Page 42

The clubhouse door swings shut behind Becki, and the moment it clicks everything seems crystal clear.

Like a storm in leather, Legend stands there, hands clenched, chin out, eyes burning with a furious lust. Everyone else? Hell, they’re still cheering, like they paid cover for the show.

And I’m not done putting on a performance.

I stride toward him, slow and deliberate, like a woman who knows exactly what kind of fire she’s playing with. The scrape on my knuckle throbs, but I’m grinning like I won a damn blue ribbon.

“Let me guess,” I purr, tilting my head. “You didn’t expect me to throw down a biker slut in your filthy little kingdom?”

His mouth twitches, just a tick. “Didn’t expect you to win, that’s for damn sure. Becki’s nearly as tall as me.”

Stopping inches from him, I toss my hair back like I’m not shaking inside. Catching him off guard, I shove his torso. He flops into the chair.

“You gave me up, Legend. Thought you were keepin’ me safe, didn’t you? You were fuckin’ wrong.”

His nostrils flare, like I just poked a wild animal. “You think this is a game?”

“No,” I bark. “I think it’s a damn war. And I didn’t start it. You did. When you pushed me away like I’d break.”

He’s silent. The room hushes. I don’t care.

“I expected you of all people to fight for me. Come save me, at least.”

His eyes flash. The wild thing’s wide awake, now.

“You claimed me once, didn’t you?” Pressing, my eyes gleamed. “Said I was yours.”

“I meant it,” he growls. “Still do.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.” I raise my brow.

His brows furrow.

What I’m doing doesn’t make a lick of sense. Here I’m fighting a man I miss more than anything. Acting out like a child, but I can’t stop myself.

In for a penny in for a pound.

“That was claiming me? That soft little moment on silk in the dark? Sugar, you treated me like glass. I’m not fragile. I’m strong like that bourbon you drink like water. Sturdy. Sharp. I burn down the throat and have had men better than you begging for more.”

His chest rises fast now, hands twitching at his sides. I’m getting under his skin.

“You wanna know the truth, Legend?” I lean in close enough that our mouths almost touch.

He’s still seated after all. “I like whips. Chains. To be tied up. Owned. And if you ain’t willing to show me a real good time…

There are a dozen bikers in this room with a length of rope and nothing better to do. Hell, I have plenty of ridin’ crops.”

The growl he lets out is pure hellfire.

He bolts up and grabs the rope off the bar. It all happens so fast, I can only figure, Darla fetched it for him. She’s smiling at me like she knows what’s coming, and I ain’t gonna like it.

“You wanna be treated like just another club bunny? Like one of the whores?” He seethes.

Before I can answer, before I can blink, my hands are behind my back, wrists bound tight in a practiced knot that tells me he’s done this more than once.

The clubhouse gets loud as we’re basically wrestling, now. What the hell have I done? Picked a fight with a man who don’t lose.

“Hey now,” Bullet yells from across the room. “That’s one way to stake your claim, Prez.”

“She asked for it,” Legend says, eyes locked on mine. “Didn’t you, Princess?”

“Maybe,” I breathe, trembling in the best way. My arms are bound behind me, sure, but I’m not hurt. Not really.

What I am is seriously turned on.

“So, what now, Prez?” One of his brothers shouts.

He jerks my arms just enough to make me stumble against him. My breasts flatten against his abs, since he’s twice my size.

“Now, I make her pay. Nobody disrespects the Prez. Nobody fucks with the Kings.”

The clubhouse repeats him, chanting the phrase.

“What do you plan to do to me?”

“Debry, got that ridin’ crop, still?” he calls out, dragging me over to the pool table.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing and bends me forward over the edge. “I’ll show you why I treated you like glass. I didn’t want to break you.”

I’m still smarting off. “I ride wild horses bareback. Think I can’t handle the likes of you?”

My face presses into the felt as Legend reaches around to undo my jeans.

“This too much for you, Horse Princess?” he asks loudly, like he’s not talkin’ to me, but the club.

I think about biting my tongue but fuck it. “Who hasn’t seen an ass before? I don’t care if the whole club sees mine.”

“You still feelin’ tough?” he says, loud enough for the room.

He thinks he’ll scare me?

I don’t answer.

I don’t need to.

I ain’t scared.

The scrape of denim, the whisper of leather. He’s not rushing.

“You want the club to see this?” he asks near my ear, like he thinks I’ll fight. Back out. “You want them to know you’re mine?”

I arch back just enough to hiss, “Damn right.”

There’s a beat of silence

He laughs, dark and dangerous, unfastens my jeans the rest of the way, dragging them down just enough to bare me.

