Page 8 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)

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Blade

B efore I see it, I hear the car and the faint hum of its engine growing louder as it approaches.

My chest tightens, heat spreading through me as the tiny red and black car pulls into view.

Hannah parks right in front of my porch and steps out, a container tucked under her arm, her face bright with a wide, cheerful smile.

“Hello!” she chirps, slamming the car door shut. “I bring gifts by way of a thank you.”

She hurries toward me, holding out the container as though it’s a peace offering. I take it, popping the lid open to reveal what I assume are cookies. They’re oddly shaped, unevenly baked, and a little singed at the edges. I stifle a chuckle.

Hannah glances past me toward the closed door of my house, her smile faltering for just a moment before she meets my eyes.

“You wouldn’t take any money from me, so I thought I’d bake you something. They’d go great with tea, but you’re a coffee guy, right?”

Her nervous energy tugs at something in me. I never invite strangers into my home—this place is mine, my sanctuary, and the only people who’ve stepped foot here are members of my MC. But she’s standing there, hopeful and slightly awkward, making it clear she expects an invitation.

I clear my throat, a rare twinge of uncertainty creeping into my voice. “Would you like to come in?”

Her face lights up, and she nods so enthusiastically it makes me laugh. “Love to!”

Opening the door, I step aside to let her in.

She brushes past me, her scent filling the space—soft, clean, and tinged with something sweet, maybe vanilla?

To my surprise, she doesn’t linger awkwardly near the door the way most people would.

Instead, she spots the kettle in my small kitchen, picks it up, fills it with water, and sets it on the stove, moving as though she’s done it a hundred times before.

“Well, someone’s comfortable,” I say, leaning against the counter, watching her with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

She flashes me a grin over her shoulder. “Why waste time? And these...” she points at the container of cookies, “... are better fresh. Or at least I hope they are.”

I glance at the cookies again, one corner of my mouth quirking up. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Hannah laughs, and the sound is warm, filling the quiet space in a way that feels right. For someone who doesn’t know me, she sure has a knack for making herself at home. It’s strange, unsettling even, but I don’t mind as much as I probably should.

Hannah rummages through my kitchen cupboards, opening one after another.

“Are you looking for something?” I ask.

“You have coffee, but I can’t find your tea.”

“I don’t have any.”

“What? None? So, you only offer your guests coffee?”

I laugh. “Or water, and I don’t get many guests here.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, then she grabs a glass and fills it from the faucet.

The kettle on the stove whistles, and realizing there’s no tea, Hannah takes it off the heat and turns off the stove.

With a quick smile, she pours me a cup of black coffee from my machine, impressing me with how effortlessly she overcomes the small hiccup and keeps going.

Hannah picks up her glass of water and settles at my dining table.

“Bring your coffee and have a cookie.”

There’s something about her that makes me comply without question. The warmth in my chest expands as I take a seat opposite her. Hannah nudges the cookie container closer to me. I pick a slightly less burned one and take a cautious bite.

An unexpected sharpness grazes my tongue—salt instead of sugar, perhaps. I try not to cough, hastily washing it down with a large gulp of coffee.

“Are they good?”

I slide the container back toward her and manage a nod. “Yeah, have one.”

“I prefer mine with tea.”

Hannah’s gaze sweeps over my home, her eyes lingering on the bare walls and simple furniture. I can see the wheels turning in her head, comparing it to whatever she’s used to. For the first time, the space feels stark, almost impersonal.

“I built it myself,” I offer, breaking the silence.

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide with surprise. Her lips part slightly before she breathes out, “Wow.” She stands, her movements fluid, and crosses the room to the nearest wall. Placing her palm on one of the wooden logs, she traces a knot in the grain with her fingertips. “By yourself?”

I chuckle, the sound low and easy. “No, I had help from the men in my MC.”

“Ah, that’s right.” She turns back, her expression brightening with recognition. “I met one of your members at the diner in town. He gave me your address.”

My jaw tightens. “Who was it?”

“I think his name was Vex,” she says, her smile soft but oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

Vex. I’m going to kill him. That idiot knows better than to give out my address. My hand tightens around the mug I’m holding, the ceramic warming my palm as I grit my teeth.

