Chapter 12VoxRoseVox

Chapter 12

Vox

I'm in my bedroom, splayed on my bed, watching the ceiling for what feels like a good fuckin’ hour. Can’t remember the last time I stayed up waitin’ for a woman. As much as I try to accept the idea of moving away from her, I still can't picture it.

Fuck no .

I'm in a nightmare, running from the flames, and I can't get out without losing my girl.

Damn it, why did I have to get attached?

Putting my hands on my face, I groan loudly. I'm so fuckin' pissed. A few other guys of the club could have gone to Seattle to open the new warehouse and make a few visits to share the news of our arrival in town. But Ares chose me. His fuckin' loyal soldier, always ready to go to war for him. Always.

But not this time.

Not now that there's another reason for me to stay. Her gorgeous face flashes in my mind like a constant reminder of what my life could be.

How can I protect her when I'm on the other side of the country?

I won't be able to just watch her through my app. She's like a drug and I need a fix every single damn day or I know I'll lose it. Light footsteps come from the staircase, makin’ me fuckin’ smile despite today’s news.

My girl.

Barefoot as always.

I shake my head with a stupid smile on my face. Her tiny silhouette stops at my doorway, her cheeks flushed a charmin’ pink shade.

Damn it, why does she have to be this fuckin' adorable.

“Hey, you,” I say, raising myself to a sitting position on my bed.

“Hey,” she mouths, biting her lip with a light smile.

I'm surprised she came up here, and I think she is too from the blush rising in her cheeks. I like how daring she's being, stepping inside my house like she owns it. And I have nothin' to object to that statement.

She can fuckin' walk inside the bathroom while I shower and I would be the happiest bastard in the world.

I gawk at her, making her blush even more.

God, I love to torment her.

She's watching the place next to me with intensity, like she wants to join me but doesn't want to admit it.

“C’mon, come here, sweetheart,” I say, patting the place next to me.

Just wanna hold my girl after this shitty day and get what rough men like me can only have from sweet girls like her. Just a bit of solace before going back into the darkness.

Rose doesn't hesitate and jogs to the bed, spreading her beautiful body next to mine, her curves barely concealed under her awful long nightgown. She turns to face me and nestles herself in my arms, her face resting on my chest with one of her legs straddling one of mine. I don't know if she can feel my heart pounding like a racing horse under my ribs.

If that’s heaven, then I can’t fuckin’ wait.

I close my eyes, pretending for a second that this is real. Us. That we're just an average couple, cuddlin’ on the bed.

A couple? Seriously, Vox?

But reality crashes back in, reminding me that we're far from an average couple. I can't ignore the weight of Ares' orders pressing down on me, pulling me further from the life I could have with Rose.

Since when did I picture a future with her?

No fuckin' clue but each day that passes tattoos her deeper into my flesh and bones. I bury my face in Rose's hair, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent, trying to memorize every detail of this moment before it slips away. I hold her tight, her breaths quickenin’. She stirs in my arms, like she knows somethin’s off, and lifts her head to meet my gaze.

Those eyes–those fuckin' gorgeous blue eyes that would make any man fall on their knees.

I can tell she's trying to read me, but I’m not ready to tell her yet. We stay like this for a while before I hear her stomach growl. Chuckling, I kiss her hair, strokin’ her cheeks.

“Let's go downstairs, I'll cook you somethin’.”

She pouts like she doesn't want to leave the bed but her belly growls again, making me laugh.

“C’mon, gotta feed my little monster,” I say, teasin’ her. “You like macaroni and cheese, Angel?” She shrugs and that's when I wonder what she actually eats everyday. She has so many fuckin' weird rules to follow like the brown dresses and forbidden books and shit, it wouldn't be a surprise that she'd have restricted foods too.

“What do you eat normally, like every day?” I ask her as we walk downstairs. I wanna know what my girl likes so I can buy it for her.

Don't say that.

You're leaving.

There's no point knowing more about her .

She starts to sign but I don't get it. I haven't reached the food section in my online courses, which are going pretty well but I'm still far from understanding everythin’ which pisses me off. Cause I have no fuckin’ patience and I want to understand her, always. I never want her to feel alone or excluded. I make a mental note to tackle more signs everyday to make it easier for her.

