You're Ours Now

I don't know how long I stood there, trying to process what was happening. Long enough that the sun climbed higher in the sky, long enough that the heat in my body finally started to fade, leaving behind a strange, electric hum that I could feel in my bones. Long enough that I heard the sound of engines in the distance. Two of them. Getting closer. I looked back down the road and saw them: two motorcycles, riding side by side, moving fast. The twins. My heart kicked into overdrive. I didn't know how they'd found me—maybe they'd tracked the bike, maybe they'd just followed the road—but it didn't matter. They were coming, and I was out of time. I climbed back onto the bike and turned the key. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. "Come on," I hissed, my hands shaking. "Come on." The engines were getting louder. I could see them now, two figures in leather and denim, their faces hidden behind helmets. I tried the key one more time, and the engine coughed, sputtered, and died. The twins pulled up on either side of me, their bikes flanking mine, boxing me in. For a long moment, nobody moved. Then the blonde—Cade, I remembered—pulled off his helmet and grinned at me. "Nice bike," he said. His voice was smooth, amused, as if this were all some kind of game. "Shame it's not yours." The brunette—River—pulled off his helmet too, and I felt the full weight of his gaze settle on me. He wasn't smiling. He looked calm, controlled, but there was something dangerous in his eyes, something that made my pulse spike. "Get off the bike," he said. His voice was low, rough, the kind of voice that didn't expect to be disobeyed. I tightened my grip on the handlebars. "No." Cade laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, I like her." River's expression didn't change. "Get. Off. The bike." I met his eyes, saw the promise of violence there, and knew I was out of options. Slowly, I swung my leg over and stood, my hands raised in surrender. River climbed off his own bike and walked toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was stalking prey. He stopped just close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell leather and motor oil and something darker, wilder. "You broke a wolf's nose," he said. "Stole his keys. Stole his bike." "He had it coming," I said, and was surprised by how steady my voice sounded. River's mouth twitched. "Maybe. But you still stole from him. And in our bar, that's a problem." "Your bar?" "Our bar," Cade confirmed, moving to stand on my other side. I was boxed in again, trapped between them, and I hated how small it made me feel. "The Iron Den belongs to us. Which means everything that happens there is our business." I looked between them, at the matching expressions of predatory interest, and felt my stomach drop. "So what are you going to do?" I asked. "Turn me over to him? Let him finish what he started?" River leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted across my cheek. "No," he said softly. "We're going to keep you." My heart stopped. "What?" Cade smiled, slow and dangerous. "You heard him, sweetheart. You're ours now." "I'm not—" "You are," River interrupted. His hand came up, his fingers curling around my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. "You walked into our bar. You spilled blood on our floor. And you smell like—" He stopped, his nostrils flaring, his eyes darkening. "Like what?" I whispered. Cade moved closer, his chest pressing against my back, his hands settling on my hips. I could feel him breathing me in, could feel the tension coiling in his body. "Like ours," he murmured against my ear. "You smell like you're ours." I should have been terrified. Should have been fighting, screaming, doing anything to get away from these two dangerous, beautiful men who were looking at me like I was something they wanted to devour. But I wasn't. Because despite everything—despite the fear and the exhaustion and the lingering heat in my veins—my body was responding to them. Heat pooled low in my belly, my skin prickling with awareness, my n*****s hardening against the thin fabric of my slip. I wanted them. God help me, I wanted them. "I don't belong to anyone," I said, but my voice came out breathless, shaky. River's thumb brushed across my lower lip, and I felt the touch like a brand. "You do now," he said. Then he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was raw and claiming and absolutely devastating, his mouth moving against mine with a hunger that stole my breath. I felt Cade's hands tighten on my hips, felt him press closer, his body hard and hot against my back. I was surrounded by them, consumed by them, and I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel. When River finally pulled back, his eyes were molten, his breathing ragged. "Get on my bike," he said. "We're taking you home." I should have said no. Should have run, fought, done anything but obey. But I didn't. I climbed onto River’s motorcycle, pressing in behind him as his hands gripped the handlebars, his back solid against my chest. Cade mounted his own bike, his eyes never leaving mine, that lazy smile still playing at his lips. "Let's go, mate," Cade said. And then we were moving, the world blurring around us, and I realized with a strange, wild certainty that my life had just changed forever.