9. Sage

My legs ache, and my hands are going numb from riding my bike for hours. But at least the past week has given me some time to think.

There's nothing like being on the road to allow some space for the mind to find some clarity. Not that it helps when reality keeps slamming between my temples.

I fucked up.

Well—I fucked Lyla.

It's something I've considered more these past few months than I was willing to admit to myself, but I thought I was strong enough to not give in.

Patience. Control.

I internally preached it.

Her father is my club's president.

But like Lyla does, she breaks my resistance with one look. With one brush of her skin. With the feel of her lips.

She makes me so fucking stupid.

Like Kane is going to kill me if he finds out what happened stupid.

Kissing her is one thing. Fucking her is asking to have my dick chopped off and hung on the clubhouse wall as a warning to all the other members to stay the fuck away from his daughter.

So why can't I regret it?

Why don't I want to take it back?

Being a twenty-one-year-old virgin wasn't something I advertised, even though I wasn't ashamed of it. I didn't have a problem getting off or finding company if I was lonely. Just because I haven't fucked anyone doesn't mean I haven't done anything. But every time I considered taking it further something stopped me.

Lyla stopped me.

Even if I didn't quite realize it.

Maybe the guys at the club are right. It's the fortunes and horoscopes.

She calls it destiny, but I think it's just the magical way she embeds herself under my skin. No one was worth giving myself to unless it was her.

Another woman couldn't fill the gap. Wouldn't feel right.

Now all I feel is Lyla.

The way her nails dug into my back and her legs wrapped around my hips. The way she shook and squeezed me so tight I thought I was going to black out. I can't believe I didn't come on the first thrust. But I wasn't ready to let go of the moment, so I held onto it as long as I possibly could.

Fucking her.

Feeling her.

Needing her.

There's no more avoiding this now that I've jumped off the cliff. And if it means laying in the gravel while Kane runs me over with his bike to make an example of what happens to anyone who touches his daughter, then I guess so be it.

Kane's respected me for my role in the club and for my father being his VP. But I'm going to find out just how far his grace goes. He's not a merciless man, and this is going to test his limits.

Doesn't matter.

There's only so long I can keep the secret. Nothing stays buried when you're a Twisted King. It's in my best interest to be a man and face the music.

For Lyla, I need to come clean.

Hopping off my bike, I kick my legs out to send blood rushing back through them. I flex my fingers and wait for the vibrations from the long ride to subdue. The rest of the club made their way back to the clubhouse, but I took a detour to Twisted Roses to catch up with Jude.

Walking up to the shop, the Twisted Roses sign is blinking. It needs to be replaced, along with so many other things here. The shop is falling apart lately because Blaze cares more about the club than his business.

And even if I get it, at some point, we're going to need to do something, or we'll start losing clients.

Stepping into the shop, the sterile bleach scent drags me back home. While I thought I was born to be a biker, when I started to tattoo, I thought maybe I was actually born for more. So as long as the club allows me to maintain both, it's the ideal scenario.

The club is family—and the place I've belonged because of my dad. But tattooing is mine. It's something that belongs to me outside of the club.

"You're back." Jude looks up from the display case where he's placing a few barbells.

He's a killer artist, but he's been happier piercing people lately. So while I've still been working with him on occasion, he spends most of his time with Rachel, learning the trade and starting a metal collection of his own.

I have no idea why any guy would want to punch a ladder of barbells through his manhood, but whatever makes him happy, I guess. It's not like Jude seems all that interested in using his dick for anything else anyway. Whatever happened before I met him fucked him up good. It's rare to see him talking to a chick.

"Yeah, finally." I straighten my cut and rake my hair back, needing a shower and a full week of sleep. "Long fucking run."

"What was that? A week?"

"Yeah."

Jude looks me over. "Well, shit's good here if you want to head out and get some sleep."

"I'm fine." I drop down onto the couch in the lobby and stretch my arms out. "Did anything eventful happen while I was gone?"

"I mean…" He smirks. "Depends."

"On what?" My body tenses.

As freeing as it is being out on the road, I don't like leaving everything behind and wondering if shit's falling apart while I'm gone. Especially when Lyla is back here.

Jude shrugs. "It depends on what you consider eventful."

He's fucking with me, which means whatever he's not saying is going to get under my skin.

"What happened?"

"Your friend dropped in a couple of times. Black hair. Purple eyes. Big fucking smile that says you probably did something Kane's going to chop your nuts off for."

Fuck. "She did?"

Jude nods. "So you're not even going to try to deny it?"

There's no point. Jude's the closest thing to a friend I've got outside the club. And he's not an idiot. The fact that my face probably tensed when he mentioned Lyla gave me away already.

"No." I tip my head back and rake my hands through my hair. "Shit was easier when I was on the road."

"I bet." Jude shakes his head. "Because if she starts looking at you like that in front of Kane, you've got much bigger problems. Not to mention that look on your face the second I brought her up. You've got it fucking bad for that girl, don't you?"

"Yeah." And it's been fucking with my head for the past week, figuring out what to do with it. "I'll figure it out."

"And I'll be on standby to drive your ass to the hospital."

"Funny." But I don't laugh, even as Jude smirks at me when I lift myself off the couch.

"I'm heading out. But I'll be in tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

Turning to the door, I step back out onto the street. The heartbeat of LA is throbbing and the club next door to Twisted Roses is loud as always. I close my eyes and tip my head back, taking a deep breath.

Shit's changed, there's no pretending it hasn't. But I don't know what I'm going to do about it.