Page 13 of Claimed By the Bikers (Black Wolves MC #4)

ATLAS

The phone slips from her fingers and hits the dirt as she spins around, green eyes wide with shock and something that might be guilt.

She’s beautiful standing there in the afternoon sun, hair catching the light, wearing the Wolf’s Den T-shirt that marks her as ours. Beautiful and caught red-handed trying to betray us.

“Atlas.” My name comes out breathless, like I’ve knocked the air from her lungs just by existing. “I was just—”

“Just what?” I step closer, noting how she doesn’t back away despite the obvious fear in her eyes. Two weeks of living with us has trained her not to run, even when every instinct probably screams at her to bolt. “Taking a walk? Getting some fresh air?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, apparently realizing that any lie she tells will only make this worse.

I bend down and pick up the phone, noting the message screen still open, a number saved as “Ben” displayed at the top. Rico mentioned this person—her handler.

My jaw clenches as I scan the empty text box. She hadn’t sent anything yet, but the intent was clear.

“Two weeks,” I say quietly, pocketing the device. “Two weeks of sharing our home, our beds, our lives. And this is what you do with that trust?”

“It’s not what you think—”

“Isn’t it?” I close the distance between us until she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes.

“Because it looks like our little houseguest was about to report on tonight’s shipment.

Looks like all that sweet compliance was just an act while you waited for the right moment to stab us in the back. ”

Color flares in her cheeks, and I can see the moment she decides to fight rather than flee. “You kidnapped me. You forced me to live with you, to sleep in your bed, to pretend I’m your willing girlfriend. What did you expect?”

“I expected you to be smarter than this.” My hand shoots out, gripping her chin and forcing her to hold my gaze. “I expected you to realize that running isn’t an option anymore!”

“I’m not your property!”

My thumb strokes across her lower lip, and I feel the shiver that runs through her despite her defiant words. “Your body seems to think otherwise, Natalie. You’re leaning into my touch instead of pulling away.”

She jerks her head back, breaking contact. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” I grab her wrist, pressing her palm flat against my chest. “Feel that? That’s what betrayal does to a man. That’s what it feels like to trust someone who’s planning to destroy everything you’ve built.”

Her hand tries to pull away, but I hold it firm against my heartbeat. I want her to feel the anger, the hurt, the raw fury that comes from believing someone might actually choose us only to discover it was all performance.

“I never asked for this,” she whispers. “I never asked to be torn between my job and…and whatever this is.”

“No, you didn’t ask for it. But you have it anyway. And now you get to live with the consequences of trying to throw it away.”

Before she can respond, I’m moving. My hands grip her waist, lifting her off the ground and carrying her toward the large oak tree where she hid the phone.

She struggles briefly, but not with the desperate panic of someone truly afraid.

More like someone who knows she’s about to be punished and isn’t sure she wants to stop it.

“Atlas, wait—”

“No more waiting.” I press her back against the rough bark, caging her in with my arms. “No more games, no more pretending. You want me to remind you what happens when you try to betray us? Let me show you.”

My mouth crashes down on hers, hard and claiming and completely without mercy.

When she tries to turn her head away, I follow, deepening the kiss until she’s gasping against my lips.

“You’re mine,” I growl against her mouth. “All of ours. That doesn’t change because you get scared and try to run.”

“I’m not—” She breaks off when my hands find the hem of her shirt, pushing it up to expose the smooth skin of her stomach. “We can’t do this here. Someone might see.”

“Let them see.” My fingers work at the button of her jeans, popping it open. “Let them see exactly what happens to women who think they can play games with the Bishop brothers.”

She laughs softly, a sound that’s half-nervous, half-excited, and it’s all the permission I need.

I unzip her jeans with a slow, deliberate motion.

She doesn’t stop me; instead, she helps, shimmying her hips to let the denim slide down her thighs, pooling around her ankles.

The scrap of cotton she calls underwear follows, and the sight of her exposed skin in the open air sends a jolt through me.

“Atlas,” she says, her voice a mix of plea and invitation. She steps closer, her hands finding my shoulders, fingers digging in as she presses herself against me. “Don’t make me wait.”

Her eagerness fuels my own, but the anger still lingers, a sharp edge to my desire.

I spin her around, guiding her hands to the rough bark of the oak tree.

She doesn’t resist, pressing her palms flat against the trunk, arching her back to push her hips toward me.

The sight of her, willing and wanton, nearly undoes me.

Her body remembers what her mind is trying to deny. Remembers how good it feels to belong to us, to be claimed and protected and thoroughly possessed.

I work at my belt, freeing myself with hands that shake slightly from anger and arousal.

“Two weeks I’ve watched you bloom under our attention.

