn't take me to the rug. He just holds me, his large hand running down the curve of my spine.
"I meant what I said," he rumbles, his voice vibrating through my chest. "About the noise stopping."
I look up at him. His face is softer now, the hard lines around his eyes smoothed out by my surrender.
"I know," I whisper. "I felt it."
He reaches down and pulls theProperty of Presidentjacket tighter around me, covering me like armor.
"Tomorrow, Austin and Tristan are going to sweep the perimeter," he says, the business of the club creeping back into his tone, but lacking the panic from earlier. "Chase is running intel in town. We’ll find out who threw that brick."
"And then?" I ask.
His eyes darken, the predator returning. "And then I’m going to make sure they never have the ability to lift a brick again."
He kisses my forehead, a stark contrast to the violence in his words. "But tonight, you sleep. You sleep, and you let me watch the door."
I nestle into his chest, the steady thud of his heart beating against my ear. For the first time since I saw that shattered glass, the fear is gone. I realize then that I haven't just fallen in love with a man. I've fallen in love with a force of nature. And for some reason, the mountain has decided to love me back.
"Goodnight, Logan," I whisper.