“Wait, I'll get the notebook.” As we reach the kitchen, I give her the pen and the notebook I always keep out on the counter for her since the first time she came here.

“Ham and potatoes. Nothing fancy. We don't have sugary foods, the Ascendium says we need to eat like peasants to stay on the right path.” My eyes widen at her words.

Like fuckin' peasants?

That’s it, I’m making her macaroni and cheese.

I fuckin' hate the people who force her to live such a flavourless life. I want her to know everything about the world.

“Do you like eatin’ this way?” I ask, clenching my jaw to avoid saying what I really think. She doesn't answer right away, then looks at the window toward her house and shrugs one shoulder.

“Really?” I push her a bit.

She shakes her head.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

“Alright, write down anythin’ you wanna try and I'll get it for ya, sweetheart.” I walk towards the fridge to take the cheese and the butter out. She shakes her head, her eyes suddenly shy like she doesn't want to bother me or somethin’.

Don't like when she does that, cause how could she ever bother me?

“Angel, none of this with me.” I motion my chin toward the notebook.

“Write.” I point to the pen with my index finger.

She makes a little sigh and starts to write. I like that she's as stubborn as me, keeps me on my feet. Never liked my women to be dull. I like the challenge, knowing that I'll have someone who won't be afraid of me and tell me I'm wrong when I fuckin' am. That's why I don't like the girls hanging at our club. They only see me as the vice-president, trying to get in my bed just to secure their place as an old lady.

What challenge is there in it?

As I glance over Rose's list, a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. Oreos, cupcakes, waffles, pizza… she’s aiming for the good stuff.

"Alright, got it," I say with a chuckle, scanning over her choices. "Looks like we're going all out." I have to bite the inside of my cheeks when I see her shy smile sending a surge of warmth in my chest. Can’t stop myself to picture us out in town, grabbing a bite of pizza after driving up the hills on my bike.

You're leaving, Vox, none of it will ever happen .

I shove this thought away, trying to focus on my girl and each second I can get with her until I'll eventually have to leave.

Like a fuckin’ crack addict.

She then sits on the stool and starts drawing on the notebook while I cook.

Could fuckin’ get used to this.

Once dinner's ready, I join her and try to hide how fuckin’ eager I am to see her reaction. But before that, there's somethin’ else I have to do. Reaching into the pantry, I pull out a box of Oreos and set it down in front of her with a grin.

“Dessert first, sweetheart." Nothing wrong with breaking a few rules, that's how I like it actually. Her eyes widen in surprise, and then she smiles—a genuine, joyful smile that lights up the room. Taking the biscuit in her hand, she observes it like it's a strange alien thingy, turnin’ it on both sides, then bringin’ it near her tiny nose to smell it. Closing her eyes at the sugary scent, she takes a bite and hums with pleasure. Openin’ up her eyes, she mouths “Thank you” with a little smile.

Damn, that was the sweetest thing in the world.

“Wait until you try pizza, nothin’ will taste good afterwards,” I say with a grin on my face cause, fuck, she makes me happy. As we settle in to eat, her blue eyes keep glancing at me.

"Just ask, sweetheart, I don't bite," I say, my voice rough yet reassuring. I want her to feel comfortable, not afraid of me. I'm used to people being afraid of me, but I don't want that with her.

She slides a piece of paper over to me. "Tell me about you, your work. I feel like I hardly know anything about it when you know so much more about me."

I take a moment to study her, taking in the way she’s completely focused on me like I'm important or some shit. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only curiosity. I don't like talkin’ about myself; there's not much to say that wouldn't scare people away.

"Alright," I say, breaking the silence. Taking a sip of my drink, I gather my thoughts. “When I'm not here with ya, I'm mostly at the club, or out doing business for the club.” I pause, searchin’ for the right way to explain my world to someone who had never been a part of it. "There's a lot of different things I do. Day-to-day stuff, like handlin’ accounts and makin’ sure things run smoothly. And there's also… hum, another side of the business." I glance at her, searchin’ for any reaction but she stays still, holding on to every word I say.

"What I do… it’s…”

Fuck, how can I even explain without her running away from me?

“What I do, it ain't all pretty. There's some real gritty shit I gotta deal with, stuff that could scare ya," I say, struggling to share the true nature of what I do. Killing, torturing, making surprises visits to people who fuck with the club then sending then to Carter for him to play.

