Page 20 of Edge (Redline Kings MC #4)

EDGE

T he ride back to the clubhouse felt longer than it was. My Harley hummed steadily beneath me, the thrum vibrating through my bones. But the adrenaline hadn’t drained yet. It was never quick.

Hours after the warehouse, after the screaming, the blood, and the way my knife had sung, my body still pulsed like a live wire.

I could smell the iron drying on my skin beneath the leather of my cut, could feel the sting of scrapes where fists or boots had found me in the chaos.

Every bruise pulsed in rhythm with my heart.

I’d washed most of the gore from my hands in a small bathroom before we left, but you never really washed it all off.

The smell stuck. The taste stayed, caught in the back of your throat no matter how many times you swallowed.

The warehouse was quiet now, but the storm of it still thundered in my chest.

And under it, darker and heavier, was the worry.

Not about me. Never about me.

About her.

Callie had seen me at my worst. Not just the blood or the bodies.

She’d seen the smile. The one that pulled wrong at my mouth, tilted and sharp as a blade. The grin I wore when I let the sadistic fucker inside me off the leash.

I didn’t know if she’d be able to look at me the same way after that.

Every bump in the road jarred me back into the thought of her blue eyes, wide and terrified, not at them—but at me.

The psycho edge had burned bright tonight, and I hadn’t fought it.

I’d embraced it. Enjoyed it. That was the part that gnawed at me as I rode under the empty stretch of Florida sky, the salty air thick and damp.

The clubhouse loomed ahead, its lights a steady glow against the dark. The bikes already lined out front told me the boys had made it back before me. I cut the engine, and the sudden silence rang in my ears, broken only by the soft tick of cooling pipes.

Kane was by the bar, a tumbler in hand, his beard shadowing his expression as he looked me over.

“Scraped up,” he muttered, his green eyes sharp. “But still breathing.”

“Always.” My voice came out rough as I walked to him, unzipping my cut and feeling the blood-stiff leather shift against my shoulders.

He studied me for a long beat, that brother-to-brother silence loaded with everything words couldn’t cover. He’d seen the switch flip in me tonight. He’d let it happen. He knew what it cost.

“You came back,” he said finally.

“Yeah.” I dragged a hand down my face, wincing at the sting from a shallow cut along my cheekbone. “But I don’t know if she’s gonna want me after seeing that.”

Kane’s jaw worked, his thumb tapping once against his glass. Then he shook his head, a short, sure motion. “Callie is tougher than you give her credit for. She knew who you were before tonight, Edge. You just showed her how far you’ll go for her. That doesn’t scare the right woman—it brands her.”

My chest tightened. “And if she looks at me differently?”

He smirked, that slow dangerous twist of his mouth. “Then she doesn’t deserve you. But I’ve seen her eyes, brother. She’ll be waiting.”

The truth in his words settled something in me, enough that I could breathe again.

He clapped my shoulder once, the weight heavy and grounding. “Clean up. Then go to her.”

I left him there and headed down the hall.

The shower in the back bled rust and steam, but it was hot, and that was enough.

I scrubbed until my skin went raw, and the water circling the drain ran clear.

My reflection in the cracked mirror was all cuts and bruises, but I was me again. No blood. No ghosts clinging. Just me.

By the time I climbed the stairs, my hair was still damp, dripping onto the fresh shirt I’d pulled over clean jeans. My boots thudded heavy against the floor as I neared my room.

I pushed the door open—and froze.

Callie stood in the middle of the room. Bare skin glowing under the soft lamp.

Bandages neat and white against her wrists, her split lip a slash of red.

And over her shoulders, draped down to her hips, was leather.

My leather. The vest. Nothing else. Just her skin beneath it, smooth and golden, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs.

Slowly, she turned, and I double blinked. PROPERTY OF EDGE was stitched across her back in white thread as bold as a vow.

My breath locked in my lungs. The sight of her nearly knocked me to my knees, and my cock went rock hard in an instant, pressing against the denim like it wanted to rip free.

Heat slammed through me like a fist, every muscle in my body tightening with the raw, brutal need to claim what was already mine. My throat burned, but no words came.

She shifted, turning back around, nervous under my stare, her teeth catching her lip.

