Page 15 of My Knight

I shook my head. “I’ll come out and get it. Thanks, Adalee.”

She smiled and went back to stirring.

“Pirate,” Yarder called from the bar, beer in hand.

I stepped over. “Yeah?”

“How’s it going?”

“Going. Just getting her settled in.”

Yarder nodded. “Good. Church in the morning.”

“Something happen?”

He shook his head. “Just be there.”

“Will do.”

I made my way back to my room, the cold water bottles sweating in my hands. The hallway was dim, quiet except for the occasional creak of the wood under my boots.

Back at my door, I pushed it open gently and stepped inside.

Saylor was curled on her side, already asleep, the TV screen casting a faint blue light over her. Her hair spilled across the pillow, her breathing soft and steady—and she was snoring. Not loud. Just a faint, rhythmic little sound.

“So much for not sleeping, baby,” I whispered.

I set the bottles on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. I untied my boots and slipped them off, setting them neatly beside the chair. Then I eased myself onto the bed next to her, careful not to jostle her or touch her. She needed the rest more than anything.

She looked fragile in sleep, her usual edge softened. A fresh bruise bloomed along her cheekbone, and a shallow cut marked her forehead. Seeing it all laid out like that in the dim light—yeah. She’d been through hell.

But even with the bruises, she was beautiful.

Her black hair had that shine to it, falling in a messy halo. A silver ring pierced her nose, and her ears were studded with piercings that glinted in the TV’s glow. Her tattoos snaked down her arms—some small and funny, others bold and dark. She had a look that most people didn’t understand. Goth, yeah. But there was softness there, too. Something delicate in the way she held herself, even when she was trying to look like she didn’t give a damn.

I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I’d gotten some sleep the night before, but it had been choppy—nurses coming in and out of the hospital room, strange sounds pulling me out of what little rest I got. I hadn’t let myself sleep too deeply, not while she was hooked up to machines and looking like a shadow of herself.

But here?

We were safe in the clubhouse. She was next to me. And for the first time in days, I let myself breathe easy.

Sleep came quick.

Chapter Six

Saylor

I woke slowly, and my mind was like fog on a windshield. My head felt clearer than before, but that wasn’t saying much. It was quiet—too quiet for a clubhouse full of rowdy bikers—and the room was dark except for a narrow sliver of light that spilled out from beneath the bathroom door.

Water ran on the other side.

A shower sounded amazing right now. My body ached in places I didn’t even remember getting hit, and I felt the grime of the last forty-eight hours cling to me like a second skin. But the thought of walking in there—of seeing Pirate in the shower—gave me pause.

Did I want to shower with Pirate?

The thought surprised me. Caught me totally off guard. Ever since he’d been there when they loaded me into the ambulance, something had shifted. I’d been seeing him differently. Not just as the brooding biker who was always around. No, now I saw him as the man who’d held my hand when everything hurt, who didn’t leave even when I told him I’d be fine.

Crazy. Completely, undeniably crazy.

---