For a long time, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  Finally, he turned, his eyes dark, his face hard. “Then God help us both.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Werewolf

  The second I walked into church, I knew the wolves were circling.

  Every head turned.

  Prez sat at the head of the table with a cigar clamped between his teeth and his eyes hard as iron. Tremor lounged to his right with a smirk carved across his face like he’d been waiting for this moment.

  I took my seat and lit a cigarette.

  “Wolf,” Prez said, his voice slow, deliberate. “We got a problem.”

  I leaned back with my face blank. “Don’t we always?”

  Laughter rippled low around the table, but it didn’t soften the edge in the room.

  “This one’s the same one I told you about before,” Prez went on. “Demi Cross.”

  My jaw flexed.

  Tremor cut in. “Showing up at the garage. Acting like she owns the place. People notice when a civilian sticks around too long. Makes us look sloppy.”

  “Or compromised,” another brother added.

  The words landed heavy.

  All eyes shifted to me.

  I dragged slowly on my cigarette, exhaled the smoke, and let the silence stretch.

  “She’s not a problem,” I said finally.

  Tremor’s grin sharpened. “Not yet.”

  I leaned forward and planted my elbows on the table. “She’s mine. That means she’s under my protection. Anyone got a problem with that can take it up with me.”

  The room buzzed instantly. Some were surprised, some were amused, and some were angry.

  “You claiming her? For real?” Prez asked, voice flat.

  The weight of the words pressed down like a hammer. Claiming wasn’t casual. Claiming meant she was marked. Off-limits. Family.

  Claiming meant I was putting her life and mine on the same line.

  I met his gaze steadily. “Yeah. I’m claiming her.”

  The noise around the table rose, sharp and heated, until Prez lifted a hand and the room went quiet.

  His eyes bored into mine, sharp enough to cut. Then, slowly, he nodded.

  “Fine. She’s yours. But you keep her close. You keep her quiet. And if she becomes a liability, it’s your head.”

  My pulse hammered, but I didn’t flinch. “Understood.”

  The gavel slammed against the table and ended church.

  But as the brothers stood, Tremor lingered with his stare locked on me.

  When the room cleared, he leaned close with his teeth bared in something that wasn’t a smile.

  “You just signed both your names in blood.”

  Then he walked out with the echo of his warning and the weight of what I’d just done.

  The garage was buzzing when I rode up. Word traveled fast in a club. It had only been an hour since church, and word had spread like wildfire about me and Demi.

  Brothers looked at me differently now. Some with respect. Some with curiosity.

  And Demi.

  I wasn’t going to have to wait long to see what she thought about me publicly claiming her. She was sitting on the steps outside, waiting, with her arms wrapped around herself like she knew the world had just shifted under her feet.

  When she saw me, she stood. “Where were you?”

  I didn’t answer. Not yet.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the back lot, away from prying eyes.

  She didn’t resist.

  When we stopped, she yanked free. “What happened?”

  I met her gaze. “I claimed you.”

  Her breath caught, her eyes wide. “You what?”

  “I told them you’re mine. Which means nobody touches you. Nobody questions why you’re here. Nobody so much as looks at you sideways without answering to me.”

  Her lips parted, her chest heaving. “You, you just—”

  “Yeah, I did.” My voice was hard, final.

  Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

  Finally, she whispered, “So what does that make me?”

  The question twisted in my gut.

  What did it make her?

  To the club, it made her property. To outsiders, it made her a target.

  But to me?

  It made her the only thing that mattered.

  I stepped closer. “It makes you protected. It makes you untouchable. And it makes you mine.”

  Her breath hitched, and her eyes burned into mine.

  My hand twitched at my side, and I ached to reach for her. To drag her closer and to finish what we’d started in that office.

  But I didn’t.

  Because if I kissed her again, I wouldn’t stop. And if I didn’t stop, there’d be no coming back.

  Instead, I forced myself back a step and dragged air into my lungs like it might cool the fire clawing through me.

  “You’re in this now, Demi,” I said. “There’s no walking away. You wanted the truth? You’re going to get it. But it’s going to cost.”

  She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “Then I’ll pay it.”

  Goddamn woman.

  I should’ve been furious. I should’ve dragged her out of here, put her on a bus, sent her as far from this world as I could.

  Instead, all I could think about was the fire in her eyes. The steel in her spine. The way her lips had tasted under mine.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Demi

  Being claimed was supposed to make me safe.

  That’s what he’d said. That’s what I’d wanted to believe. But the second we stepped into the clubhouse, I knew it wasn’t that simple.

  Every pair of eyes followed me.

  Some smirked, like they were in on a joke I wasn’t. Some narrowed, sharp and suspicious. Some were calculating, already measuring what they could use me for.

  And the women—God, the women—looked at me like I’d just stolen something that belonged to them.

  Werewolf’s hand stayed at the small of my back, heavy and firm, guiding me through the chaos.

  Every time I felt his touch, I remembered the way he’d kissed me. The way he’d growled against my mouth. The way his body had pressed hard and hungry into mine.

