Page 27 of Claimed By The Club
He yanks open the passenger door and hops in. “Drive,” he snaps, voice a little harsher than usual. “Unless you want more of ’em showing up.”
Tires squeal as I peel out of the lot. My pulse hammers in my ears, and my vision blurs with residual terror. We race onto the main road, dust swirling in the rearview mirror. I glance over, noticing Ghost cradling his right hand. A trickle of blood smears across his knuckles.
“Oh, God,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”
He exhales, wincing. “I’m fine. Just a scratch.”
My shoulders quake, the burst of adrenaline leaving me shaky. “Thank you,” I manage. “You saved me.”
Ghost’s gaze stays forward, expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t have been out alone. Frost would lose his mind if he knew.”
I bristle at the mention of Frost—Elias—though relief swamps me. “He’s probably out on that Reaper scouting run. I just… I needed groceries.”
Ghost says nothing, but his jaw clenches. Silence stretches as we speed down the highway, passing scrubby terrain and a few run-down houses. Eventually, I spot a dusty side road that leads toward the clubhouse, so I turn. My breath finally starts to even out.
“Still, thank you,” I repeat softly, eyes flicking to his bruised cheek. “You could’ve been badly hurt.”
“I’ve handled worse,” he mutters. Then, under his breath, “I couldn’t let him take you.”
Emotion seizes my throat. I realize how fiercely I care about these men, each in their own way. Frost isn’t the only onewho sparks something deep within me. Ghost has an unspoken intensity that draws me in, a quiet protector who always appears in my darkest moments.
We reach the compound’s gates. I punch in the entry code, glancing at the security camera overhead. The gate slides open, revealing the familiar stretch of yard. Axle stands by a row of bikes, eyes narrowing as he sees our disheveled state. I park near the clubhouse, turning off the engine. Ghost and I exit, but neither of us speaks until we’re behind the building.
He leans against the wall, exhaling. “Next time, tell someone before you go out.”
I cross my arms, guilt pricking. “I know. I’m sorry.”
His gaze lifts, locking on me with startling intensity. “You’re too important to risk.”
My stomach flips, uncertain how to respond. The raw concern in his voice is like a magnet pulling me closer. Without overthinking, I step forward, placing a hand on his uninjured arm. “I just… I appreciate you, Ghost.”
He dips his head in a nod, muscles taut as if fighting an inner battle. In the hush that follows, tension hums between us—a different kind than with Frost, but every bit as potent. My heart thuds, confusion swirling. I shouldn’t be reacting this way to two men from the same club. Hell, I’ve even felt sparks with Viper.
Fear of that truth pricks at me. Am I some sort of biker groupie for craving multiple connections? That label stings my pride. I never intended to be entangled with one man, let alone three. Yet I can’t deny how Ghost’s unwavering presence sets me at ease, or how Viper’s playful banter lights me up, or how Frost’s intensity ignites my soul.
Ghost’s gray eyes flick to my hand on his arm, then slide up to meet mine. “Sierra,” he says quietly, voice gravelly with emotion I can’t name.
My pulse skitters. “Yeah?”
He hesitates a moment, then dips his head, brushing his lips against mine in a brief, uncertain kiss. It’s gentle, not the crashing wave of passion like with Frost, but it sends a tremor through my entire body. For a second, I’m utterly still, torn between shock and a rush of longing that leaves me breathless.
He starts to pull back, but I clutch his arm, returning the kiss in a short burst of reciprocation. His hand cups my cheek, the pad of his thumb grazing my skin. Then he breaks away, stepping back, conflict etched across his features.
“Sorry,” he mutters, as if he regrets it.
My heart hammers. “Don’t be,” I whisper, a wave of guilt mixing with something else. “I’m just…”
He waits, letting me form the words, but I’m not sure what to say. Everything about this is twisted. I can’t be with Ghost, not when I’ve crossed lines with Frost. Yet I’m drawn to both. And Viper, too, for that matter—though we haven’t crossed physical boundaries yet, my heart jolts around him in ways I can’t ignore.
Ghost’s expression shutters. “We’ll keep this between us,” he says quietly. “No reason to stir up trouble when we’ve got bigger issues.”
I nod, voice shaky. “Right. Definitely.”
Footsteps approach around the corner, and we jump apart. Viper appears, sunglasses perched on his head, eyes flicking from Ghost’s bruised knuckles to my rattled posture. Concern floods his face, and he rushes forward. “What happened?”
Ghost crosses his arms, regaining composure. “Iron Reaper tried to grab her at Dolly’s. I intervened. He’s out cold.”
Viper swears under his breath, stepping closer to me. “You okay?”
