Page 18

I woke to the gentle rumble of Diesel's snoring at the foot of the bed. Duke had already slipped out, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne on the sheets and a hollow space that still held his warmth.

One week.

I'd been living in Duke's apartment above King's Tavern for exactly one week. Seven days of safety that felt both eternal and fleeting, like a dream I wasn't sure I deserved.

Light filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting soft stripes across the worn hardwood floor. No blaring alarm. No fists pounding on doors. No Jesse.

I was still kind of trapped in the apartment, which had started to feel a little restrictive, but overall, life was much better than it had been a few weeks ago.

I stretched beneath the covers, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from Duke's gentle but thorough attention the night before. My fingers traced the faint bruise on my hip where his grip had tightened in passion, not anger. The difference still startled me sometimes.

We still hadn’t had sex yet. Duke was absolutely resolute that we needed to take things slowly. I appreciated it, but it was getting harder and harder to resist, harder to stop myself as we kissed, as he touched my skin, as I felt his hungry hands grip my soft flesh.

Diesel raised his massive head, his chocolate eyes blinking sleepily at me before he yawned, pink tongue curling. I scratched behind his ears, earning a contented groan.

"Just us today, big guy," I whispered.

I slid from beneath the blankets and padded to the bathroom, Diesel's nails clicking on the floor behind me. In the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. I looked ten years younger than I had a month ago. My eyes shone with hope.

Duke had been up early, I realized. The coffee pot was half-empty, his Heavy Kings journal open on the kitchen counter with his meticulous handwriting covering the page. Club business, then. I'd learned not to ask about certain things, not because Duke would get angry like Jesse would, but because he wanted to protect me from anything that might make me a target.

And I was already a target.

I sipped from Duke's abandoned coffee cup, grimacing at the bitter blackness, and let my thoughts wander to the date. One week. It might not seem a lot, but to me, it felt momentous. Maybe I should mark it somehow. Not with flowers or chocolates—those weren't Duke's style. Something meaningful but subtle. Something that acknowledged what we were building without putting a spotlight on it.

That's when the idea struck me. A leather bracelet—something Duke could wear under his Heavy Kings cuff, something that would rest against his pulse point, a secret reminder of us. I remembered a little artisan shop on Main Street nearby. I’d spotted the place when I’d been desperately searching for a veterinarian.

My stomach knotted as I realized what this would mean. Going outside. Alone.

Rule number 7 echoed in my head: No leaving the apartment without checking in with Daddy.

It was a sensible rule, born from genuine concern for my safety. Jesse and the Serpents were still looking for me, still furious that I'd fled with knowledge of their operations, still determined to silence me. Duke wasn't trying to control me; he was trying to keep me alive.

But this was different. This was a surprise for Duke. I couldn't exactly ask him to take me to buy his own gift, could I?

I chewed my lower lip, torn between the desire to do something special and the fear of breaking Duke's trust. Maybe I could call Thor? But no, Thor would tell Duke. The whole club was fiercely protective of their president, and by extension, me.

"What do you think, Diesel?" I asked the dog, who cocked his head, ears perked. "Quick trip. In and out. No one would even know I was gone."

Diesel's expression remained doubtful. Smart dog.

I paced the apartment, weighing my options. The shop was only three blocks away. I could wear Duke's hoodie with the hood up. I'd be anonymous, just another person on the sidewalk. And I'd be back before anyone noticed.

The more I thought about it, the more my resolve hardened. I wanted—no, needed—to do this. After years of Jesse controlling my every move, using fear to keep me small and compliant, I needed to prove to myself that I could make my own choices.

Decision made, I pulled on jeans and borrowed one of Duke's hoodies, the fabric engulfing me in his scent. I tucked my hair up into a beanie and checked my reflection. Anonymous enough.

"I'll be right back," I promised Diesel, who whined softly as if he understood exactly what I was doing. "Be a good boy and keep our secret."

I grabbed my phone and my secret cash stash, then hesitated. Should I leave a note? No—that would just announce my disobedience. Better to be back before Duke returned from his meeting.

Heart pounding, I slipped out the back staircase that led down to the alley behind King's Tavern. The midmorning air carried the scent of pine from the surrounding mountains, crisp and clean after last night's brief rain. Main Street was busy enough that I'd blend in but not so crowded that I'd get trapped.

I kept my head down, hood up, eyes constantly scanning for the telltale leather cuts of the Iron Serpents. Every motorcycle that passed made my pulse spike. A flash of a snake tattoo on a stranger's arm had me ducking into a doorway, breath caught in my throat, before I realized it was a harmless garden snake design, not the venomous emblem of Jesse's MC.

