Chapter 1

1

EMMA

I dream about that night quite often, when Macy stepped in front of me and was thrown to the ground. It replays over and over again—the sound of her head hitting the pavement, the smell of the dank, mildewy alleyway, and my screams echoing off the stone walls.

It doesn't matter that Macy recovered. It doesn't matter that she probably doesn't blame me for what happened. Because I blame myself. We were only sixteen, but I should have been braver, and maybe Macy wouldn't have had to move away. Maybe I wouldn't have lost her.

I'm not sleeping now, but the images and memories of that night are almost as vivid as if I was. Standing in the breezeway of Stonebridge University's library, clutching the straps of my backpack like two nylon lifelines, all I can see when I look out into the darkness is the horror of that alley. The gaslight street lamps and the emerald green grass of the concourse, even the few students milling about, aren't enough to settle my nerves. Logically I know I'm safe, but fear like the kind residing inside me doesn't follow logic.

How could I have been so stupid? I had everything planned out in my head—study until right before sunset, and then walk back to my dorm while there was still light outside. What I hadn't planned for was finding the perfect source for my essay and getting so distracted with it that I lost track of time. Which is why I'm standing here, the library about to close behind me, and the gathering darkness spreading out in front.

The shadows seem to be creeping toward me, ready to swallow me whole. The streetlights aren't nearly enough to keep them at bay, and every flicker or shift is a fresh jolt of dread. I could call for a cab or an Uber, I suppose, but there's no guarantee they could get to campus quickly, especially if they're busy on a Friday night. And the librarian isn't going to let me stand here forever.

So I have to walk. There's no helping it. With a deep breath, I push the glass doors open, and the cool night air rushes in to greet me.

Slowly, deliberately, I walk down the concrete library stairs to the sidewalk. It's a ten-minute walk to my dorm.

It's a ten-minute walk and you'll be fine.

With my shoulders hunched and my eyes focused straight ahead, I start down the sidewalk.

I try to stay aware of my surroundings, to hear and see anything approaching. But the wind picks up, rustling the leaves that have already fallen from the trees in early autumn and making the streetlights waver even more. My ears strain, picking out footsteps and any hint of danger.

By the time I'm halfway there, I'm a tightly wound ball of anxiety. I can feel my heart pounding against my ribcage like a jackhammer, and my inhalations are shallow and quick.

I stop to catch my breath, pressing a hand to my chest and closing my eyes. My knees are trembling, and I'm afraid I might collapse. The feeling of vulnerability is overwhelming, like I'm a mouse trapped out in the open.

I need something—someone—to help me feel safe. Even for just a moment, even if it's irrational. Swallowing hard, I look around for any sort of business to step into for a respite. There's nothing, though. At least not on this stretch of campus.

My salvation is totally unexpected. When I turn the next corner, I expect another empty street, the old stone buildings dark for the evening now that class is done. Instead, there's a small grouping of motorcycles, parked in the side lot of a bar. I squint, barely able to make out the lettering on a few of the bikes—Iron Guardians. I've heard of them. They're the motorcycle club that serves as protectors in the local community. Their reputation is solid, and they've done a lot for Stonebridge.

Before I can think better of it, I find myself walking toward the bikes. They are all immaculately maintained, with silver shields painted on them, but one bike in particular catches my eye. It's big and imposing, made of sleek black metal and chrome, but this one has a gold shield, and the black paint is shot through with hints of turquoise when the streetlamp light hits it just right. Instinctively, I reach out and touch it, running my fingers along the handlebars. The metal is cold beneath my fingertips, but somehow the sensation is calming, grounding.

"Like what you see?" a low voice rumbles.

Startled, I jump back, my heart racing. A tall man steps out of the shadows, moving closer to me but not totally into the light. Panic rears its ugly head, making me press a hand over my pounding heart and stumble until I bump into the bike. Then it registers that he's wearing a jacket, emblazoned with the same gold shield as the bike behind me, and I relax a few degrees.

He's an Iron Guardian. He's safe , I feel it in my bones. Even if I can't make out any of his features just yet.

The man is dressed all in black, his muscular frame accentuated by his leather jacket and the matching vest beneath. His dark hair is cropped short, longer on top, and I have the distinct feeling his eyes are fixed on me.

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I didn't mean to touch your bike."

"It's okay," he replies, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. "You like it?"