  And every time I remembered, I burned hotter.

  We didn’t last ten minutes before I snapped.

  He’d pulled me into the back hallway, away from the noise, with his jaw clenched and his eyes sharp.

  “You stay close tonight,” he ordered. “You don’t talk to anyone you don’t want to. You don’t leave my side. You got that?”

  I crossed my arms and glared. “You don’t get to bark orders at me like I’m one of your prospects.”

  His eyes flashed. “You think this is a game, Demi? You think being mine means you get to strut around and pretend like none of this touches you? It touches you now. It could kill you now.”

  “Then why did you do it?” My voice cracked, raw. “Why claim me at all if it just paints a target on my back?”

  His jaw worked, his fists curling at his sides. “Because I didn’t have a choice.”

  The words hit like a fist.

  I stepped closer, fury and something hotter burning through me. “That’s bullshit. You always have a choice.”

  His breath came sharp, and his eyes locked on mine like a storm about to break. “Not with you.”

  The silence that followed was electric.

  Then his hand shot out, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me into the nearest room. The door slammed behind us, and suddenly my back was against the wall. His chest pressed to mine, and his breath was hot and rough against my ear.

  “You drive me insane,” he growled.

  “Good,” I whispered.

  His mouth crashed down on mine before the word was even gone.

  The kiss wasn’t gentle.

  I answered with everything I had: anger, hunger, grief, and need. My hands fisted in his cut, pulling him down harder, closer, deeper.

  “Wolf.” My voice broke into a moan when his mouth dragged down my throat. His teeth grazed my skin, and his lips sucked a mark I’d feel for days.

  “You’re mine,” he rasped against my neck. “Say it.”

  “I’m—” I gasped as his hand slid up under my shirt. His calloused fingers rough against my bare skin. “I’m yours.”

  The words tumbled out before I could stop them. And once they were out, I didn’t want to take them back.

  Because they were true.

  I was his.

  We tore our clothes away, piece by piece. We were urgent and yet clumsy, just wanting any barrier gone between us. My jacket hit the floor. His shirt was yanked over his head. My shirt ripped at the seam when he got impatient.

  “I need this,” he muttered against my mouth.

  My hands roamed his chest over the ink and muscle hard under my palms. My nails dug in when his mouth found my breast.

  “Wolf, oh, God—”

  He lifted me then. Hauled me up like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist, and my back slammed against the wall again. The impact rattled the picture frame beside us, but I didn’t care.

  All I cared about was him.

  His mouth. His hands. The way he held me like I belonged there. Like I’d always belonged there.

  He ground against me, hard and relentless. Every move made me gasp and ache.

  “I’ve wanted this,” he rasped, with his forehead pressed to mine. “Since the second you walked into my life. I’ve fucking wanted this.”

  “Then take it,” I whispered, with my nails digging into his shoulders. “Take me.”

  His growl was low and feral.

  And then he did.

  The first thrust stole my breath.

  Hot. Hard. Deep.

  My cry echoed in the small room. My hands clawed at his back as he filled me.

  Stretched me.

  Claimed me in the only way that mattered.

  “Mine,” he growled, the word punctuated with a sharp snap of his hips. “You’re mine.”

  “Yes,” I gasped. “Yours.”

  He kissed me again, messy and bruising.

  The world narrowed to just us. His body pounded into mine while my nails scraped down his skin. Our breath tangled.

  It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle.

  It was raw. It was brutal. It was everything we’d been holding back exploded all at once.

  And it was perfect.

  When my orgasm finally tore through me, I cried out. My body clenched tight around him, and it felt like I was flying.

  He followed with a roar as his hips drove hard, and his body shuddered as he buried himself deep. His claim sealed in every ragged thrust.

  For a long moment, we just clung to each other. Sweat-slick and shaking, while our breaths were ragged, and our bodies still joined.

  Then he pressed his forehead to mine. His voice was rough, almost broken.

  “There’s no going back now, Demi.”

  I cupped his face and forced him to look at me. My own voice was steady even through the tremble of aftershocks. “I don’t want to.”

  His eyes burned softer now. He kissed me again, slower this time, deeper, with a promise instead of a war.

  And in that kiss, I knew the truth.

  He wasn’t just claiming me for the club.

  He was claiming me for himself.

  And I was claiming him right back.

  Chapter Twenty

  Werewolf

  The sun hadn’t even fully risen, but the light was already spilling across her skin.

  Demi lay half on my chest, her hair fanned out over me like fire, and her arm curled against my ribs as if she thought I might slip away if she didn’t hold on.

  Christ.

  I’d meant to keep my distance. Meant to protect her by keeping that wall between us. But last night? Last night I’d burned that wall to the ground.

  And I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

  Not when she was curled into me like she belonged there. Not when my body still thrummed with the memory of her nails clawing down my back. Her voice crying my name, and her lips swollen from every brutal, desperate kiss.

  She was mine.

  And I was in deep trouble because of it.

  She stirred, soft against me, with a groan slipping from her lips as she blinked awake.

