Page 39 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)

“Do you like garlic bread?” Blade asks, his gaze flicking from the lasagna to me, a teasing edge in his voice.

“Yes,” I reply, a little too quickly, then laugh and shake my head. “But I couldn’t eat a whole one. Can we share?”

Blade’s lips curl into a grin, his eyes softening with amusement. “I’m good with that,” he says, reaching for one of the garlic breads, breaking it in half, and offering me a piece. Something is comforting in the way he doesn’t hesitate, as if sharing this small moment is as easy as breathing.

“Thanks.” I place the garlic bread on my plate and head for the huge table with their logo carved into the wood’s surface.

As I sit, a quiet falls over the room, like the air itself is holding its breath. It’s subtle, but I can feel the eyes of the men on me, a weighty silence that wasn’t there a second ago. I glance up at Blade, wondering if I’ve done something wrong.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice a little uncertain.

“Ah...” Blade smacks his lips together, a moment of hesitation that feels like a lifetime. He looks around at the other men, their eyes all shifting between him and me. “I normally sit there.”

“Oh, sorry, I can move.” I’m suddenly acutely aware of every pair of eyes on me, and I don’t want to make this more uncomfortable than it already is.

Blade’s eyebrows come together as if he’s trying to figure out the right thing to do.

His gaze flicks back to me, but before he can respond, I quickly stand, feeling a sudden need to ease the tension.

I pick up my plate, shifting it to the left side of the table, out of the way, so I’m not sitting at the head.

A low murmur runs through the room as I sit again, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve just crossed some invisible line.

Something in the air has changed, but I can’t quite tell if it’s for better or worse.

Blade reaches over and drags my plate next to his at the head of the table, his hand brushing mine in a quick, reassuring motion.

“This is a first, and we’re handling it badly,” he admits, his voice low, a hint of discomfort threading through his words.

“It’s just that women don’t sit at the club’s table.

They never have. The only people who sit at this table are members.

” I sit frozen, unsure of how to respond, but before I can say anything, Blade’s eyes meet mine, softening as he continues, “But tonight, we’ll make a change.

” He gives a slight nod as if acknowledging the shift in the room.

“Everyone has an assigned seat according to their rank in the club,” he adds. “Right now, you’re in Vex’s seat.”

There’s a strange kind of understanding in his gaze. He’s letting me know, despite the awkwardness, this moment means something, something different for all of them. And, though I can’t be sure of it yet, something tells me this won’t be the last time I make waves in their world.

Standing, I glance over my shoulder at the men behind me, suddenly feeling the weight of their stares a little heavier.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” I say, my voice steady but tinged with uncertainty.

“It never occurred to me that this would even be a thing.” I pause, taking in the quiet tension that still lingers in the room.

“Do you mind if I sit with Blade at the head of the table just while we eat?”

I glance at Blade then, searching his expression for any sign that I’ve overstepped, but all I see is quiet understanding, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

The room is still, everyone waiting for the next move, but there’s something in the air now, something softer.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m willing to acknowledge the unspoken rules of their world, or maybe it’s just that I’ve made my place here, however small it may be.

“You’re good,” Vex replies, his voice casual. “Use my chair, and I’ll grab another.” The men go back to dishing out their food as if nothing has changed, and Blade picks up Vex’s chair, setting it next to his without hesitation.

“Is this okay?” I ask, glancing up at Blade before I sit down, unsure if I’ve pushed things too far.

“Change is good,” Blade says, settling into his seat, grabbing a piece of garlic bread. He takes a bite and looks at me with a grin. “Make sure you eat some of this, otherwise, you won’t want to kiss me.”

“Pretty sure that’ll never happen.” I toss the words out lightly, more to cover the growing awkwardness in the air than anything else.

Blade chuckles, and it eases some of the tension. I sit beside him, grateful for the small bit of normalcy in the chaos.

“Beer?” Rooster yells from the kitchen, startling me as I settle in.

He’s standing at the refrigerator with the door open as if he’s already in the middle of some sort of routine.

Blade holds up his hand, and Rooster effortlessly tosses him a beer.

It happens so fast, I yelp and duck my head, thinking it’s headed straight for me.