“I—Savannah gave it to me earlier.” Her voice trembled, shy but steady enough to hit me in the chest. “She thought…I should wait for you like this.” She glanced down, flushed pink. “I thought maybe you’d be upset. That it was too soon. That I shouldn’t…”

The growl ripped out of me before I could stop it.

Two strides, and I was on her, my hands cradling her face as my mouth crushed hers in a kiss that was half desperation, half salvation.

She gasped, fingers fisting in my shirt, and I kissed her harder, until she knew. Until she felt it in her bones.

When I finally pulled back, my forehead pressed to hers, my breath ragged, I rasped, “Upset? Baby, you look fucking unreal. You’re every fantasy I didn’t even know I had.”

Her eyes softened, wide and luminous, relief flooding through them. I slid my hands down, slow and reverent, following the line of leather until my palms curved over her bare hips. Skin and vest and nothing in between. My thumbs traced the dip of her waist, and I groaned, forehead pressing to hers.

“But there’s one thing missing,” I murmured, brushing my mouth against hers, savoring her trembling breath. “One more thing you need to make this perfect.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, confusion shining in their blue depths. “Missing…what?”

I pulled back, dragging her gently into the bedroom.

She followed, eyes shining, nervous but trusting.

I reached into the drawer beside my bed and pulled out the small velvet box that had been burning a hole there since a few days after she crashed into my bike.

I flipped it open, the diamond catching the lamplight, sharp and brilliant.

Her breath caught, her hand flying to her mouth.

Sliding the ring onto her trembling finger, I pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Now,” I whispered fiercely, “every motherfucker who looks at you will know you’re mine. Forever.”

Her tears spilled over, soft gasps breaking out of her chest as she whispered back, “Always yours, Tatum. Always. I love you.”

The sound of my name on her lips, paired with those words, undid me. I kissed her again, slower this time. Softer, pouring everything I had into it.

My hands skimmed her body like I was memorizing her all over again, touching her with the kind of reverence I’d never given anyone else. She shivered under me, arching into my palms, her body answering mine like it had been made for it.

I laid her back on the bed, the leather vest falling open as she sank into the sheets, her hair fanned out around her face.

My lips followed, pressing to every bruise, every mark, every place that had been hurt, as if I could erase them with devotion.

Her thighs parted for me, a soft sound breaking from her lips when my mouth trailed lower.

“Tatum,” she whispered, her breath hitching as my tongue circled, slow and savoring. Her hips trembled, hands clutching at the sheets, her body offering itself to me with every shiver.

I took my time, not with the hunger of before, but with worship. Every stroke meant to remind her she was safe, loved, cherished. When she came, her voice fractured on my name, her body arching into me like she couldn’t get close enough.

I climbed over her, sliding inside slowly, filling her inch by inch until we both moaned at the connection.

My forehead rested against hers, our breaths tangling, her hands clutching at my shoulders as I began to move.

Every thrust was deep and steady, claiming her in a way that went beyond skin and heat.

“You’re everything,” I whispered against her mouth, my voice breaking. “Everything, baby. My world. My heart. My future.”

“And you’re mine,” she murmured, her body clinging to mine, every movement an answer to my devotion.

“All of me.”

Her walls fluttered around me, pulling me deeper, and I groaned, holding back just to make it last, to give her everything she deserved.

When we came, it was together—her scream muffled against my mouth, my groan torn raw from my chest, both of us shaking apart in each other’s arms. I held her close, staying inside, kissing her tears away while the world slowly came back into focus.

The phone buzzed on the nightstand. I cursed under my breath, reaching for it, ready to rip whoever was calling a new one. But the name flashing across the screen made me pause. Cage.

I thumbed it on. “Better be important.”

“It is. Your girl’s blood test came in.” A beat of silence. Then, blunt as always, he said, “She’s pregnant.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. Then laughter tore out of me, wild and shocked, joy spilling over so fast, it felt like my chest might burst. I looked down at Callie—wide-eyed, tears brimming, hand pressed to her mouth again—and kissed her hard, rough with emotion.

“You hear that, baby?” I growled against her lips. “I knocked you up. Fast.” A grin cut across my face, smug and awed all at once. “Didn’t waste any fucking time, did I?”

She laughed through her tears, wrapping her arms around me tight, and for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what forever looked like.