Not the kind of conversation you wanna have over dinner.

I take another bite of my meal, momentarily distracting me from our conversation.

"Just… just know that I ain't no hero," I add, my tone softer now. "I'm just a man tryin' to do right by the ones I care about.”

Cause it’s true. I’ll kill every damn day if it’s to protect the club, and I have no issue with it. I protect those I care about. But I can’t tell her that, I can’t tell her that I’m a killer. She’ll run away from me and I can’t. I just can’t take it. She’ll see me for what I am one day and leave me, a disgusted look in her eyes at the man she once trusted.

That’s who I am, not a fuckin’ Prince Charming.

I search for a reaction that could tell me she doesn't want anythin’ to do with me anymore, but I can't read her.

“Talk to me, Angel, anythin’.” I need to know, even if deep down I already know the answer.

You've got nothin’ to offer to a girl like her, you're just a killer, giving a shot at somethin’ men like you are not allowed to have .

Pulling out the notebook, she writes somethin’ and gives it to me, her eyes suddenly lightin’ up.

"Those who cast shadows of judgment shall dwell in the darkness they create.

- Ascendium 4:16"

Damn. Didn’t see this coming.

She quoted her bible, the book I’ve seen her take with her each time she gets out of her house. Turns out not everythin’ is trash in it. I’ll make an exception for this.

I sigh. Even if she doesn’t judge me, it doesn’t mean she’ll accept me. As if she was sensin’ my restraint, she laces her fingers with mine, talking my breath away.

“Vox,” a broken murmur comes out of her perfect full lips.

“I… like… you,” she manages to say, so low I can barely hear it without being focused solely on her. She winces, her eyes closing for a second before holding a hand on her throat.

Damn, it looks painful.

She likes me.

That's what she just said.

Me, a broken cold soul. Despite my darkness, despite our differences, despite it all, she likes me.

Can't even fuckin' process her words.

Taking my jaw between her palms, she comes closer, resting her forehead on mine, makin’ my black heart burst into my chest. She tries to stay somethin’ but she turns her face as if it was too painful. Her blue eyes get watery, deception written on her face at the frustration of the moment.

“It's alright, Angel. Never want ya to talk if it's painful. Never,” I say, takin’ her chin between my fingers. Need to tell her that I fuckin' burn for her, that I feel it too.

This.

The fire between us.

"You're somethin' else, Angel,” I manage to say, despite my heart pumping in my chest making it hard for me to breathe. I wanna tell her I'm into her, but she probably already knows it. Don't know why the words can't fuckin’ get out. Keepin’ her chin in my fingers, pullin’ her face up towards mine, I murmur, “Mine.”

Her body shivers against me.

“Stay tonight,” I whisper, my fingertips runnin’ on her jaw. Her eyes widen with curiosity and something else, something that looks like lust and a tint of fear.

“No, wait, that's not what I meant, fuck.” I take her face in my hands, forcin’ her gaze in mine.

“We don't have to do anythin’,” I say, weighting each word so she knows I'm not tryin’ to rush her into somethin’ she's not ready for.

Damn, never had to have that kind of talk with a chick before, but Rose's different, everythin’s different with her.

“We can watch a movie, bake fuckin' brownies if you want. I just want to be with ya, so whatever you want we'll do,” I say, liftin’ her palm and kissin’ it gently, her body drawing to me like a magnet.

“Just wanna hold you in my arms all night,” I say, kissin’ her forehead. I haven't tried to steal a kiss from her lips yet. Somehow, I know she's not ready, it would overwhelm her, and the last thing I want is for her to run away from me. Never been a patient man, but for her, I'll try.

Lifting her face towards mine, she nods with a small smile, biting her lips and makin’ my fist clench as the result.

Is she aware of the power she has over me?

“Vox?” she mouths, and fuck, can't even describe how addicting it is to see the way she says my name. Like I'm a goddamn prayer.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” I ask, pushing a stray of hair behind her ear.

“Could we watch a movie?” she signs, and I'm surprised I get what she said. Well, I got the word “movie”, but it’s a start. Turns out, hours of online classes each night isn't such a waste of time. Maybe a movie could soothe her.

“Sure,” anythin’ for my girl, “What do you wanna watch?”

“I don't know, something with pirates or magic?” she writes in the notebook.

