Page 24 of Knot So Sweet (Leather and Lace #1)

Chapter 23

Candi

S tay here? I scoffed, yea that wasn't going to happen. I arched a brow in challenge as I followed Ghost toward the oversized alphas, duking it out on the porch. There was no way I was missing whatever shitshow was brewing between the Steel Serpents' Prez and VP.

I winced as Viper’s fist connected with Gears' cheek, sending the drunk alpha stumbling backward into a potted plant. It was painfully clear Gears was outmatched.

Before things could spiral any further, Ghost shot forward, grabbing his father's cut and yanking him back, like he was wrangling a wild animal.

"What the fuck is going on?" Ghost demanded, his voice tight with frustration as he shook his father slightly.

"Ask your fucking prez what the fuck happened today," Gears slurred. "We failed again!"

Ghost's chest deflated as his gaze flicked over to Viper. My mind was racing, questions swirling. What the hell had they failed?

I shifted my focus to Viper, who stood there, chest heaving slightly from exertion, but looking like he hadn’t taken a single hit.

It was unsettling—an eerie calm after the storm. He was composed, far too composed for someone fresh out of a fight. His dark eyes met mine, but the look in them wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t anger. He looked... guilty. A storm of pain and regret.

Guilty of what?

My stomach coiled into knots, anxiety pooling in my chest. I didn’t like seeing Viper like this, haunted by something I couldn’t name. I wanted to soothe that look off his face, to reach out and make it disappear.

Patience wasn’t my strong suit, and this tense silence was wearing thin. I couldn’t stay silent any longer.

"Failed what?" Taking a tentative step onto the porch, I barely had time to react before Gears’ hand landed roughly on my shoulder.

"This is your fault, bitch . If Viper wasn’t so distracted by pussy , we wouldn’t have failed!" Gears spat, his breath reeking of booze, the sour stench of liquor and rage rolling off him in waves. Spittle landed on my cheek, and the insult hit like a slap, his meaty fingers dug into my arm with bruising force.

Again.

That was it. I was done with this alphahole manhandling me like this. This time I didn't come unarmed. My fingers itched toward the knife I kept on me, and I was ready to gut him if he didn’t let go. But before I could even make the threat, both Ghost and Viper unleashed deep, primal growls—low and dangerous, vibrating in the air between us.

Viper moved like lightning. One second, Gears was towering over me, and the next, Viper had his hand wrapped around Gears' throat, his grip unyielding, like a vice.

"Let her go. Now." Viper’s voice was lethal, his calm gone, replaced with a deadly edge. "I don’t give a fuck if you’re my VP. You lay a hand on what’s mine again, and I will kill you." He tightened his grip for emphasis.

Gears choked, his face turning a dark purple as he gasped for air. His hand dropped from me like I was on fire, but Viper wasn’t finished. His grip only tightened, and I stood there, breath caught in my throat, as Gears’ knees buckled. His eyes bulged, panic settling in as he fought to breathe.

My chest pounded, each thump echoing the tension swirling around us, but Viper—he didn’t even break a sweat. His control was terrifying, the sheer dominance rolling off him in waves that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. When he finally released Gears, the alpha collapsed, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I would find it funny if it weren't for what Viper said playing on an endless loop in my head.

His. He’d said I was his .

And hell, if my body didn’t respond to that word like a drug. Slick pooled between my thighs, and I shifted uncomfortably, the ache building in a way that left me dizzy. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did that turn me on?

I didn't belong to anyone .

Viper stepped in front of me, blocking Gears from view, his back to me now. The wind picked up, carrying his scent—whiskey, leather, and something distinctly him—straight into my lungs, and I almost moaned at the way it filled my senses. It was intoxicating. Too much. Too good.

I licked my lips, tasting Ghost still lingering there, but it was Viper that had my attention now, his presence seeping into every corner of my mind. I shot a glance at Ghost, his eyes locked on his father, watching him struggle to recover, but I couldn’t focus on that. Not when the heat inside me was spreading, tightening in my core, pushing me to the edge.

My heat.

"Fuck," I murmured.

My breath hitched, my thighs pressing together as if that would somehow stop the overwhelming need building inside me.

I clenched my fists, trying to stay grounded, but every inch of me was burning up. The way Viper stood there, so unshaken, so deadly in his protection of me—it only made it worse.

Only made me want to submit to him more.

I swallowed hard, but nothing I did could push down the heat that was slowly consuming me. I needed to get away from them. Somehow push down my heat just a little bit longer. Maybe I could from sheer will alone.

I shook my head and focused on Gears. Right now he was the safer option of the three alphas crowded on this porch.

He was standing now, his face inches from Ghost's. His shoulder was clearly hurting him by the way he was favoring it, and again, guilt burned bright in my chest.

Was that why Viper looked so guilty? Was he too responsible for someone he cared about getting hurt? My breath hitched again.

I just admitted to myself I cared for Ghost. Didn't I?

"Fuck this shit," Gears slurred as he took off down the dirt road.

For a moment both alphas stood at my back. I was so aware of their proximity the hairs on the back of my neck pricked with awareness. My nipples hardened to diamonds, heavy and aching to be touched.

"What are you doing here, Candice?"

The sound of my name on his lips hit me like a physical blow, my knees buckling as the scent of him—whiskey, leather, and pure alpha dominance—wrapped around me.

My breath caught in my throat, and I clenched my jaw tightly, trying to keep some semblance of control. But his presence was too much, and I could feel my body teetering on the edge of something dangerous. Something primal.

And I wasn’t sure I had the strength to stop it.

Squaring my shoulders, I turned to face Viper, his onyx eyes zeroing in on mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. There were so many reasons why I was here, so many words I could say, but none of them felt like enough. The weight of everything—my heat, Ghost, the chaos of the night—it was suffocating. I opened my mouth, desperate to say something, anything that made sense.

"Pixie said your club had a doctor?" I found myself asking, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.

His brows furrowed, the concern evident in the way his eyes softened, but his posture stayed rigid. He took a step forward, scanning me from head to toe as if looking for an injury.

"Where are you hurt, baby?" His voice was low, rough, and full of worry. The endearment made my heart stutter, and for a moment, I almost forgot why I’d asked in the first place.

I shook my head quickly. "Not me." His gaze held mine, and I saw his shoulders sag, just a fraction, before the tension returned to his body. "Ghost."

Viper’s jaw tightened, the calm from earlier replaced with something darker. Without hesitation, he turned to Ghost, his stance protective. "What happened?"

Ghost’s mossy green eyes flicked to mine briefly before he spoke. "Hounds. They demanded payment. I got hit with a bat. I’m fine." His words were clipped, casual, as if the whole thing was nothing but a minor inconvenience.

But I knew better.

My eyes pricked with tears, the familiar burn of emotions I’d been fighting to keep down. He could’ve told Viper more. Could’ve exposed the nightmare I was running from, told him everything about Travis and his goons. He could’ve made me look weak, vulnerable—something I was terrified of showing in front of these alphas. But he didn’t. Ghost kept my secret, even when he didn’t have to.

I broke eye contact first, my chest tightening, and pulled Ghost’s jacket tighter around me. His familiar pine scent wrapped around me like a protective cocoon, grounding me in a way nothing else could. But no matter how tightly I held it to me, I couldn’t shake the storm brewing inside. The heat, the desire, the fear—all of it crashing down at once.

And I didn’t know how much longer I could hold it together. And I was starting to believe that maybe Ghost was right and I did need them. That I needed a pack to pick up the shattered pieces I couldn't seem to carry by myself anymore.