Hooked (Viking Bastards MC)

by Christina Phillips

  Before leaving the club I had a skin scalding shower and used half a bottle of mouthwash but I still feel like shit when I look at her. For a few seconds, I can’t move. I’ve faced down rival club members, broken more bones than I can count in defense of my brothers, and locked horns with the law on more than a few occasions. But I’ve never had this sick churning in my gut before, and I sure as hell have never suffered from sweaty palms in the past.

  I can think up a hundred reasons for the way I’m feeling, but the truth is worse than any of them.

  I’m afraid she won’t give me a second chance.

  She doesn’t come toward me or invite me onto the property, so I brace myself and swagger toward her. If she didn’t want to see me again she wouldn’t have come out here. I’m halfway to victory already.

  “Hey.” I offer her a thong-melting smile, but I don’t grab her and kiss her the way I want to, because instead of welcoming me with open arms, she’s as warm as an ice sculpture.

  “Why are you here?”

  Because I can’t stay away. I’ll die before saying anything like that. “You invited me, remember?”

  “And you declined.”

  “Guy can’t change his mind?” I never change my mind. She doesn’t need to know that.

  She folds her arms and glances over her shoulder. Only then do I see a security guard lurking halfway down the driveway to the mansion. I give the guy the evil eye and then ignore him. He’s not important.

  “I got the impression you never wanted to see me again.”

  She’s so coolly polite I don’t know how to handle it. Then again, I already know from the other day that she doesn’t scream abuse or throw things when she gets mad.

  No, all she has to do is say a few words and it’s enough to crack open my world.

  “You got the wrong impression.” I hope those security cameras aren’t recording this. If it ever got into the hands of my brothers—

  “No, I didn’t, Zach. You were very clear.”

  I forget about the cameras. Is she really going to make me beg, for Chrissakes? “Grace, I’m here. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

  She bites her lip, and for a second she looks so vulnerable I think I’ve won. I reach for her, and she goes rigid.

  “No, it doesn’t. Why don’t you try spelling it out for me? That’d help.”

  I exhale a long breath. On the ride over I had plenty of time to think about how this confrontation would go. It ranged from her setting the guard dogs on me, to her falling into my arms, but at no point did the possibility of me having to explain my actions raise its ugly head.

  The only ones I explain myself to are my president and my brothers. If Grace wants me, then she has to forget about everything I said in the kitchen. She must know I didn’t mean it.

  Except she isn’t the one who chased after me. I can tell myself anything, but the truth is I don’t know what she wants. And until I tell her the real reason why I’m here, she’s not going to give me an inch.

  It’d be so much easier to turn around and get back on my bike. I’ll never have to see her again. Never have to risk telling her things I don’t even understand myself. I’ll never be short of girls wanting to screw me, but not one of them will bake me cupcakes, or spend hours crafting tiny Viking decorations.

  None of them will ever be Grace. And she’s the only one I want.

  “I’m sorry.” Fuck, that hurts. I glare at her, and she’s frowning, as though she has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “What did you say?”

  Screw that. She knows exactly what I’m talking about. I take a deep breath. I’ve said it once and it didn’t kill me. The second time’s sure to be easier.

  “I’m sorry for being a dick.” It isn’t easier. This is agony. “The only reason I came here today is because I wanted to ask you to—” The words stick in my throat and I cough, but it doesn’t help.

  “Ask me what?” She’s still frowning but she’s not giving off the same angry vibes she was a minute ago.

  I grab her hand, and although she doesn’t grasp my fingers, at least she doesn’t pull away. That’s got to be a good sign.

  “Forgive me. All that shit I said… I didn’t mean to hurt you.” The earth doesn’t crack open and the sky doesn’t explode, but there’s a crushing weight on my chest and my head’s pounding. Is any chick worth this kind of grief?

  Grace’s fingers tighten around mine, and when I see her lip wobble I know my degradation is worth every torturous second if it means she’ll come back to me.

  “I can only guess how much that cost you.” She gives a small smile and then sniffs. “I sure saw a different side to you back in your kitchen.”