“Hum, okay, that's specific.” I chuckle, always liking knowing new stuff about her. She keeps on surprising me. Looks like she wants to escape in another world for a bit. Can't fuckin' blame her.

“I'm gonna make popcorn, make yourself comfortable on the couch. I'll be right back,” I say, expecting her to disappear in the living room, but instead she walks toward me, her eyes glued to the popcorn bag I’ve put on the counter.

Fuckin’ adorable.

“Chocolate syrup or caramel?” I ask, her eyes glowing with excitement, showing her the two bottles in my hands. She bites her index, not knowing what to choose.

“Alright both, but I warn you, it's fuckin' addictin’, could probably eat a ton of them,” I say, watching her tongue wetting her lower lips, making me freeze for a sec at the sight.

I put the popcorn bag in the microwave and push the on button. A few pops echoes in the kitchen, the scent already filling the place. Don’t know why, but with her, my house feels like a home. She stares at the microwave with curiosity, jumping a little bit each time a new corn pops. When the inside of the bag starts to pop like pouring rain, she smiles and puts her hand on her mouth.

That's when I notice.

Her shoulders are moving slightly up and down, her chest is heaving, and a small breathy rapid sound comes from her delicious mouth.

She's laughing.

My angel is silently laughin’ and that's the most perfect sight I have ever seen in my life and probably will ever see.

Can't fuckin' ruin this night by tellin’ her I'm suppose to leave. Won’t lose this moment over club business. I want to enjoy tonight with my girl, watchin’ her laugh and smile. That's all that matters right now.

Patting her lower back, I push her gently on the side. Don't want her to get burnt. I open the small door, taking the popcorn and pouring the content in a salad bowl. I give her the chocolate syrup and take the caramel one. Haven’t had this kind of treat for so long. Sharing a smile we both spread the syrups on the popcorn, and once she's satisfied, after literally spraying all the syrup on the popcorn, she puts it back on the counter, biting her lips.

“C’mon Angel, gotta pick the movie,” I say, lacing my fingers with hers and taking the bowl in my other hand. She squeezes mine back and raises on her toes to kiss my cheek quickly with a flirty smile. My heart skips a beat, takin’ me off guard.

And that's how I know.

That one day, I'm gonna tie myself to this girl in all the ways humanly possible, cause there's no way I'm livin’ this life without her by my side.

Fuckin' hell.

Looks like the walls have finally crumbled down.

Rose

What a strange pirate. I keep laughing so hard since Vox put it on. Something with Carabeen in the title and the main character is hilarious. He walks in such a strange way, I can’t keep a straight face. I know Vox is watching me as much as I’m watching the movie. He has a small grin on his face like he’s mesmerized by me or something.

It’s making me feel like I have hundreds of butterflies in my belly. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. Especially since I'm usually too self-conscious to let go and laugh in public, because I know my way is… well, kind of weird. I laugh but I don’t make any sound because of my damaged vocal chords. But Vox doesn’t seem to care.

Actually, I think he kind of… likes it.

Nestled in his arms on the couch, I don’t stop myself from melting into him, feeling his warm chest against mine. I’m not afraid to touch him anymore; it has become second nature.

It’s late, I had to wait for my parents to fall asleep, but nothing could be more worth it than this moment.

Sometimes I just wish I could be heard for once, in moments like this one, with Vox. I wish he could hear me, and from his intense look at me, I bet he wishes it too.

He hasn't asked me yet how I lost my voice and I’m thankful for it. He doesn't make my mutism a topic of conversation, like it's some kind of elephant in the room people have a right to know of. It's not like that. And I don't like when I'm asked to give people a reason for my inability to speak, like I owe it to them. It doesn't reach their closed minds that perhaps it's painful for me to explain how I lost my voice, how it changed my life drastically, isolating me like a sickness people were afraid to catch.

The fact that he keeps the notebook always out on the counter and that he is learning sign language just makes me speechless.

Well, joke’s on me.

But that's how I feel about it. Never thought such a manly, imposing biker man would take the time to do such a thoughtful thing. He surprises me everyday, cooking for me, making sure I feel safe around him. Even if I feel how much our bodies are drawn to one another, he watches me like a starved man seeing an oasis in the desert and still, he holds back. Which is why I only respect him more for giving me space, to take my time and not rush things.

