Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Callum tugged me gently to my feet, and I followed, the weight of Ellen’s absence still pressing on my chest. The rest of the day passed in a blur. By the time we got back to his room, my head was heavy, and my nerves were frayed. But at least my belly was full of delicious food, and my heart was warmed by the welcome I’d received from everyone.
The door clicked softly behind us, and I kicked off my shoes before flopping onto the bed. I heard the low rumble of Callum locking the door, then his footsteps crossing the room. When I looked up, he was setting something down on the nightstand. My phone charger, which I hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed from my bag.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
He let out a quiet grunt and sat on the edge of the bed beside me, his weight barely shifting the mattress.
The silence stretched, thick but not uncomfortable. It was strange how being near Callum eased something inside me. Like the frayed ends of my nerves were slowly stitching back together just because he was close.
“I’ve never stayed somewhere like this before,” I said, my voice soft. “The clubhouse, I mean.”
He shrugged. “Most people haven’t.”
“I thought it would feel…chaotic. Uncomfortable, even.” I rolled onto my side so I could see his face better. “But it doesn’t.”
“No woman needs to worry when they’re here.” He stretched out next to me and interlaced our fingers. “Sure as fuck not you.”
I rolled partway toward him. “Because of you?”
“Yeah, baby.” He stroked his thumb against my palm. “It’s safe to say that.”
My breath caught, but before I could ask what that meant, he was moving. He turned toward me slowly, bracing one hand beside my hip and leaning in, giving me time to stop him if I wanted to. But I didn’t. I wanted this.
“Say no if you’re not ready after everything that happened today,” he murmured, his words a hot puff of air against my lips.
I shook my head, barely whispering, “Please.”
His mouth found mine in the next breath. He didn’t rush the kiss. Instead, he devoured me with slow, unrelenting heat, like he had all the time in the world.
His lips moved with purpose, coaxing instead of taking, until I was clinging to his shirt. The room faded. The ache in my chest, the worry in my gut, the fear I’d carried for days—they all fell away. There was only Callum, and the way he kissed me like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he’d ever admit.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing harder than before, I couldn’t stop myself from brushing my fingers over his scruffy jaw. His hand curled around the back of my neck, holding me in place.
We stayed like that for a long time, until he eventually broke the spell so we could get ready for bed. Where we just slept together…and nothing else happened. Unfortunately.
8
HAWK
Two nights. That’s all it had been.
Two long, excruciating nights of holding Gemma in my arms. Of wrapping myself around her like a fucking shield and breathing her in while she slept.
Every time Gemma curled into me, her soft breath warming my throat, her thighs brushing mine under the covers, I came closer to snapping. I’d kiss her good night, low and deep, just enough to taste the sweetness of her lips. But then I’d pull back, bury my hunger, and clamp down on every possessive, mating-driven instinct in my body that told me to take what was mine.
Not yet.
She wasn’t ready. And I wasn’t going to ruin the safest place she’d ever felt by losing control.
Then I’d press my lips on her forehead or temple. Gentle and reverent. Sometimes it felt like that tiny touch was the only thing tethering me to sanity.
But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
So instead, I worked.
Gemma was over at Blade and Elise’s place, doing newborn pictures of their little girl, Emily. She said it would help her feel grounded, and I trusted Blade to watch her six while I handled the backend—sorting through Deviant’s info dump, looking for anyone in Ellen’s life who pinged the radar.
I was in my room at the clubhouse, my back against the worn leather of the desk chair and my laptop open in front of me. Multiple files from Deviant filled the screen. Each one was a carefully built profile of someone Ellen had regular contact with before she vanished.
Deviant was a genius with code and data trails, but he was a machine. Cold, technical, thorough. I was the one who read between the lines. Who knew how to strip someone bare from words unsaid and patterns that didn’t make sense.
People were my specialty. I knew how to read them. How to spot patterns, inconsistencies. And predators. So I was building a different kind of map. Psychological. Behavioral. Emotional.