“Thesmug one,” she accused.
“Smug? ” he asked. “I wasn’t being smug, Kimi.”
“I don’t want anyone to catch us in here together,” she breathed, shoving back the blanket, but when she tried to stand, he reached out, catching her wrist—not to stop her, just a soft reflexive hold that froze her mid-motion. The contact felt as though it had burned her skin.
“Let go,” she said, but her voice had lost its edge between one breath and the next.
His thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist, not rough, not possessive—just a quiet reminder that the man was real, that all of this was. “You cold?” he murmured, his tone still dragged from sleep.
“No.” But her voice betrayed her, soft and uncertain.
“Then why’re you shaking?” he asked. She was shaking because part of her was furious, and another part wasn’t. Because the space between them was electric, and every inch of her skin suddenly remembered he’d been close enough to burn through her defenses.
Her hand came up before she could stop it—fingers brushing the stubble at his jaw. That was a mistake. His breath hitchedjust slightly. The rough warmth of him curled through her like an echo of the night before, and for a moment, all she wanted to do was trace that line of heat again. But then, she caught herself, drew in a sharp breath, and yanked her hand back.
“You need to leave,” she said, voice tight.
He nodded once. “Yeah.” But he didn’t move right away. His eyes held hers a heartbeat too long, unreadable, that same quiet storm that lived behind everything he said or didn’t say.
Finally, he stood and pulled on his cut, the fatigue still heavy on his shoulders. “You sleep all right?”
Kimi threw him a look sharp enough to cut steel. “You’re askingme that now?”
A faint, tired smirk tugged at his mouth. “You didn’t look terrified anymore, so I decided that now was a good time to ask. Could’ve been worse.”
“Keep talking, and it will be worse,” she threatened with no real heat.
He chuckled once under his breath and headed for the door. Before leaving, he paused with his hand on the handle. “Next time, lock your door, Kimi.”
“Next time, find your own damn bed,” she shot back. When the door closed and silence filled the room again, she collapsed back onto the mattress and pressed a pillow over her face. The scent of him lingered there—smoke and cold air, steadying and maddening all at once. She inhaled once and groaned into the fabric.
She should’ve screamed, thrown him out,done something. But she didn’t. And worse—now that he was gone, her bodymissedhis warmth.
Outside, she could hear the bikes rumbling to life again, the club waking with routine. But all she could think about was the brief, impossible peace of last night and the dangerous comfortof a man who accidentally slept in her bed and still managed to make it feel like she’d finally stopped running.
Gorgon
By the time dawn smudged the horizon, the frost had turned the yard into a mirror. Every sound carried his boot steps on the gravel, the metallic cough of an engine warming, and even the faint exhale of smoke from someone’s first cigarette. The world was too sharp for a man who had finally slept for the first time in days.
Gorgon’s hands wrapped around the chipped coffee mug more out of habit than any real need. The heat didn’t reach his bones, but nothing did lately. Buck sat across the table, scanning a list written in his hopeless scrawl, his finger tracing each line like the words might shift if he blinked.
“Fuel shipments are low,” Buck said without looking up, his voice gravel rough. “And Ty was supposed to patch the east fence last night, but didn’t. He says a coyote got into the generator shed—turns out the coyote was him falling asleep.” Gorgon didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile.
“Prez,” Buck said slowly. “You hearing me or you off somewhere else again?”
“I’m hearing you,” Gorgon said, though both of them knew it was a lie.
Buck studied him for a beat. “You look about half-dead. Want me to tell Trudi to bring up another pot of?—”
“No.” Gorgon’s tone left no room for argument.
Buck raised his brows but didn’t push. “Fine. You know, most people who haven’t slept in three days start seeing things. They start talking to shadows. You just look like a shadow decided to talk back.”
“Noted,” Gorgon growled.
Buck leaned on his elbows, lowering his voice. “Look, man. We all know something’s off. The guys feel it. It’s her, isn’t it?” Gorgon’s eyes lifted sharply, and Buck shrugged. “She’s not trying to stir things up, but she’s the center of it, and you keep orbiting her. The boys are starting to wonder what’s got you so quiet.”
Gorgon’s reply was slow and level. “You ever think it’s because I’m trying not to say something I can’t walk back from?”