I want to tell him about my voice one day.

He opened up himself at dinner, letting me know about his work. But I could tell he wasn’t giving me the whole story. He was sugar coating things, his eyes filled with worry about my reaction, so much it broke my heart.

Since I was a little girl, I’ve been taught about right and wrong, about what was out of line and what was acceptable. But it all changed when I met him. The lines blurred. And now I can’t look at anything with the same certainty I had before. Now there’s nuances, shades I didn’t know, complexities I’ve been kept from.

Vox keeps telling me how much of a bad man he is but it’s not true. He’s good to the people he cares about, his brothers and… me. Since day one, he has taken care of me in a way that makes me want to curl up and cry.

Whatever he is hiding from me, I won’t run away from him. Because I like him.

Like? That’s a bit more and you know it…

Like isn’t strong enough but I don’t have it in me to admit the truth, not right now, not with everything going on in my messed-up life. Admitting it is makes it alive, and once it exists, it’ll break me into pieces when I’ll eventually lose it. Because there’s no way on earth Vox shares those feelings for me. I'm just a strange girl with strange clothes and strange habits.

Liar. You know it’s not about that.

I bit my lips, struggling to stay calm with my mind churning in all directions.

What would a man like him do with a girl like me?

He’ll get bored eventually, looking for adventure and challenges awaiting him. He’s wild and I’m… dull and boring and I don’t even know what pizza tastes like.

Lies. He looks at you like a dying man looks at his maker.

His rough hand strokes my hair gently. “Can hear your mind from here, Angel,” he says, his eyes still on the screen.

I make a small smile. How can this man always know what I think about?

He’s my dark knight, covered in leather and black clothes, riding a metallic beast, watching over me with his protective gaze.

Mine.

Just like he called me.

A surge of possession washes over me.

Could I live without this? Him? Us?

Could I accept the darkness of what he’s hiding? Could I accept him if he… killed?

As terrible as it sounds, I know I would accept him no matter what.

Is it bad that I can picture him covered in blood, cutting someone's throat and somehow… somehow it doesn't surprise me? Because despite feeling safe with him, I get that he's scary for most people. With his sharp blue eyes that pierce your soul, his muscular and tall figure that barely makes it through the door frame, the lack of expression on his face before he sees me, he's not the average man you walk by in the streets. He looks like… a killer, like a man who strangled a hundred men with his bare hands and didn't think twice about it. Because he did it for the club and the people he cared about. And somehow, it doesn't scare me away.

It should.

This is crazy and unreasonable.

But you'd have to be blind to not see how much he cares for the club and for… me. One day I hope he'll tell me about his past, about his family, and why he chose this life. Or perhaps this life chose him, perhaps he was meant to be there all along.

I bite my thumb, weighing the pros and cons of asking him about his family, but I'm afraid it'll ruin the night if he doesn't want to share that and make him face old memories he probably wants to keep buried. Right when I decide to ask him about his name, wonderin’ if it’s his real one, he cuts me before I have the chance to take the notebook resting on the arm of the couch.

“Wanna talk about what happened today?” he asks casually, but I sense a tension in his body, as if he is holding his breath. I raise my eyes to him, which makes our noses almost touch.

“I need to know, Angel, need to know who I have to punch for makin’ you so stressed.” Something is dancing in his pupils, like a fire aimed to hurt.

“I had a meeting with the Shepherd,” I write, my hands shaking to admit it.

It feels wrong.

He should be… mine.

And I should be… his.

I mean, I’ve never been in a relationship, let alone one with someone from the outside world, but Vox and I share something far deeper than I have ever hoped to share with anyone. And I truly feel like his, especially right now nestled in his arms. Hence why it doesn’t sit right with me to talk about it.

“At the Institute, right?”

I raise one of my brows, questioning him. He sighs, fidgeting with his hand like he’s hesitating to admit something.

“I’ve put a tracker in your phone to know where you are at all times.”

My mouth makes a little oh and he stares at it with intensity.

A tracker? That’s how he knew I was in a building.

“ Just wanna know you’re safe,” he says, clenching his jaw.

Why doesn’t it bother me…?

I must be insane because the thought of him keeping an eye on me is… intoxicating.

He swallows hard. “Tell me everythin’, I wanna know exactly what happened’.” His voice is blank, like a soldier ready to fight.