  She hasn’t backed away, but she hasn’t forgiven me. What happens if she can’t? I spent most of the last couple of days in a drunken stupor which dulled my brain, but I’m stone cold sober now. And finally I face the one thought I’ve been avoiding ever since I made the decision to come here.

  What will I do if she won’t take me back?

  I’ll always have my brothers and my club. I’ll always have the respect and fear from my community that goes along with being a Bastard. None of that’s going to change, whatever happens here today.

  But none of it will mean everything, the way it always used to, if Grace walks away. Deep inside my chest there’s a hollow pain, and it takes a second before I face the stark, terrifying truth.

  I love her.

  “Fuck, Grace.” My voice is hoarse, and she doesn’t seem to care that I’m crushing her fingers. If I let go, she might never let me touch her again. “That’s not who I am. Not who I am with you.”

  “I don’t want you to be different with me.”

  That’s not what I mean. I don’t know how to tell her what I mean.

  “You—” I choke on words I can’t find, and couldn’t say even if I did. “Shit, this is hard. I pushed you away because I was fucked up over the thought of you getting back with your ex. That your family’ll never accept me the way they did him. That you’re too fucking good for me and everyone knows it.”

  Ah, hell. Looks like I found the words after all. Now is a good time to die.

  She’s looking at me as though she’s never seen me before, and for the first time in my life I want the earth to open and swallow me whole.

  “You’ve never had any cause to be jealous of Russell.” She presses her free hand against my heart. “Our families will either accept us or they won’t. There’s nothing we can do about that. And…” She hesitates, a strange expression on her face. “You’re the one who’s been good for me, Zach. You made me stand up for what I really want.”

  This isn’t going too badly considering I just ripped open my chest and laid my heart at her feet. “You willing to forgive and forget?”

  There’s a sad smile on her face that doesn’t fill me with hope. “I really do appreciate you coming here to see me. It means a lot.”

  She appreciates me turning up today? I don’t want her to appreciate me. Before I can get my head around that, she takes a deep breath. It appears she hasn’t finished grinding me into the dust yet.

  “I don’t really know what you want from me, but it’s not going to work when we both need different things. I’ve enjoyed our month together, and I never thought it was anything serious on your side, but if you’re asking me to come back to you so we can, I don’t know, work on this, you need to know I’m not into open relationships.”

  Her words thunder through my head, making it hard to focus. Did she just say everything I thought she did?

  “You’ll come back to me?” That’s the most important thing, and I need to get that straight before I can figure out the rest.

  She lets out a long sigh. “I’m an idiot. I know you’ll probably just break my heart all over again, but I want us to work. Except I know how you feel about commitment and relationships.”

  Guess I deserve that, but it barely registers. I broke her heart? I’m a fucking
dickwad.

  I spear my fingers through her hair, dislodging the clip that holds it back from her face, and say something I’ve never said before or even thought could possibly be true.

  “I’ve been faithful to you since the night we met.”

  She doesn’t look nearly as impressed as I hoped. “We’ve only known each other a month.”

  She doesn’t get it. Why would she? But I need to make her understand. “I don’t want anyone else. Not at the club, not at Odin’s, because that’s just cheap sex and you’re—” I hesitate, not sure, but what the hell. You only die once, right. “Everything.”

  Pussy-whipped echoes through my mind, but I don’t care. So long as I’m the only one saying it and Grace is the reason why.

  “Cheap sex?” she repeats, but not like she’s pissed by my choice of words, which on second thought probably wasn’t the best comparison I could’ve come up with. “You want me for more than sex, then?”

  “Sex and muffins.” I think this conversation’s going in the right direction, but I’m not convinced. “With a side of cupcakes.” What the hell am I saying? I think I’ve lost my mind, but it’s worth it when she finally smiles.

  “I can live with that.” She glances back at the mansion. I follow her gaze, and there are at least twenty people standing under the fancy portico watching us. They’re too far away to see their faces, but I can guess their expressions. “I’m sorry I invited you for Thanksgiving dinner. It was too much.”