I nod, nervously twisting my hands. "Yeah. It's...it's very nice. But I don't know anything about motorcycles."

He takes a step closer, still in shadow, but I can make out more of his face now. "Safe to say you don't ride, then."

"Oh, no," I say, shaking my head. My cheeks are burning, and I can't seem to tear my eyes away from him. An insane part of my brain whispers, ‘ You don't ride motorcycles, but you wouldn't mind riding him!' It's so inappropriate that I almost laugh out loud. Instead, I give him a much more socially acceptable reason for poking at his bike. "I wandered over to look at them because I needed a moment, that's all."

"A moment?" he echoes, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Yes. Um..." I'm totally thrown off by this unexpected interaction, but after a second, I finally find my words. "I'm sorry, this is going to sound crazy, but … could you walk me home? That's an Iron Guardian thing, right? Protecting scared women?" I try to imbue some humor into my words, but they're totally true.

He blinks at me, surprised. "Walk you home?"

"Please?" I whisper. I shouldn't be admitting these things to a complete stranger, but he doesn't feel like a stranger at all. "I needed a moment because I'm scared of walking home in the dark. I know it's silly, but?—"

Something seems to soften in his expression. "No need to explain. Of course, I will. Where do you live?"

I point up the hill, to the cluster of buildings in the distance. "Student housing."

"Ah, that explains the bookbag then." He comes closer, and I can smell his scent—leather and pine. It's comforting, somehow. "A college student, huh? How old are you, little bunny?"

I balk at the nickname. It's not like I need a reminder that I'm a coward. "First off, that isn't very nice. Second, I'm 20."

The man chuckles, clearly amused with himself as he approaches me. "Nice is overrated."

When the man finally steps into the light and I look up at him—way up, he has to be at least 6'4—I can see him fully for the first time. The sight of him hits me like a truck. He's devastatingly handsome, with chiseled features, piercing blue eyes, and a body that is packed with muscle. He has a short, well-kept dark beard, and an old white scar cutting through his left eyebrow. There's a bump in the bridge of his nose, telling me it's been broken before, but that just adds to the whole picture. Darkness and desire, all wrapped into one tall, muscular package.

It's not just how hot he is that has me shaken, though. It's also the visceral, instinctual reaction I'm having.

There's an electricity between us, an intense spark that I've never felt before. Under the thin cotton of my shirt, my nipples harden, and there's an unfamiliar aching between my legs. Every fiber of my being is screaming that this man is meant to be mine, and even as terrified as I am, I feel safe with him. It's illogical, it makes no sense, and I don't know what to make of it, but it's the truth.

The man makes a strangled noise in his throat that morphs into something like a growl, but then the sound of his voice pulls me back into the moment. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," I lie, shaking my head. Nothing is wrong , per se, but something is happening. That's for damn sure. "Sorry, I just spaced out for a minute there."

"I'm Luke," he says, extending a hand. Cautiously, not sure what will happen when I touch his skin considering how much just his appearance shook me, I reach out to shake his offered hand.

When our skin brushes against each other, I'm immediately aware of the flash fire of need that travels between us, a sizzling heat that spreads throughout my entire body. For a moment, I can't breathe. It's so intense, I'm almost dizzy, and when I look into Luke's eyes, I'm startled to see his pupils dilated and his breathing a little uneven.

"Emma," I manage to choke out, and he nods, withdrawing his hand. "I'm Emma."

"Well, Emma, shall we?" He gestures forward with his free hand, seeming reluctant to let go of me. "I'm happy to walk you home."

"Thank you." I'm positive that Luke will scare away any dangers. Hell, I think even the shadows might be scared of him. So I'm safe from everything, except my suddenly unignorable attraction. When Luke finally lets my hand fall away, I'm afraid my impulse control might fail me. I want him to keep touching me. Anywhere. Everywhere.

"So, you study at Stonebridge?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"That's right," I reply, glancing up at him. "I'm majoring in English literature. And you're part of the Iron Guardians?"

"Correct." He laughs, rough and low. "Actually, I'm the leader."

"Oh." I'm taken aback by this. Am I out of line for asking such a high-ranking member of the club to walk me home? "I hope I'm not taking up too much of your time."

"Nah." He shakes his head. "I've always got time for a pretty girl."