“I had doubts,” I write. His eyebrow lifts slightly but his gaze deepens as he looks at me like he’s expecting a confession. “About him, about the community.” I lower my head, ashamed to admit it. He lifts my chin with his index finger, forcing me to face him.

“Told ya before, none of that with me, Angel.”

I exhale deeply, letting the tension leave my body.

It’s Vox. I’m safe. He would never leave me in distress. He cares about me, that's why he wants to know.

“It didn’t sit right with me, knowing he bought guns from your club.”

Vox nods slightly, “Go on.”

So I tell him everything, from the cold laugh of the Shepherd, to the talk about staying at home with his children, and me running away to hide in the library. Vox's chest is heaving when I finish and the knuckles of his hands turned white. Fidgeting next to him, I bite my lips, avoiding his gaze.

“Angel?”

I shake my head, still looking down, ashamed of myself for admitting this.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” His voice is low and raspy with a tint of softness.

God, these nicknames will be the end of me.

“There’s more you’re not tellin’ me.” It’s not even a question, more of a statement. His blue eyes piercing my soul.

Taking the pen, I write, “He said he would take me in his bed, whenever he wants to.” Letting the pen fall on my lap, I rest my palms on my eyes, hiding beneath it, wanting to bury myself under the couch and disappear.

I’m not allowed to talk about those matters with anyone. I shouldn’t bring this up with Vox. But then again, I shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Vox doesn’t say anything, his body still like a statue, his chest heaving so loud I wonder if he’s having a sort of panic attack. Then his voice echoes in the room, his tone harsh and distant, making a shiver run down my back.

“When’s the fuckin’ wedding?”

Vox

Any man who touches my angel has a death warrant hangin’ on his head. But a man who claims her in this sick twisted way is in for a fuckin’ treat. He won't know mercy or forgiveness. I’ll torture him for days, sewing back his wounds to stop the bleedin’, lettin’ him feel his body die slowly, painfully until there’s nothin’ left but pieces of flesh spread around the room.

I hope I’ll get the opportunity soon.

“At the end of the month. Last Sunday during the morning service.” Less than a month. So fuckin’ short.

“What time exactly?” I need to know every fuckin’ detail.

Furrowing her brows, she writes, “Why does this matter to you?”

Damn, I don’t know how to tell her. Despite it all, I need to know those details cause there’s no way in hell I’m lettin’ her go through with it. I’ll fuckin’ take her with me when she’s at the altar if I need to. Don’t give a fuck about her folks or her so called community. They don’t deserve an angel as pure as her. Don’t know when I got my mind around it, but from the moment she told me about this wedding joke, I knew I wouldn’t stay and watch the show. Only, I don’t know how I can tell her that when on they other side of my life stands Ares and his fuckin’ order to move to the other side of the country.

“Everythin’ you do matters to me,” I say in a shaper way than I wished for. “Fuck, Rose, a month, that’s basically tomorrow.” Runnin’ a hand in my hair, I watch as heavy tears falls on her cheeks, her lower lips tremblin’ and her gaze locked with mine with an intensity that takes my damn breath away.

Don’t cry, Angel, I’m right here.

Called her Rose a few time this evenin’, as if I was tryin’ to put distance with her even if it felt like the most unnatural thing to fuckin’ do.

“Plea-se don’t…” she tries to say, but I stop her, watching her throat ache like someone’s chokin’ her.

“Don’t ya dare hurt yourself for me, Angel.” She scribbles something fast, then hands it to me.

“Please don’t leave me alone.” My heart hammers in my chest at her words.

Not leaving her alone as in right now, or in this messed up marriage situation?

Taking a deep breath, I rest my forehead with hers. “Never, Angel, never.”

“I…” her breath quickens, “…need,” I want to stop her from hurtin’ herself for me but I pull back when I notice the determination in her gaze. She wants me to hear this.

“…you.”

I need you.

Me too, Angel, me too.

“I'm right here with ya.” Lacing my fingers with hers, I stroke her hand with my thumb.

“Stay tonight. Can stand knowin’ my girl isn’t with me at night.” A glint of surprise flashes through her eyes before she nods, a lush shade of pink spreading on her cheeks. Taking her hand in mine, I motion for her to follow me upstairs.

Have I put the heating system on? It’s fuckin’ hot all of the sudden.

