Chapter 3 Ember

Ember POV

My eyes flickered open, and my thighs were already slick and sticky from dreams that wouldn't let go.

Zane's hand squeezing my nipple through the nightie. His breath burning my neck. The way I'd leaned back into him like an idiot, and the way he'd walked off like it was nothing.

I groaned and rolled over, pressing my face into the pillow. I was supposed to be thinking about today, not last night.

Colt had said I'd join Max at the bar. Good. At least I wasn't being shoved into the pack clinic with its strict rules and white coats. Bar life suited me better. Loud, chaotic, free.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Hot water poured over my skin and I scrubbed until it stung, trying to wash off the memory of his stare through the cracked door. It clung to me like smoke. Stupid. Pathetic.

Why was I even thinking about someone so off-limits? Prez Zane. Colt's best friend. The man who made the rule that no one touches an officer's family. I couldn't have him.

Please let that stick in my brain this time.

I wrapped a towel around me and opened the wardrobe. My break was only two weeks, so I hadn't brought much, and everything in here was from before I left. Short, tight, perfect.

I pulled out a cropped top that stopped mid-stomach and black romper shorts that barely covered my ass. Colt wasn't going to see this without a fight. I slid on a thin strapless bra so my nipples wouldn't announce me to the whole clubhouse, then threw an oversized jacket over everything. He wouldn't know until it was too late.

Lip gloss on. Boots zipped. Ready to light the place up.

Downstairs, Colt was already at the table with his coffee.

"Morning, bro." I smiled sweetly.

He opened his arms and motioned me over for a hug.

I froze for half a second. We didn't do that. But I stepped in anyway, and his arms wrapped around me too tight. He smelled like leather and gun oil.

"You look beautiful, sis." He pulled back to look at me, his eyes lingering a little too long on the jacket. "Really beautiful."

"Thanks." I forced a smile.

"I made tacos. Yours is in the kitchen," he said, beaming.

The words hit softer than I expected. Nostalgic. Warm.

I grabbed my plate and sat across from him. We ate in silence for a minute.

"What about Prez?" I asked, as casually as I could manage.

"Went back to his mansion early this morning. Had things to sort out."

"Oh." I focused on my food. My stomach flipped anyway.

Colt finished fast. "I'm heading out. You coming on the bike?"

"Yeah. Let me wash these."

I cleaned up, grabbed my shoulder bag and met him outside, where he was already revving the Harley. I climbed on behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. The engine roared, the wind whipped my red hair loose, and the speed lit up every nerve I had. I grinned into his back.

I love bikes. I'm getting one soon. Light pink. Call me a baby, but Colt had better not hear about it.

We pulled up to the clubhouse and it looked bigger than I remembered. Fresh paint, extra lights, more bikes lined up like soldiers. More money, more power.

Colt parked under a tree and leaned back on the seat. I slid off.

"Ember, wait."

I turned.

"You know how this place is." His voice was low. Serious. "Stay low. Stay close to Max. I've already told him the rules. Don't wait tables, don't leave the counter. Thank God you're wearing something decent."

"And I don't want to hear about you flirting with anyone, or anyone flirting with you. Clear?"

Heat crept into my face. "Why are you lecturing me like I'm five? Do I look like a kid to you? I thought you'd changed."

"Ember!" His eyes flashed with fury, and something darker under it. "You'll do what I say. I know why I'm protecting you. Because I have to."

"Then stop protecting me!" I snapped. "Those days are gone, Colt. You think I'm still the dumb kid who listens to everything you say? To hell with that. I'm an adult. I can do whatever I want. Don't you get it?"

He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "You'll do what I say, Ember, or you go back home."

I hissed, turned, and walked away. Let him ride off alone.

The second the Harley faded, I shrugged off the jacket. Cropped top, romper shorts, midriff bare, thighs out, curves on full display. Badass.

I pushed open the huge mahogany door. The clubhouse smelled different now: whiskey, leather, and old money drifting up from the casino tables in the back. Strippers were already on the poles even though it was barely noon. Some people's job, I guess.

I headed for the bar and found it empty.

"Damn, Emmie, is that you?"

I spun around. Max. Older now, with a thin scar through one eyebrow, but the same goofy grin. I squealed and hugged him tight.

"Girl, you look amazing!" he said, pulling back. "Guess college wasn't that harsh on you?"

I laughed. "Not harsh. Trust me, a Silverado girl knows how to survive."

"Your brother said you'd be working with me. Pleased to have you, ma'am."

"Stop it, Max. It's still Ember. Come on."

"Ember? No way. The Ember standing here is a full-grown, gorgeous woman. Damn. Very pretty."

I smiled. "Thanks. You got more handsome too. Everybody changed. Even the clubhouse looks different."

"You've been gone a long time. What did you expect?"

He showed me around. Where the drinks were kept, the price tags, how the till worked. I nodded at every word.

"Sorry I didn't get you something cool to drink," he said.

"Don't worry, I ate before I came. I'm good."

He leaned on the counter. "So how's college life as a finalist?"

"Stressful, but good. This break is just to loosen up my spine, you know?"

He nodded. "Then I'll make sure you don't stress here. You can ease off all that tension before you go back."

He gave me a reassuring smile, and I laughed. Max had always been a good friend, ever since we were kids.

By evening the bar was filling. Music thumped, brothers laughed, and I poured shots, swayed my hips and took every compliment like it was mine. Prospects flirted. I played along with light smiles and quick comebacks. It felt good to be seen.

Then I felt it. Eyes on me. Heavy, hot, hungry.

I looked up. Prez Zane.

He leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed, the PREZ patch bold on his cut. Gold flecks in his eyes. He stared like he was already inside me.

My core clenched. My nipples tightened under the strapless bra. Fuck. Not again.

He pushed off the wall and walked straight to the bar. The brothers parted for him like water.

He stopped in front of me and leaned over the counter, close enough that I could smell leather, smoke and wolf. His right knuckles were split and scabbed.

"Whiskey, make it Neat."

I poured with shaky hands. Our fingers brushed when I slid the glass across, and a jolt shot up my arm and settled between my thighs.

His eyes dropped to my chest, then lower, lingering on my bare midriff and the shorts hugging my ass. He didn't smile. He didn't speak. He just stared.

I smirked. "Anything else, Prez?"

His voice came low and rough. "Careful how you move in that outfit, little sister."

My breath caught.

He straightened, turned, and walked toward the meeting room. I watched him go on trembling legs, ruined for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Max leaned over. "You good, Em?"

"Yeah," I lied. "Just feeling the new vibes and energy of the clubhouse."

Through the meeting room door I could hear Zane's voice, deep and commanding. The pack was gathering. Colt would be there soon.

I poured another shot, hands still shaking.

I wasn't fine. And I wasn't going to be fine until Zane stopped fighting it and took what we both wanted.