Watched you laugh at Garrett’s terrible jokes, watched you blush when Silas speaks French in your ear, watched you come apart in our hands like you were made for it. ”

“Stop talking,” she breathes, pressing her forehead against the bark.

“And now you want to throw all of that away for what? A job that sees you as expendable? An agency that sent you here knowing you might not come home?” I position myself behind her, letting her feel exactly how much her betrayal affects me.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I think you need a reminder of what you’d be giving up. ”

I enter her in one hard thrust, and the sound she makes is pure sin. Her body welcomes me despite everything, slick and ready like she’s been thinking about this as much as I have. Like the adrenaline of almost getting caught has turned her on as much as it has me.

“Fuck, yes!” she gasps, hands scrambling for purchase against the tree. “Atlas—”

“That’s right. Say my name.” I set a punishing rhythm, claiming her with every stroke. “Say the name of the man who’s going to make sure you never even think about running again.”

She tries to stay quiet, tries to maintain some dignity, but I know exactly how to break down her defenses. My hand slides around to find the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs, stroking in time with my thrusts until she’s shaking against me.

“Tell me you’re ours,” I demand, biting down on the curve of her shoulder. “Tell me this is where you belong.”

“I can’t—” The words break off in a moan as I hit that spot that makes her see stars.

“You can and you will.” I increase the pressure of my fingers, driving her higher. “Because if you try to leave us again, if you even think about betraying us, I will hunt you down and bring you back. And next time, I won’t be nearly so gentle about reminding you where you belong.”

The threat pushes her over the edge. She comes with a cry that echoes across the empty racetrack, her body clenching around me like she’s trying to keep me inside her forever. The feeling of her falling apart triggers my own release, and I bury myself deep as I fill her with evidence of my claim.

We stay like that for several minutes, both breathing hard, skin slick with sweat despite the cool air. When I finally pull away, she slumps against the tree like her legs won’t hold her anymore.

“Get dressed,” I tell her, tucking myself back into my jeans and fastening my belt.

She turns around slowly, green eyes glazed with satisfaction and something that might be shame. “Atlas—”

“Get dressed, Ember. We’re going home.”

She pulls on her clothes with shaking hands, and I try not to notice how thoroughly fucked she looks. Hair mussed, lips swollen, the scent of sex clinging to her skin. When we walk back into that house, my brothers will know exactly what happened out here.

The walk back to town is silent except for the crunch of gravel under our feet. She keeps pace beside me, not trying to lag behind or race ahead. Accepting her fate with the same grace she showed when she stopped fighting that first night.

“Why?” she asks as we approach the restaurant.

“Why what?”

“Why not just let me go? Why fight so hard to keep someone who obviously doesn’t want to be kept?”

I stop walking and turn to face her, noting the genuine confusion in her expression. After everything we’ve shared, everything we’ve given her, she still doesn’t understand.

“Because you do want to be kept,” I tell her simply. “You’re just too scared to admit it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because if you really wanted to leave, you would have sent that message before I got there. You had the phone, you had the opportunity.” I reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But you hesitated. And that hesitation tells me everything I need to know about what you really want.”

She stares at me for a long moment, then looks away. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

“And if I try to run again?”

“Then I’ll catch you again. And next time, I’ll make sure you can’t sit down for a week.”

A flush creeps up her neck at the promise, and I see her press her thighs together unconsciously. Damn.

As we head home, I text the restaurant so they know Ember’s off for the rest of the day, making sure they’ve got it covered.

We climb the steps to the house, and I can already hear voices from the kitchen.

Garrett and Silas are home early, probably wondering where we disappeared to. They’re about to get their answer.

I open the front door and guide Ember inside with a hand on the small of her back. She walks like someone who’s been thoroughly claimed, and I’m primitive enough to take satisfaction in that.

“There you are,” Garrett calls from the kitchen. “We were starting to wonder—” He stops mid-sentence when he sees us, taking in Ember’s rumpled appearance and my possessive posture behind her.

Silas appears in the doorway, green eyes immediately cataloging the same details. “Everything alright?”

“Just fine,” I reply, steering Ember toward the stairs. “Our girl needed a reminder about the consequences of bad decisions.”

“What kind of bad decisions?” Garrett’s voice carries a warning edge.

“The kind that involve hidden phones and federal handlers.”

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Silas goes completely still, while Garrett’s hands clench into fists at his sides.

“Is that so?” Silas asks quietly.

“It is. But don’t worry. I think she understands the situation much better now.” I look down at Ember, who’s staring at the floor like she wishes it would swallow her. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

She nods without looking up.

“Good. Then we don’t need to discuss it further.” I guide her toward the stairs. “We’ll be in my room. Try not to disturb us for the next few hours.”