I take a second and think over what I know about the Iron Guardians. They're tough, very serious about what they find important, and intimidating as hell. I'm not from Stonebridge—my mother and I lived in Chicago where I grew up before I moved to North Carolina for college—but the Iron Guardians are well-known enough for me to have heard about them around town. They're punishing to people they view as enemies and unwavering in their protection of the weak and vulnerable. Everyone around here seems glad to have them, but I've heard rumors of how violent they can be when the situation calls for it. I'm definitely intimidated but also strangely intrigued by Luke.

"Are you sure you want me walking you home?" he asks, one eyebrow arched, and a slight grin tugging at his lips. "I could send a couple of the younger guys. Or do you like your knights in shining armor older and rougher around the edges?"

"I'm not a knight in shining armor kind of girl," I confess.

"No?" he teases.

"No."

"But you needed an escort?"

"I needed … something." I needed you.

We walk along for a few moments in silence until I finally manage to choke out the words. "It was stupid of me to come outside so late."

"Don't be hard on yourself," Luke replies, his deep voice soothing. "Plenty of people lose track of time." I can feel his eyes on me, looking at me closer. "Stonebridge is a safe place. We make sure of that. But the world is never perfectly safe for women. I'm more than happy to do this, Emma."

I nod gratefully, taking a deep breath and trying to calm my nerves. "I'm probably oversharing, but … my friend and I were attacked by a thief when I was a teenager when we were walking late at night and I've never really recovered mentally."

Luke's nostrils flare. "That shit is exactly why we exist." He bumps me, ever so slightly, with his shoulder. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

We continue walking, the shadows closing in around us. But I'm not scared. Not with Luke here. His presence is reassuring, and I can tell he's vigilant. If anything happens, he won't hesitate to protect me.

Finally, we reach the door to my dorm, the warm lights and the sounds of students inside welcoming me home.

"This is my stop," I say, turning to face Luke. Now that we're in a well-lit area, he stands out like a sore thumb among all the people my age. A sexy, rough thumb. Something pulls deep in my stomach when I meet his eyes and see the barely-stoked embers burning in them. Heat … for me?

"Thanks again," I continue, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," he says, his deep voice sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. There's a hint of amusement in his tone, though, and I have the feeling he's laughing at me.

"Seriously," I insist. "I mean it."

"I know." His expression softens. "I'm happy to help, Emma."

Hearing him say my name sends another delicious thrill through me. It's like his voice is directly linked to my nervous system, and every word he speaks sets off a chain reaction of sensations.

"Well, see you around, maybe…?" I fumble for the doorknob, flustered and confused by the intensity of my reaction to him.

"Yes, Emma. I'll see you around," he replies, nodding once and then turning to walk away.

As I watch him go, I can't help but admire his tall, powerful frame, the way his broad shoulders fill out his leather jacket, and the confident swagger in his stride. My heart is pounding, and there's a fluttering sensation deep in my stomach. I've never felt this way before, like my whole body is humming with electricity and my senses are on high alert.

What is wrong with me? It's like he has some kind of magical hold on me, and I can't resist his pull.

Just as I'm about to turn and walk inside, Luke stops and glances back over his shoulder. Our eyes meet, and the air is suddenly thick with tension. His gaze is intense, full of heat and desire, and I can feel my cheeks burning under his stare.

And then, as quickly as it came, the moment is gone. Luke gives me a small, subtle nod before continuing on his way. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

My phone buzzes, and I jump. Fumbling it out of my pocket, I see a text from my roommate, Sarah, asking where I am. I quickly type back a response, letting her know I'll be inside soon, and take a deep breath to steady myself.

It's like Luke has cast some kind of spell over me, and I don't know how to break free. All I can think about is him—his deep, soothing voice, his powerful presence, the way my heart races when he looks at me. And the electricity that crackles between us, so potent and all-consuming, feels like a living thing, a force of nature that can't be denied.

What is happening to me? I met him like ten minutes ago!

I hurry inside, and Sarah is waiting for me in our small apartment, looking worried. We lucked out and got one of the two-bedroom dorms, giving us at least a little bit of privacy.

"Where have you been?" she demands, getting up and fussing over me as I close the door. "I was worried sick! You're never out after dark!"

"I'm sorry," I say, shrugging my backpack off my shoulders. "I was studying in the library and lost track of time."