The walk felt endless, though it couldn't have been more than ten minutes. By the time I reached the jewelry shop, my palms were slick with sweat and my heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to escape.

A bell tinkled overhead as I pushed open the door. The shop was empty except for an older woman behind the counter, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun, her fingers adorned with the evidence of her craft—rings of all shapes and designs.

"Can I help you, dear?" she asked, her voice warm and welcoming.

I lowered my hood, suddenly self-conscious about how suspicious I must look. "I'm looking for a leather bracelet. Something simple but meaningful. A gift."

She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "For someone special, I'm guessing? We have some lovely pieces." She gestured to a display case filled with handcrafted bracelets.

"Actually," I said, gaining confidence, "I was hoping for something custom. With initials."

"Of course. We can do that. Did you have a design in mind?"

I described what I wanted—a braided leather band, slim enough to be comfortable under Duke's heavy cuff, with a simple message I’d decided on written on.

The woman—Martha, according to her name tag—sketched as I spoke, her pencil flying across the paper. When she turned it to show me, my breath caught. It was perfect.

"Can you make it today?" I asked, glancing nervously at the door.

Martha's eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps catching my anxiety, but she nodded. "Give me an hour. I've got the materials ready."

I paid from my secret stash and waited in the store. Every minute felt like an eternity, my phone clutched in my hand, checking repeatedly for texts from Duke.

When Martha finally called me back in, presenting the finished bracelet in a small box, the relief nearly buckled my knees. It was beautiful—dark leather braided intricately, with the words, “My hero” worked into the pattern.

"He's a lucky man," Martha said as she wrapped it in simple brown paper. "Whoever he is."

I blushed, tucking the package securely under my arm. "Thank you."

Back on the street, I pulled my hood up again and hurried toward King's Tavern, the small package feeling like a burning coal against my side. I'd done it. I'd gone out, gotten Duke a meaningful gift, and was heading back safely. Pride bloomed in my chest, mingling with the lingering anxiety.

Just a few more blocks and I'd be home.

I quickened my pace, imagining Duke's face when he saw the bracelet, hoping he'd understand why I'd risked breaking his rule. That this wasn't about defiance but about connection, about marking the beginning of something precious and rare.

But when I got back to the apartment, of course, Duke was waiting for me.

I froze in the doorway, package clutched against my chest like a shield. Daddy stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed over his broad chest, the Heavy Kings president ring glinting dully on his finger. Thor loomed by the window, his bulk blocking the light, expression thunderous. The silence in the apartment felt like a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders.

Diesel padded over, nudging at my hand with his cold nose. Even the dog seemed to sense the tension crackling in the air.

"Where were you?" Duke's voice was quiet, measured, but I caught the undercurrent of fury beneath his controlled tone. This wasn't his president voice—the one he used at the club. This was something deeper, more personal.

I swallowed hard, the excitement I'd felt about my surprise curdling into dread in my stomach. "I went to Main Street," I admitted, my own voice small. "I wanted to get you something."

Duke's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble. "You went outside. Alone?" Not a question. A statement of fact, heavy with disapproval.

Thor shifted his weight, drawing my attention. His knuckles were white where he gripped the windowsill.

"After everything we've discussed about the Serpents," Duke continued, each word deliberate and precise. "Do you understand what could've happened?"

I flinched, not from fear that he would hurt me, but from the realization of how my actions must have appeared to him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, clutching the package tighter. "I didn't think—"

"That's right, you didn't think," Thor growled, cutting me off. "We've been out of our minds, kid. Duke was about to call in every patch in a thirty-mile radius to find you."

Duke shot him a look, and Thor clamped his mouth shut, though his massive arms remained crossed over his chest.

My eyes stung with unshed tears. Not because they were yelling—they weren't—but because I'd caused this worry. These men who had taken me in, protected me when the Serpents were hunting me, and I'd repaid them with carelessness.

"It was our one-week living together anniversary," I said, the words sounding pathetically inadequate even to my own ears. "I wanted to surprise you with a gift. I didn't want to ruin it by asking permission."

Something flickered across Duke's face—surprise, perhaps, at the mention of an anniversary. Then his expression softened slightly, though the concern remained etched in the lines around his eyes.

I held out the carefully wrapped package, my hand trembling. "Here," I said. "It's for you."

He stopped a few feet away, maintaining a careful distance. "Mia," he said, my name a rough caress on his lips. "This isn't about a gift. This is about your safety."

"I know," I said, lowering the package to my side. "I know that now."

"Do you?" Duke's blue eyes searched mine, intense and unwavering. "Because from where I'm standing, you put yourself in direct danger for the sake of a one week anniversary."