But then, as if it were choreographed, Rooster tosses a beer at every man who has their hand raised.

Some of them don’t even bother to look at the bottles as they snatch them midair.

“Do you want one?” Blade asks, his eyes catching mine.

“Yes?” I answer, unsure if I’m ready for the chaos but intrigued nonetheless.

Blade holds up his hand again, and with that same effortless motion, a beer lands in his palm. He places it in front of me with a grin. “Here you go.”

“How did you all do that?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Do what?” Hollywood asks, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow, not looking up from his plate.

“Catch the bottles without looking at them?” I feel like a bit of a fool asking, but the precision of it all is impressive.

Rooster sits down at the table, settling in with his beer. “I’m a good shot. Never missed. All you need is a good sense of aim.” He takes a long swig, clearly proud of his skill.

Laughing nervously, I shake my head. “If I did that, you’d end up with beer all over the walls or glass embedded in the back of someone’s head.”

Rooster smirks at that, clearly amused by the thought, while the others share a chuckle. “We definitely won’t ask you to hand them out then.”

They all have smiles or smirks on their faces, and suddenly, I’m the outsider in a joke only they get.

I know I told Blade I’d wait for him to explain how Prophet fixed Grace, but all of this feels connected.

With Fury’s strange way of looking at me and the magnetic pull I feel when Blade is around, it’s as though something is already tying us together.

But it doesn’t make sense.

I’ve never felt this way about another man, but after Travis, why do I trust Blade so easily?

After all, he’s the president of an MC. Everything I know about biker gangs comes from television shows—the kind that make them out to be involved with guns, drugs, and women. No, they don’t call them women, they call them whores.

“Hey, are you okay?” Blade’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

I shake my head, forcing a smile. “Sorry, lost in my thoughts.”

“Anything I can help with?” His voice is softer now, not the hard edge I was expecting.

Blade’s expression softens as he watches me, his eyes searching mine with an unexpected mix of concern and curiosity.

I glance around at the others, catching their knowing looks, but there’s something in Blade’s eyes that feels genuine, unlike anything I expected from a man in his position.

The tough biker persona isn’t as thick as I thought.

“I...” I start, unsure how much I want to share. “Just trying to make sense of all this, you know?”

He nods, a quiet encouragement in his eyes urging me to go on.

“It’s all so different from what I thought,” I admit, feeling some of the tension in my chest loosen. “I mean, you guys... you’re not what TV shows make bikers out to be.”

Blade chuckles a low, almost conspiratorial sound. “Yeah, those shows aren’t exactly documentaries.”

I manage a small smile. “Definitely not.”

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “You can ask anything, Hannah. We’re an open book, even when it seems complicated.”

His words sink in, and for a moment, I consider telling him everything swirling in my head. But it’s too much, too soon. “Maybe... I just need time to figure it all out.”

Blade nods again, his smile more reassuring than I expected. “Take all the time you need. We’re here.”

His words wrap around me, comforting in a way I didn’t know I needed. Despite the chaos in my mind and the weight of my doubts, I find myself feeling grateful for this unexpected sense of belonging, even if I know he’s not telling me everything.

“Tomorrow, I’d like to head into town. I need a few things, and I want to check on my house and grab some clothes.

” Grace hops up onto Vex’s lap, making herself comfortable.

I reach out and give her head a gentle pat.

“And she’s got a harness I’m training her to walk outside with.

Don’t want her getting lost. We’d never find her up here. ”

“We’d find her,” Chrome says without missing a beat.

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “How?”

“I’m a good tracker. Even cats leave footprints.” Chrome stuffs a chunk of garlic bread into his mouth, then glances down at his plate, completely unfazed.

With a shake of my head, I finish my meal, letting the sounds of their banter fill the space around me.

Rooster can’t seem to help himself, always poking at someone to get a rise.

Prophet, true to his title as the MC’s chaplain, is the only one who seems capable of running interference.

He just smiles that calm, knowing grin, and somehow, it’s enough to make the guys back off or drop whatever argument they were picking at.

Hollywood, for all his tough-guy act, can’t resist throwing a few teasing jabs, especially at Scout.

Blade squeezes my knee, the warmth of his hand a comfort I didn’t know I needed. “You look tired.”