Sarah studies me closely. "Are you okay? You look a little flustered."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dropping my things by the door, I make my way inside. Soon enough, I'm sinking onto the old couch in the living room and sighing, trying to shake the strange sensations I felt when Luke and I touched. "It's just been a long night."

Sarah sits down next to me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I just had the craziest thing happen," I tell her. "I was walking back here alone after dark, and then I met this guy, and he offered to walk me home. Well, I asked, and then he offered … but still."

"Wait, what?" Sarah raises an eyebrow. "Why would you ask a random man to walk with you? Was it one of those frat guys who are always hitting on girls on campus? They're so gross."

"No, he wasn't a student," I say, shaking my head. "He's a biker."

Sarah gasps. "A biker? Are you serious? Like … motorcycle type of bike, right? Or the Tour de France?"

"The former, obviously," I reply with a small smile. "He was...um." The fact that Luke's bike club is all grown men years older than my roommate and me hits me, and suddenly I'm sheepish, afraid of her judgment. "He was an Iron Guardian."

"Whoa." Sarah's eyes go wide. "The motorcycle club?"

I nod.

"Isn't he a little old for you, then?"

"What? No." I shake my head quickly. "It's not like that, I promise. Plus, I didn't even ask his age."

"Okay." She still sounds skeptical. "So what happened? What was he doing, hanging out on campus waiting for single women to walk by?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I was a little less than halfway home when I saw all of their motorcycles. I knew about the club, so I felt safe asking him. That's all."

"Well, that's pretty chivalrous of him," Sarah concedes, sounding less concerned. "Was he, like, a gross, middle-aged biker dude? Or more of a hot, rugged bad boy type?"

"Hot," I reply immediately. "Like, smoking hot. But not in a sleazy way."

"So, more of a James Dean vibe, then?"

"Definitely," I agree. "Although he was way more intense than James Dean. Like, a hundred times more intense."

"Wow." Sarah raises her eyebrows. "This sounds like a pretty epic story. Tell me more."

So, I recount the whole encounter to her, starting from the moment I stepped outside the library and ending with Luke walking me to the front door of my building. When I say it all out loud, it sounds way more boring than it felt. All I did was walk with a guy and talk with him a little. Nothing more.

"Sorry, that was lame," I finish, and Sarah shakes her head.

"No way. If you say it was a big deal, I totally believe you. Sounds like he was really looking out for you."

"Yeah, he was," I say, still a little overwhelmed by the whole experience. "It was kind of nice, actually. To have someone there to protect me, I mean."

"Hey, it's okay to need help sometimes," Sarah reassures me. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know." I take a deep breath. "I guess I'm just not used to it. After everything that happened with Jason, I swore I'd never rely on a guy again. And then tonight..."

"Tonight was different," Sarah finishes. "This Luke guy wasn't trying to control you or take advantage of you. He was just looking out for you, right? That's the Iron Guardian's thing, anyway. Protecting those who need protection."

"Exactly." I nod. "It felt good, in a way, to know that I could trust him even though we just met."

"Sometimes you can just tell when someone's a decent person," Sarah says, echoing my own thoughts. "And sometimes they wear the evidence on their biker jackets, I guess. Sounds like Luke hits both criteria though, hm?"

"Yeah." I sigh, a small, wistful smile tugging at my lips. "He really does."

"So, what are you gonna do now?" Sarah asks, nudging my shoulder. "Are you gonna see him again?"

"I don't know," I say, feeling a little embarrassed. "I mean, he's probably not interested in me like that. And even if he is, I doubt he wants to be tied down to a college girl."

"Are you kidding?" Sarah laughs. "Emma, that guy was totally into you! All the teasing, the backward glances. You should at least try to find out if there's something there."

"Maybe," I concede, my heart fluttering at the thought of seeing Luke again. "I guess I could ask around, see if anyone knows him."

"That's the spirit!" Sarah grins. "I'm sure there's a way to track him down, especially with the whole Iron Guardians club thing. That has to be pretty easy to research."

I nod. "Yeah, you're right." I glance at the clock and sigh. "But it's late, and I have an early class tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep."

"Okay." Sarah gives me a quick hug. "Good night, Emma. And good luck with your search for your big bad biker."

"Thanks." I laugh. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

"I'm sure things will work out. You have a knack for finding the good in people."