Hannah tilts her head, her smile faltering slightly. “Was that... not okay?”

I force a tight smile, though my tone betrays the edge of frustration. “Let’s just say Vex is going to get an earful.”

Hannah’s brows knit together, her lips pressing into a tight line.

She pulls her hand away from the wall, letting it fall to her side.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I just wanted to thank you for the tow, considering you wouldn’t let me pay you.

” Her voice is softer now, almost unsure, and the way her shoulders drop makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

“It’s not that,” I start, but the words catch in my throat.

Hannah crosses her arms across her chest. “If you don’t want me here, Blade, I can leave.”

“No.” The word bursts out of me louder than I intended, almost desperate. She freezes mid-step, staring at me with wide eyes. I scrub a hand over my face, cursing under my breath. “That’s not what I mean . ” I sigh, shaking my head at my inability to string a damn sentence together.

Her arms drop, but she still looks uncertain, waiting for me to explain.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say finally, my voice softer. “It’s not you. It’s Vex. He knows better than to just—” I break off, biting back another curse. “Hell, I’m glad you’re here, Hannah. I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”

Her expression softens, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You’re glad I’m here?”

I nod, my throat dry. “Yeah, I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I’m not. You’re welcome here anytime.”

She studies me for a moment as if she’s trying to figure out if I mean it. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at her lips. “Okay.”

Relief crashes over me, and I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure. “Good. Now, sit back down. Tell me what you think of our little town.”

Hannah practically skips back to the chair, her energy filling the room. “I love it here. It’s so different from LA. People actually look you in the eye and smile when you walk past. Everyone’s so friendly. And Grace loves it.”

“Grace?” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table.

“My cat,” she explains, her grin widening. “She’s really the only one who loves me.” Her smile falters briefly, a shadow crossing her features. She shakes her head quickly, brushing it off. “Do you have a pet?”

“No.” I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest. “I work odd hours, and between that and the MC... a pet wouldn’t fit.”

Hannah’s eyes glimmer with something I can’t quite place—sympathy, maybe. “You’ll have to come for dinner and meet her,” she says lightly as if it’s already decided.

I glance down at the cookies on the table, giving them a pointed look, then shake my head slightly. “Or I could take you out?”

Her fingers go to her beanie, tugging it free. As her hair falls loose, the faint, clean scent of her fills the room with lavender and something sweeter. It tugs at my senses, making it hard to think straight.

“Like a date?” she asks, her tone teasing, but there’s something vulnerable in her gaze as she tilts her head.

My mouth opens, then closes. Dammit, Blade, just say something. My tongue feels like lead. “Yeah, like a date,” I manage, my voice rougher than I intended.

Her lips curve into a soft smile, and she leans forward slightly, her eyes holding mine. “Well, now you’ve got me curious. What’s your idea of a ‘date?’ ”

“Dinner. Somewhere nice,” I say, leaning into the challenge in her gaze. “Maybe a walk after. Or, I don’t know...” I hesitate, scratching the back of my neck. “You tell me what you’d want to do.”

Her smile widens, and she taps her chin playfully. “I think I’m warming to this idea of a walk. Somewhere quiet, just to talk.”

Relief and something warmer settle in my chest. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Her tone softens, but there’s a spark of something mischievous in her eyes. “I’ll hold you to it.”

I nod, feeling the smallest tug of a grin at the corner of my mouth. “You better.”

Hannah picks up her beanie, standing slowly, as if lingering, and I can’t help but notice the way her movements are effortless, graceful even.

“Well, I best be going,” she says, her voice light, but there’s an underlying hesitation.

“Okay.”

I reach down to grab the cookie container, but before my fingers close around it, Hannah’s hand rests gently on mine. The warmth of her touch sends an electric jolt straight to my chest, and for a second, everything else fades away.

“Keep it,” she says, her voice soft yet playful. “Maybe return it, and we can have a coffee before our date?”

I rub my chest, feeling the sudden rush of warmth as the electric buzz spreads through me. “I’d like that.”

She smiles, the kind of smile that’s full of promise and puts her beanie back on, turning to head for the door. “Thanks for the water.”