  For a moment, she just looked at me, her hair messy and lips parted. Then she smiled, slow and sleepy. It hit me like a punch.

  “Morning,” she whispered.

  I grunted. “You should be running the other way right now.”

  Her brow arched, and the corner of her mouth quirked. “That’s one hell of a good morning to you.”

  I growled low and tightened my arm around her. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know what you’re trying to say,” she corrected. “But you’re wrong.” Her fingers traced idle patterns over my chest. “I don’t want to run, Wolf. Not from you. Not from this.”

  My chest ached, my throat thick. “You don’t get it,” I said. “Last night… it wasn’t just sex. Not for me. It was a claim. And once a man like me claims a woman, there’s no walking back from it.”

  “Good,” she said simply.

  My head jerked toward her. “Good?”

  “Yes, good.” She shifted up and straddled me. Her hair fell around her face as she looked down at me like she could see every piece of me I kept locked away. “I don’t want to walk back. I don’t want to pretend this isn’t real. Because it is.”

  My hands gripped her hips tight enough to bruise. My pulse roared in my ears.

  “Demi…”

  “Yes?” she whispered, almost daring me.

  I couldn’t say it. Not yet. The words stuck in my throat. Too dangerous. Too final.

  Instead, I dragged her down, kissed her hard, and poured everything I couldn’t say into her mouth.

  She kissed me back just as fiercely, and for a while, nothing else mattered.

  The knock on the door shattered it.

  Sharp. Hard. Insistent.

  I froze. Demi tensed on top of me, her eyes wide.

  Another knock, louder this time. “Wolf. Open the fuck up.”

  Tremor.

  I swore under my breath. I shoved out of bed and dragged on my jeans and cut. Demi pulled the sheet up around her and watched me with wary eyes.

  “Stay quiet,” I ordered.

  She scowled. “Don’t tell me what—”

  “Demi.” My voice came out sharper than I meant, edged with fear I couldn’t hide. “Please. Just stay quiet.”

  Her lips pressed tight, but she nodded.

  I yanked the door open. Tremor stood there with his smirk razor-sharp, and his eyes flicked past me to the bed where Demi was visible through the dim light.

  “Well, well,” he drawled. “Guess claiming her wasn’t just talk.”

  My body blocked the doorway. “You got something to say, say it.”

  He leaned in, his grin humorless. “Word’s spreading, Wolf. You bringing her in like this, making her yours, it’s got people talking. Some don’t like it.”

  “Let ‘em talk,” I growled.

  His eyes glinted. “Just remember, when a man claims something in this life, he’s saying he’s willing to bleed for it. Willing to die for it. You ready for that?”

  I didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I am.”

  Tremor’s smirk widened, but there was still no humor in it. “Good. You better be.” He turned and walked away.

  I shut the door with my pulse jackhammering in my ear and my jaw tight.

  Demi sat up on the bed with the sheet clutched to her chest, and her eyes searched mine. “What did he mean?”

  I dragged a hand through my hair and swore under my breath. “It means the clock’s ticking. Means people are watching us closer than ever. And it means that from now on, if someone wants to come after me, they’ll come after you too.”

  Her face paled, but she didn’t look away. “Then let them.”

  My chest tightened. “You don’t understand—”

  “No, you don’t,” she snapped, fire flaring in her eyes. “I know what I’m risking, Wolf. I’ve known since the night I found you. And I don’t care. I’m not walking away.” Her voice cracked. “Not from you. Not from this. And not until I know the truth about Tyler.”

  The weight of her words hit hard.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, dragged her into my arms, and buried my face against her neck. “You’re going to get me killed, Demi.”

  She held me tighter, and her lips brushed my ear. “Then I guess we go down together.”

  My arms crushed her against me, and my body tried to tell her with everything I couldn’t say.

  Because she was right.

  There was no walking back now.

  She was mine.

  And I’d bleed before I let the world take her from me.

  That night, I kept watch from the window. A cigarette burned low between my fingers while she slept, tangled in the sheets behind me.

  Every sound in the clubhouse made my hand twitch toward the gun next to me.

  When I glanced back at her, soft, vulnerable, and beautiful in a way that made my chest ache, I knew I’d made my choice.

  The Broken Sons were my blood. My life. My code.

  But Demi Cross was my heart.

  And God help anyone who tried to take her from me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Demi

  I stretched as the sheet slipped over my skin, and I stared at the ceiling for a count of ten while memories rolled back in slow waves. His hands. His voice rough in my ear. The promise in the way he touched me.

  Claimed. It should’ve felt like a collar. Instead, it settled over me like a vow I’d asked for and refused to return.

  He wasn’t in the room. The shower hissed through the open bathroom door. A shadow moved behind the glass of a familiar outline that tugged heat into my cheeks before I could decide whether to be annoyed or thrilled that a silhouette knew every inch of my body.

  I found my shirt on the chair but opted to grab his hoodie. I dragged it on and it swallowed me. The sleeves fell past my knuckles, and the weight of it felt indecently intimate. The mirror caught me with my hair wrecked and my mouth still a little swollen from all his kisses.

 

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