Page 35 of Nitro

Spike, seemingly oblivious to the chaos he had caused, chuckled.

"Clothes are overrated. Nitro, I've discovered the secret to winning over avian hearts. Feathers,” he said.

What Spike was saying made zero sense. I continued to lead him away from the forest clearing.

Thankfully, during our walk back to the MC clubhouse, I spotted Spike's discarded clothes on the forest ground, along with a couple of empty beer bottles.

I released Spike, tossing his clothes at him.

"Get dressed, unless you want everyone at the clubhouse to see your assets," I said.

Why did I always have to clean up after him?

Spike didn't argue, probably realizing that now wasn't the time to push my buttons.

He must've seen the furious expression on my face, and without a word, he mutely dressed up.

The crisp night air did nothing to cool my temper as we started our trek back to the clubhouse.

By some miracle, we returned in one piece, but I wasn't ready to let Spike off the hook just yet.

I threw the empty beer bottles into a nearby trash can. My gaze remained fixed on Spike.

"I could use a beer or two," he muttered to himself.

"No, to bed with you," I said, grabbing his arm again.

I led him upstairs, navigating the familiar halls of the clubhouse to where each bear shifter's private rooms were located.

The scent of leather, cigars, and faint traces of engine oil lingered in the air.

Spike stumbled along, his gait unsteady.

"Come on, Nitro, can't a guy enjoy a night out without being dragged to bed like a damn cub?" he grumbled, trying to free his arm from my grasp.

"Not when the night out involves you losing your damn mind and leaving a trail of chaos behind," I shot back.

We reached his room, the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open, guiding him inside.

The room was dimly lit, the glow from the bedside lamp revealing the mess of clothes and empty takeout containers scattered across the floor.

"Sleep it off, Spike. We'll talk about your lack of self-control tomorrow," I warned, leaving no room for argument.

I was about to shut the door behind me, but Spike called out to me again.

“Nitro?” Spike sounded uncertain.

“What?” I asked, eager to return to Tommy’s apartment.

“Don’t be mad at me. You’re my only friend, and you’re the only one in this MC who likes me, or at least finds me tolerable.” Spike's voice wavered, carrying a hint of desperation.

“Just get some sleep,” I said, trying to mask my impatience. “You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

I glanced back at him. Spike looked like a downright mess, and a pang of pity stirred inside me.

“You challenged Venom, remember?” I reminded him.

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