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Page 16 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)

I’m relieved. At least she’s willing to share a meal, which is a step in the right direction. “Or I could help you cook?”

Her face softens, and she gives a slight nod, the tension between us easing just a little. The relief that washes over me is immediate. After the cookies, I wasn’t sure she could even cook a decent meal. And, looking at her thin frame, I’m pretty sure she could do with a hearty dinner.

I follow her into the kitchen, already feeling the pull of something deeper between us. It’s not just about the food. It’s about making sure she knows I’m here, whether she wants me here or not.

“What do you feel like?” Hannah asks, pulling open the freezer.

Peering inside, a bunch of pre-made meals in containers catch my eye. “Well prepared, huh?”

Hannah shrugs, her tone casual. “It’s just me and Grace, and I don’t always want to cook. So, I buy in bulk, cook up a bunch of meals, and freeze them. That way, there’s always something ready to eat.”

Picking up a container, I sniff it. “Chili?”

Hannah snatches it back, sniffing it herself. “How the hell did you know it was chili?”

Tapping the side of my nose, a smirk spreads across my face. “Good sense of smell.”

Her eyebrow arches, impressed, as she glances at me with a sly smile. “Well, I could reheat it if you like chili. Or cook something else?”

I pause, letting the tension hang in the air for a beat, my eyes narrowing mischievously. I lean in closer, voice low, enjoying the moment. “Do you have corn chips?”

“Duh!” Hannah laughs, the sound light and warm as if she’s known me a lifetime. “You can’t have chili without corn chips.”

I give a teasing smirk, leaning back slightly, my arms crossing as I lean against the counter. “You’d be surprised.”

Hannah’s laughter spills out again, her head tilting back slightly in amusement. “Well, not in my home.”

I watch her pull another container from the freezer, her movements confident and familiar.

She slides them both into the microwave with a quiet hum, the soft whirring of the appliance the only sound between us.

Wandering over to her cupboards, I open one and quickly scan the contents.

Finding bowls, I pull down two and open a drawer, taking out two spoons.

As I set the silverware on the table, I catch her staring at me from the corner of my eye. Her gaze lingers, an almost curious tilt to her lips as if she’s not sure what to make of me in her space.

I turn to face her, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

She shakes her head, her lips curling into that same amused smile, but there’s something softer in her eyes now, something almost unreadable. “I’ve never had a man set the table before.”

I can’t help the half-grin that tugs at my mouth. “There’s a first for everything.”

Her eyes flicker to me, full of quiet curiosity, and she adds, “You seem to be full of those.”

I can feel the weight of her words, so I shift slightly, making sure to keep the mood light. “How so?”

She holds up a hand, counting off the points with a quick gesture.

“I’ve never been towed before, never cooked cookies for a man before, had dinner with bikers.

..” She pauses, her fingers lingering for a moment before she looks down at the floor, her voice quieter when she continues.

“And more recently, I haven’t experienced men or people in general who don’t stare at my scar. ”

The air between us thickens, and I can feel the shift in her. It’s subtle, but it’s there, the way her shoulders slump slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of those words hangs heavily on her. Something inside me tightens. I don’t know what it is, but I want to make it go away.

I let the words hang between us for a moment, my voice steady but soft.

“Maybe it’s because we see the person inside and not just the packaging.

You don’t think we don’t get judged every time we roll into town?

The locals know who we are, but the tourists and outsiders either cross the street or avoid eye contact. ”

I can see the shift in her eyes, the way she’s processing what I’ve said. It’s rare I open up like this, but with her, something feels different. We’re both outsiders in our own way.

The microwave dings, breaking the tension, and she looks at me with a slight smile that I can’t quite decipher. “Saved by the bell.”

I chuckle, but it’s not entirely out of amusement.

It’s the relief of the moment passing, of something unspoken hanging there between us but not needing to be addressed.

She reaches for the microwave, and I watch as she pulls out the containers, still avoiding my gaze.

With a smile, she scoops the chili into the bowls.

“You forgot something,” I say, not missing a beat, just to pull her back from whatever thoughts she’s slipping into.

She looks up, blinking at me, confused for a second. “What?”

I flash her a grin, playing it up. “You promised corn chips, and do you have anything to drink besides coffee and tea?”

She stares at me for a moment, and then the tension cracks.

She laughs, a sound that’s easy and light, breaking the quiet.

