Prez Zane; Knot Me or Break Me

Ember POV

Colt's text came in while I was still unpacking. 'Home soon. Have something ready for me to eat.'

I stared at it for a second. What did my brother even like now? I'd been away at college so long I couldn't have told you his likes and dislikes if you paid me. I sighed and dragged myself into the kitchen.

I twisted my hair into a messy bun and felt my cropped top ride up my stomach. Too short, sure, but I was twenty-two, not a baby, and Colt needed to get that through his thick head. Ripped jeans hugging my thighs, with no bra. Let him see I'd grown up.

Guess I'll just prepare barbecue, then. My favorite, and easy enough.

I started with the veggies, knife moving fast, rhythm steady. Chop, chop, chop. I hummed off-key to a song I couldn't name, and for the first time in months I didn't feel like I was studying for something. Then the fish, steamed first so it stayed soft, then roasted under a heavy spice rub until the edges charred. The kitchen smelled like smoke and pepper in no time. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I wiped my face with a towel and kept going.

The front door creaked open.

I leaned around the doorframe. My heart did a quick flip. Colt walked in, tall and serious, same old big-brother face. But right behind him was Zane.

Prez Zane Thorne.

Years since I'd stood this close to him. He'd gotten bigger. Broader, colder. And fuck, hotter. The word screamed through my head while I stared, and thank God he didn't seem to notice. Even from across the kitchen he smelled like cedar and rain and something wild, and something low in my chest shifted, like a sleeper rolling over.

Colt hadn't warned me he was bringing the president of the club home. I would've put on a damn bra.

I checked the fish. Still good. I plated Colt's food, mumbled "Here," and bolted upstairs. My skin felt too tight. Heat crawled up my chest and I couldn't shake it. What the hell was that?

Zane had been Colt's friend since long before either of them wore the club's patch, and I'd never once drooled over him. Maybe he'd just gotten hotter. Or maybe I'd finally gotten old enough to notice.

I shut the bathroom door behind me, didn't hear the latch catch, and was too rattled to care. Clothes off, the water on. It ran slow over my skin, then hotter when I turned the dial, like I could burn the thought out of me. I replayed it instead: the way he'd filled the doorway, the ink stretched across his chest, the way his eyes had swept over me like he was making up his mind about something.

My hand drifted down between my legs and I stopped it. Not for him. Not for Prez Zane.

But my body wasn't listening. Wanting a man's hands was one thing. This was teeth at my neck, a rough grip pinning my wrists, the heavy stretch of a knot. It was something old, and it wasn't asking permission.

I shook my head. Stop it, Ember.

I shut off the water and reached for the towel. My fingers had just closed around it when I saw the door was open a crack.

Zane stood in the gap, eyes locked on mine.

His gaze moved down my bare body, slow and heavy, like he had every right. For a second his eyes flashed gold. Wolf. Hunger, and something possessive that turned my knees to water. I should have covered myself. The towel was right there in my fist, and I didn't lift it. Nipples tight, core throbbing, legs shaking.

He didn't speak. He just looked, like he was deciding whether to walk in and pin me against the tile.

Then he turned and walked away like it was nothing.

I stood there dripping, heart slamming against my ribs. What the fuck was that?

Part of me wanted to run down the hall after him and tell him to come back and look closer. But Colt was downstairs, and the club law was clear: nobody touches an officer's family. Zane had written that rule himself. So why had he looked at me like that?

My body didn't care about rules. My wolf, quiet for years, stirred and whispered something I couldn't quite catch. But I felt it. And it felt dangerous.

I wrapped the towel around me and pulled on a nightie. Colt had said I'd be working the clubhouse bar tomorrow, just until I finished my final exams and got my certs. I'd eat, then sleep.

Downstairs, the living room was empty. Colt's voice drifted in from the back porch, low, on a call. And Zane was in the kitchen, helping himself to the barbecue I made.

I turned back for the stairs and hoped he hadn't seen me. He had.

"Why are you running, Ember?"

I froze halfway up. He came up behind me, slow and deliberate, his chest brushing my back. Heat rolled off him. His breath touched my neck.

"Colt's right outside," I whispered.

"Then tell me to stop."

His hand slid around and squeezed the tip of my nipple through the thin cotton. My legs shook. Heat rushed straight between my thighs. I could have turned. I could have said the word. Instead I pressed back against him, and his breath caught, just barely.

Then he let go. He picked his plate back up, walked to the guest room, and shut the door.

I gripped the banister, breathing hard. My panties were soaked all over again.

The back door opened. "Where's Prez?" Colt called.

"Guest room," I said, voice shaky.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

He nodded. "Food was good. You didn't forget Mom's recipe. Proud of you, sis."

The guilt landed in my chest like a stone. My brother was smiling at me, praising my cooking, while his best friend's fingerprints were still burning on my skin.

I forced a smile, went to my room, and shut the door harder than I meant to. Then I lay there trying not to think about the man down the hall who had touched me like he already owned me.