“Goddamn,” he mutters. “Ain’t a man alive gonna forget this sight.”

Then the sharp crack of the riding crop cuts through the noise and lands. I wince out of amazement. Not pain. Not really. But a claim. A mark.

The Kings cheer. Whistles, hollers, the stomp of boots.

Legend leans down, voice like smoke in my ear. “You’re not some porcelain doll. You’re wild, Sophie Montgomery. And wild needs to be tamed.”

I shiver, bound and burning from the inside out.

Not broken.

Branded.

His hands holding me down like he thinks I’ll bolt. My cheek presses harder against the pool table felt and my breath turns shallow, adrenaline buzzing under my skin like lightning waiting to strike.

The leather crop snaps again, sharper this time. Not cruel. Not careless. But it steals my breath and replaces it with heat, raw and blinding.

Legend grips my hip like he owns me.

“You still with me, Princess?”

I nod, biting back a moan. “More.”

There’s movement behind me. Boots scraping concrete.

He’s taking his time.

Making a show.

Because this ain’t just for me. It’s for them too. For the Kings. For every bastard in this room who ever doubted I belonged.

“Y’all pay attention,” Legend growls to the room. “This is what happens when a woman’s got enough grit to stand toe-to-toe with the devil.”

Cheers erupt.

I feel their eyes on my bare ass, but I don’t care. Let ’em watch. Let ’em know I’m not just some charity case in silk.

He bends over me, breath hot at the back of my neck. “You look good like this.”

“Say it louder,” I whisper. “Let them know I’m yours.”

“You still trying to give me orders, Princess?”

Then he uses his body to press me down, pinning me against the pool table while he pulls the crop tight under my chin, forcing my head up so I’m looking straight out at the crowd that’s gathered on the other side.

At my new family.

At my place in this kingdom of sinners.

"Look at her," he whispers, a dangerous edge to his tone. “This ain’t a club slut. This is mine.”

The room howls.

The heat is too much now, between my legs, in my chest, behind my eyes. He grinds against me, letting me feel what I do to him. His legendary length, hard. Hungry. Holding back by a thread.

“You want more, Sophie?” he murmurs, just for me now. “You want all of it?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

He howls, “I should rip you a new cunt in front of my brothers.” His hand slides around, down the front of my thigh, possessive and deliberate, cupping my pussy.

He’s not teasing anymore.

This is the moment.

The crop drops to the floor with a soft slap, forgotten.

Legend’s hand fists my hair and yanks my head back against his shoulder. My body arches, exposed and shaking, but I don’t flinch. I won’t. I asked for this. Provoked it.

Claim me, I told him without words.

And now I’m about to learn what that really means.

His mouth brushes the shell of my ear, breath hot and mean. “You wanna act like one of us? Prove you can take what you dish out?”

“Yes,” I whisper, breathless.

“No more games. No more orders. I’m not your stable boy. No more ridin’ me like I’m your damn fairytale.” His voice darkens, tightens around the edges. “From now on, I ride you. I take what’s mine. You understand?”

My nod isn’t enough.

So he spins me to face him, and everyone sees.

His hand grabs my jaw, tilts it up. His lips are almost on mine, but he pauses, makes me wait, tremble, need it more than air.

“Tell me you’re mine, Sophie Montgomery,” he growls.

“I’m yours,” I say, louder than I mean to. “I’ve always been yours.”

That breaks him.

The kiss is savage. All teeth and tongue, no mercy. I taste rye, smoke, and rage. His fingers dig into my hips as he lifts me onto the edge of the pool table like I weigh nothing.

“You belong to the Kings now,” he mutters against my mouth, loud enough everyone can hear. “But you’ll always be Property of Legend first.”

The words rip through me.

A cheer breaks out in the room as he grabs a marker from Bullet, then turns me slightly and scrawls it in big black letters on the back of my thigh, bold, possessive, final.

PROPERTY OF LEGEND

He caps the marker, tosses it to the floor, and presses his palm over the words like he’s sealing them into my skin.

“That’s where Pookie’s gonna ink you. You can hide it under your pretty dresses,” he says, daring me to argue. “But you’ll always feel it burnin’ there. Just like I feel you burnin’ in me.”

The room’s still loud, but we don’t hear it anymore.

Not really.

Because the second he hauls me over his shoulder, jeans still halfway down, rope still tight, holding my arms back, I know what comes next isn’t for their eyes.

It’s just for us.

He storms toward his room, slapping my ass once as the crowd roars, and I laugh, wild and free and feral.

Let them watch.

Let them talk.

I’ve never felt more seen in my whole life.