I bristled at that, a flare of defensiveness igniting in my chest. "It's important. I wanted to show you how much this week has meant to me."

Thor made a sound somewhere between a snort and a grunt. "Could've shown that by staying put where you were safe," he muttered.

Duke shot him another look, and Thor threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll wait outside. But this conversation ain't over." He stalked past me, deliberately giving me a wide berth, and slammed the door behind him.

Alone with Duke, the tension shifted. The air felt charged, electric with unspoken emotions.

"I know it’s been quiet for the past few days, but the Serpents are still looking for you," Duke said, his voice softer now but no less serious. "Do you understand what that means?"

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I did understand.

"Yes," I whispered. "I understand."

"Then why?" Duke spread his hands, genuine confusion etched on his face. "Why risk it?"

I took a deep breath, struggling to put into words the tangle of emotions that had driven me. "Because after Jesse, I needed to know I could still make choices. Still do something spontaneous and kind without . . ." My voice faltered. "Without always having to ask permission."

Duke's expression shifted, understanding dawning. "This wasn't about defying me," he said slowly. "This was about reclaiming something he took from you."

I nodded, grateful he could see what I couldn't fully articulate.

"But Mia," he continued, taking a step closer, "that doesn't change the reality of the danger you put yourself in. The Serpents are everywhere in Ironridge. If they'd spotted you—"

"But they didn't," I countered.

Duke's jaw tightened. "As far as you know, they didn’t. Maybe you got lucky," he said. "But luck isn't protection. That's why we have rules. Not to box you in, but to keep you safe until this threat passes."

My mind flashed back to Jesse, to his rules that had nothing to do with protection and everything to do with control. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't ever leave the house without permission. Don't look other men in the eye. Rules designed to strip away my personhood, to reduce me to a possession.

Duke's rules were different. They came from a place of love and respect. Plus, I’d agreed to them, specifically.

Diesel nudged at both our hands as if trying to mediate, and I felt my defensiveness melting into genuine regret.

"I understand," I said quietly. "And there should be consequences."

Duke's eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised by my words. "What kind of consequences did you have in mind?"

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was the moment of truth, the culmination of a week of gradually revealing my needs to this man who seemed to see me more clearly than anyone ever had.

"The kind we . . . discussed," I said, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. "A real spanking. I need to know what it's like when it's done properly—when it's not about destroying me, but about guiding me."

Duke's eyes widened fractionally, the only sign of his surprise.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Duke asked, his voice dropping to that deeper register that sent shivers across my skin. "We have other options. We could talk it out, set additional boundaries—"

"No," I said, more firmly now. "I'm sure. I need this." I met his gaze, willing him to understand what I couldn't fully express—that this was about trust as much as consequences, about proving to myself that I could surrender control to someone without fearing they would abuse it.

Duke studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement. "All right," he said. "But not right now. Not when emotions are running high."

Relief and apprehension tangled in my chest. "When?"

"Later today. After we've both had time to cool down and think clearly." Duke's tone made it clear this wasn't negotiable. "Right now, I need to check in with the prospects watching the perimeter and make sure no one followed you back here."

I nodded, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline of my little adventure and the subsequent confrontation drained away.

Duke moved toward the door, then paused, glancing at the package still clutched in my hand. "Keep that safe," he said softly. "I'll open it when the time is right."

He stepped out onto the small balcony that overlooked the back alley, cell phone already in hand, leaving me standing in the living room with the gift still held tightly in my trembling fingers.

I sank onto the couch, Diesel immediately climbing up beside me, his warm bulk a comfort against my side. The dog rested his massive head on my lap, brown eyes gazing up at me with what looked remarkably like concern.

"I messed up, didn't I?" I whispered to him, scratching behind his ears.

Diesel whined softly, pressing closer.

Through the glass door, I could see Duke on the balcony, his broad back to me, phone to his ear. His posture was tense, shoulders rigid as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. Probably Thor, or maybe Wiz, the club's tech guru who had helped set up surveillance around King's Tavern after I'd arrived.

I couldn't help the flutter of nerves in my stomach. Not because I feared Duke would hurt me—I knew with bone-deep certainty that he wouldn't—but because I was offering up a vulnerability that Jesse had exploited and twisted.

Through the glass, I saw Duke end his call and stand for a moment, looking out over the alley below, his profile sharp against the clear sky. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a rare gesture of frustration from a man who prided himself on control.

I'd scared him today, I realized with a pang. By disappearing without a word, I'd triggered the protective instincts that were as much a part of him as his Heavy Kings tattoos.