Butcher reached up slowly, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “Because you’re mine.” The words slipped out naturally—possessive and absolute. Judging by the way Princess’s breath caught, she felt it too.
Behind them, Wade whispered loudly, “Oh, they’re definitely getting married.” Butcher flipped him off without looking away from Princess once. The last thing he needed was for his asshole friend to scare her off, but the look in her eyes told him that she didn’t scare easily.
Butcher’s words hung in the air long after he said them. Because you’re mine. Butcher wasn’t even sure when that happened. Maybe the first night she looked at him like he was something safe instead of something dangerous. Or maybe when she laughed at Wade’s stupid jokes in his kitchen. But when he realized he’d burn this entire goddamn town to the ground before letting anybody drag her back to Chicago, she became his. It didn’t matter when it happened now, because it was true, and judging by the expression on Princess’s face, she knew it too.
The garage suddenly felt too crowded—too full of people watching them like they’d just witnessed something important. Which they probably had. Princess stared up at him with wide dark eyes, her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get there. Christ. Butcher wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to drag her into his arms and reassure himself that she was still there with him—safe. Instead, he forced himself to step back slightly before he did something reckless in front of half the future club.
Wade ruined the moment anyway. “So,” he drawled loudly, “are we fighting the mob before or after dinner?” Trigger barked out a laugh, and the rest of the guys looked deeply entertained.
Butcher rubbed a hand over his face. “This is why nobody likes you, Wade.”
“That’s fair,” Wade admitted cheerfully. Princess finally laughed softly beside him, though tension still lingered beneath it. Butcher noticed that she was scared, but trying not to show it. That protective instinct inside him sharpened immediately again. He was done letting fear live in her eyes.
“Everybody out,” Butcher muttered.
Wade frowned dramatically. “But I live for drama.”
“Out!” Butcher shouted. The men grumbled, but one by one they started heading toward the front of the garage.
Wade stopped beside Butcher long enough to murmur, “You did good, Prez.”
Butcher exhaled slowly and watched as the garage finally emptied, leaving just him and Princess standing in the silence afterward. She looked at him carefully. “You really told them you’d start a club for me.”
Butcher leaned back against the workbench behind him. “I told you, I can’t fight your father alone. I needed backup.”
“That’s not the whole reason, though, is it?” she asked. No, it wasn’t. The problem was, he didn’t fully understand the rest ofthe reason himself yet. It was like something had started waking back up inside him lately. He felt like he had a purpose now that he had found brotherhood with his new club. He felt the need to belong somewhere again.
Princess stepped closer slowly. “You missed it,” she said quietly.
Butcher’s jaw flexed. “The club life?” he asked.
“The family,” she corrected. She was right. Savage Hell hadn’t just been a clubhouse, it had been home—until it wasn’t.
Butcher looked away briefly, staring toward the open garage bay. “I spent ten years pretending I didn’t miss or need a club.”
Princess’s voice softened. “But now?”
Butcher looked back at her slowly. “Now I’m tired of pretending.” Silence stretched between them as Princess moved closer until she stood directly in front of him, her fingers lightly hooking into the belt loop of his jeans. That tiny touch nearly wrecked him.
“You know,” she murmured, “you’re kind of terrifying when you go all biker alpha.” Butcher huffed out a rough laugh.
“Kind of,” he growled.
She held up her fingers, pinching them together as she smiled at him. “Yeah, just a smidge.” Her lips twitched. God, he loved it when she smiled. That realization slammed into him unexpectedly hard. Loved. That was a dangerous damn word. Besides, it was too soon for him to be thinking about love and everything that went along with it.
Butcher’s hand slid around her waist automatically, pulling her flush against him, and Princess melted into him instantly. It was as though she trusted him, and belonged in his arms, and Christ, maybe she did.
“You scared?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes lifted to his immediately. “Of you?” He nodded, and Princess studied him for a long second like she was trying todecide what her answer would be. She slowly shook her head. “No.” Her voice dropped softer. “I think that’s the problem.” He understood exactly what she meant. Fearing him would be easier for her. Fear created distance, but this thing between them didn’t include any fear. It was pure attachment and trust—the kind of dangerous emotional shit that ruined people when it got ripped away.
Butcher slid his hand into her hair gently, tilting her face up toward his. “You should probably be a little scared of me, Princess.”
She smiled faintly. “Too late.” Fuck. That tiny answer nearly brought him to his knees. Butcher kissed her hard before he could think better of it. Princess made a soft sound against his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck immediately, while weeks of tension and adrenaline and fear burned between them. He needed this. He needed her. Butcher wanted something good after ten years of empty silence.
He backed her against the workbench slowly, gripping her hips while kissing her deeper. Princess laughed breathlessly against his mouth. “This feels wildly inappropriate to be happening in a garage.”
“You complaining again?” he asked.