“I haven’t forgotten the corn chips... hold your horses.

As for something to drink, my fridge is full of Pepsi Max, bubbles, and on the kitchen counter is a bottle of red wine. ”

“Bubbles?”

“Prosecco.”

“Pepsi Max it is.”

Hannah raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Funny, you look like a bubbles man.”

I scoff, pretending to be scandalized, and lean back slightly, hand over my heart. “Are you saying I’m soft?”

She grins, the spark of mischief in her eyes making it clear she’s enjoying the playful banter. “There are many things I could say about you, Blade, but soft isn’t one of them.”

Hannah opens a cupboard and throws a packet of corn chips at me, her aim spot on. She then swings open the refrigerator and pulls out two cans of Pepsi Max.

“Do you need a glass?” she asks, holding them up to me.

“Nope,” I reply with a shrug, leaning back in my chair. She smirks, opening a drawer and pulling out a metal straw, holding it up like a weapon. “No, I can drink out of a can.”

I chuckle as she pops open her can and slips the straw in, then carries both cans back to the table. She sits in the chair opposite mine with that same casual ease about her.

“Tell me about the flowers?” I ask, curiosity edging my tone.

Her face clouds over, the smile fading as if something heavier is on her mind. “Ugh. Like I said, it’s probably Travis. I found them on my back patio on the table. He must have snuck over the fence. I keep the side gate bolted shut with a padlock. He won’t stay long. He doesn’t enjoy the cold.”

I lean in, my voice low, a little more serious. “And winter is coming.”

She gives a short laugh, the tension easing. “Did you like the show?”

“Yeah, the dragons looked realistic enough,” I reply, my grin returning.

Hannah smiles, her eyes lighting up. “Well, if dragons were real, I think they’d be nice. More like the ones in How to Train Your Dragon .”

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “No, the ones in Game of Thrones were closer to the real thing.”

She tilts her head, that thoughtful, almost playful look crossing her face. “Ah, you know dragons aren’t real. Don’t you?”

Raising an eyebrow, I lock eyes with her. “Are you sure about that?” The way I say it, it’s playful, but there’s an edge of something deeper, something unspoken in the silence that follows.

“I’ve never seen one,” she says with a shrug, her tone casual but her eyes searching mine as if expecting me to prove her wrong.

Leaning forward, I keep my voice steady as I reply, “I’ve never seen a shark in real life, but I know they’re out there. All mystical creatures are based on fact. Over time, they’ve been twisted into monsters or demons or worse, but maybe they were just misunderstood.”

Her expression softens, thoughtful. “You have a point. And I know they think dragons were actually snakes or reptiles.” She opens the packet of corn chips and pulls out one, crunching on it. “And that vampires were people suffering from porphyria.”

I can’t help but smile at her insight. “So, you don’t believe in the myths?”

Hannah tilts her head, the faintest trace of a smirk playing on her lips. “Unlike sharks, which lots of people have seen, and there’s video footage of them, vampires and dragons have never been seen or captured.”

I pause for a moment, letting her words sink in.

Then, leaning back in my chair, I reply, my voice low, the air between us thick with unspoken thoughts. “Maybe they like it that way.”

Her eyes flicker, the weight of my words lingering in the space between us.

For a brief second, it feels as if something bigger is at play, as if we’re talking about more than just dragons and vampires.

But then she takes another chip, breaking the tension, and I wonder if maybe that’s how the myths survive—by remaining just out of reach.

Her eyes meet mine. “Well, if you see one, let me know, and I’ll come running. You’ll protect me, right?”

Her words catch me off-guard, but the way she says them, the challenge mixed with trust, stirs something in me. My heart beats a little faster, a sharp kick of something protective rising in me.

I nod without hesitation, my voice low and steady. “With all that I am.”

The weight of that promise hangs in the air, and I can tell she feels it too. It’s more than just a lighthearted exchange now, more than just words tossed back and forth. I would protect her no matter what. But this woman knows nothing about me. Hell, we’ve only met three or four times.

How can I be so certain about her?

It doesn’t make sense. I’m not the type to throw around promises, but when I look at her and hear the hint of vulnerability beneath her words, something shifts.

Maybe it’s the way she doesn’t hide who she is or the way she’s not afraid to call me out or make me laugh.

Maybe it’s that I simply want to keep her safe.