  It’s like she’s stabbed me through the heart—not that I let her see. “Yeah, don’t want to give all your ancient relatives strokes.”

  She frowns, as though she doesn’t get what I mean. “No, I meant it was unfair of me to expect you to face my entire family at once. There are loads of them. I just didn’t think. When you said you were going to be alone, I just…well, anyway. I’m sorry I put you on the spot.”

  Because she’s nice and I’m not used to nice. I grit my teeth, trying to keep the words locked down but it’s no good. A part of me wants to tell her, and deep inside I know that until I do, she’s always going to secretly think I was a prize prick for the way I acted that afternoon.

  “It wasn’t you. It had nothing to do with meeting your family.” I let out a measured breath, but it doesn’t help any. “I can’t do this holiday. Not for ten years. I just wanted to be with you.”

  I know none of that makes sense. She’s going to think I’m crazy, but instead of frowning and wanting to know what I’m talking about, she gently cradles my bruised jaw and presses herself against me.

  “Do you still want to spend Thanksgiving with me?”

  Is she for real? “As long as you’re with me, I don’t care where we are.”

  Her smile is like a balm on my heart. Oh yeah, I’ve really lost my head over this girl. “We’ll take a picnic on the beach. I’ll text my sister and ask her to arrange it for us. Is that okay?”

  She’s bailing on her family. For me. “You don’t have to do that.” My voice is gruff. “They’re expecting you to go back inside with them.”

  “I’ve made my choice. I want to spend the day with you.”

  This girl’s gonna kill me. But she’s more than my girl. She’s my woman.

  My old lady.

  I rest my forehead against hers. It’s never going to be easy to say, but there’s never going to be a better time than right now. “I know I’m a jerk, and I can’t give you the world, but I love you, Grace Mulholland. Never forget it.”

  “I was wrong. You’re not a jerk.” She traces the outline of my face with her finger. “And you’ve already given me the world.” She kisses me, soft and gentle, and it’s everything I’ve missed over the last couple of days. “I love you, too, Zach Reynolds.”

  I’ve always mocked the power of those three little words, but damn, they’re the best words I’ve ever heard. I pull her close and breathe in deep. It’s like I can see my future in this one moment, and what I choose to do next will define the kind of life we have together.

  Psychobabble shit. I know it. It doesn’t stop me.

  “If the invite’s still open, I’ll come to Thanksgiving with your family.”

  “Of course it’s still open. But you don’t have to do that.”

  “Hey, I’m all about compromise.” I give her a leer, since this is all getting way too deep. “But there’s a condition. I want you to meet my president, Jett, and his old lady.”

  “Okay.” She looks thrilled, and I’m sure it has more to do with me joining her family today than me inviting her to meet with my president. It’s okay. I don’t want to scare her off by telling her the implications of my offer. She’ll learn soon enough that once Jett accepts her, she becomes one of our own, who we’ll protect to the death.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles into me that way I love, and together we make our way toward the mansion and her family.

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  Acknowledgments

  First of all a big thank you to Michelle Legare for coming up with the awesome name of Razor’s Edge for the tattoo shop! A big thanks to Heather Howland for suggesting I might like to write a motorcycle club romance. I did :) Huge cyber hugs to the completely fabulous Candy Havens, you were so right about this being fun! Thanks to everyone at Entangled Publishing for all the support over the last year, especially Anita and Curtis. For my husband Mark and our family, I dare you to read this one! And Amanda and Sara, the best CPs a girl could ever want, we need to crack open a bottle of wine and find a pineapple very soon!

  About the Author

  Christina Phillips is an ex-pat Brit who now lives in sunny Western Australia with her high school sweetheart and their family. She enjoys writing paranormal, historical and contemporary romance but whether the hero is a fallen angel, tough warrior or sexy mortal, the romance will be sizzling and the heroine will bring her hero to his knees. She loves hearing from her readers!

  Christina is addicted to good coffee, expensive chocolate and bad boy heroes. She is also owned by three gorgeous cats who are convinced the universe revolves around their needs. They are not wrong.

  www.christinaphillips.com

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