Her tiny hand squeezes mine, her breath quickening as we arrive in front of my bedroom. There’s somethin’ new floatin’ in the air, a tension we didn’t share before.

Leading her into the room, she let go of my hand and walks to the standing mirror in the corner of the room. I stay back, drinkin’ in every single inch of her. Taking her hand behind her neck, she detangles her thick blonde hair with her fingers.

Damn, what wouldn’t I do to do that myself.

Her hair cascades over her shoulders, framin’ her petite features in the dim orange light. I know she’s steppin’ out of her comfort zone, showin’ me her natural hair, and I fuckin’ love watchin’ her break the rules. I can’t help but beam with pride cause she’s choosin’ me to witness it. I remove the bedcover and gesture for her to go in it.

“Get in.” She follows my command and slides under the covers, right on her side, as if she knew exactly where she had to go.

Wonder how were gonna do this without makin’ her uncomfortable. Never had to do this before. But Rose isn’t like anyone else, and I’d fuckin’ hate myself if she thought I wanted to take advantage of her.

She’s already in her nightgown, so that’s settled, no need for her to undress. Kind of wished she had to, but we gotta walk before we run.

As I remove my pants and exchange them for black cotton shorts, I notice her watchin’ me intently from under the covers.

Gettin’ bold, Angel?

Despite the tension crackling between us, I shove it away, cause that’s not what she needs from me right now. I want to comfort her, show her she can rely on me. But as I unbutton my shirt, revealin’ the inked designs etched into my skin, I can't ignore her blue pools burnin’ my flesh.

Fuck, I ain’t no saint. How am I gonna do this without punchin’ the wall?

I fuckin’ love how her eyes widen at the sight of my tattoos and the contours of my abs. Tracing each skull, gun and flames with an intensity I didn’t know she had in her.

Somethin’ wild in her eyes, somethin’ far from the innocent angel I’m used to.

Her gaze stops above my heart, liftin’ a brow at the sight of the names of my parents and my brother.

“My family,” I answer her silent question, “I used to have one.” Pointing at Jamie’s name marked in my skin, I continue trying to prevent my voice from cracking.

“My little brother, he was seven, you’d have liked him.” I clench my jaw.

It’s been a while since I talked about them.

Too fuckin’ long .

“They were killed in a car crash, the three of them,” I say, ignoring my voice breakin’ cause that’s the reason I never talk about the past. Cause it still fuckin’ hurt like a fresh cut. She’s watchin’ me, fully focused as if nothin’ in the whole world could distract her. It feels fuckin’ raw to tell her about it. Raising her hand to me, she curls her finger, tellin’ me to come closer. I don’t even bother putin’ on a shirt and I think she prefers it this way too.

It’s bout’ time we stop actin’ like this isn’t fuckin’ real.

I get in bed next to her, spooning her body like a freakin’ old married couple after years of life together. Cause it just makes sense. She just makes everythin’ better.

I’ll tell her the whole story one day, but right now I want to focus on the good. I wanna hold onto the memories rather than the trauma.

“I was fifteen when it happened. Everythin’ turn to shit after.” Holding her tighter to me, I continue, “Ares, my prez, found me in the streets and put me back on the right track. I owe my life to him. That’s why the club matters so much to me.”

My brothers, the club, they have become my family. Not the one I was born into but the one I chose. I need her to know. Cause this isn’t just about bikes and fighting. It’s my purpose.

She takes my hands, surrounding her hips and lifts them to her mouth. Then, cause she’s so fuckin’ perfect, she kisses them, mending my wounds, showin’ me she’s there.

“You belong here,” I whisper before kissing her hair, the vanilla hitting me like a drug.

“Th-thank… you fo-for tell-telling…me,” she murmurs painfully. Fuckin’ hate seeing her hurtin’, but damn, those sweet words are healin’ me faster then the thirteen years of denial I’ve inflicted on myself.

“Goodnight, Angel,” I say, then take a whiff of her hair before closin’ my eyes, photographing this moment in my mind forever. She squeezes my hand back as in wishing me goodnight too.

Don’t need to talk, I know my girl better now.

As she drifts off to sleep, her breath slows down. I stroke her delicate cheek with my calloused hand one last time before I zone out.

"I'll protect you, always," I whisper to myself.