Page 64 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

PARKER

I blast my music on my kick-ass sound system in my kick-ass new car as I drive to the clubhouse.

Riot has been semi-secretive about why he’s kept me away, but he doesn’t realize how much he reveals when he asks me things like, “loveseat and a sofa or a sectional?” Or, “What firmness do you like in a mattress?” So I think it’s safe to say he’s at least refurnishing his place, and I get to see what he’s done today.

Riot is standing in front of the clubhouse when I pull into the parking lot, and I bite my lip, feeling a little tingle between my legs. Will it always be this way? Will I always have a visceral reaction to just the sight of him?

His brown hair, streaked with blond from the sun, is finger-combed to the side, doing this perfect swoop thing that he doesn’t even try to do.

He just has good hair. This morning, he looked like Grizzly Adams, since he hadn’t shaved once while we stayed at the cabin, but he must’ve shaved since then, because his facial hair is only a little more than a shadow now. I think he looks sexy both ways.

He’s in his usual worn black jeans, black tee, boots, and his cut, showing off the tattoos running up and down his arms. There’s a new one on his inner left wrist, a beautiful micro- realistic rose and stem with a single thorn.

Like his other tattoos, it’s black and gray, save for the thorn that’s a vibrant green.

Unfortunately for me, I think the ridiculous nickname he gave me is going to stick.

I’m grinning as I park until I notice his hands are tucked in his jeans pockets, a serious expression on his face.

Okay, yes, his expression is always serious, but I’ve learned to decipher the slight differences.

For instance, when he’s happy, the muscles around his mouth are relaxed and he’s not clenching his jaw, unlike right now, when the guy could crack a molar with how tense he is.

A million worries flash through my mind. Are the rats okay? Is there someone else who wants to kill me? I wish that weren’t a real concern, but let’s be honest, it’s happened entirely too many times in the last few months. Or maybe he’s just nervous to show me the new furniture he put in?

Sliding out of the front seat, I’m barely all the way out before he grips me by the back of the neck and pulls me in for a kiss. The ease with which he shows affection now never ceases to surprise me. I still remember how shocked he was the first time I held his hand. Now look at him.

He pulls away and kisses the tip of my nose. “Come on, Little Thorn. I’ve got shit to show you.”

My small hand slips into his big one, and he gives it a squeeze, which starts a stirring in my core.

It’s been way too long since we’ve been intimate.

Even after I was on the mend and wanting more than a cuddle, he refused, saying I needed more time to heal.

I think he was the one who needed the time because I constantly caught him staring at my injuries with a murderous expression.

If he could bring Roland back to life and kill him all over again, he would.

Not that I can say for sure Roland is deceased.

All I know is what Riot told me, which is, “he’ll never hurt you again, Little Thorn.

” This was after I saw the news reporting that both Roland and his dad had gone missing.

I assume Senior met the same fate as Junior, but I don’t care enough to ask.

Riot said he’s not going to be a problem, and I trust him with every fiber of my being.

We round the corner of the clubhouse and walk the path through the trees to his cabin. The second it comes into view, my feet stop moving. I gasp, my hand covering my mouth as I take in what looks like a whole new house. I guess he didn’t just buy some new furniture.

“Lucas,” I say, curling into his side, which isn’t comfortable because he’s still ramrod straight, all tense. It’s not until I tell him how beautiful it is that he semi -relaxes. “Those windows will bring in so much light, and I love the black trim with the green. Did you choose that?”

“I wanted it to reflect both of us,” he says, his voice monotonous. I have a feeling that until I see everything he’s done, he won’t relax. So, as much as I want to look closely at every detail, it’ll have to wait because it stresses me out when he’s like this.

“Show me the rest.” I tug him onto the new porch I’m not afraid of putting a hole into and take note of the two comfy-looking chairs. “Oh my god, I can just see us having our morning coffee out here. Of course, we’ll have to get an outdoor enclosure for the rats so they can hang out with us.”

“Just wait,” he says cryptically.

He opens the front door, and again, I gasp. The layout isn’t much different, but the small changes he made will make a big difference. There is so much to look at, from the new flooring to the new paint and furniture, but the thing I go to first is the enclosure for Ben and Amy.

“Holy moly. They’ll get lost in there.”

“Rats actually have a really good sense of direction. They have neurons that only fire when they’re facing a certain direction. So, if they’re facing north, the north neuron is activated.”

“That’s good to know.” As if knowing we’re talking about them, they pop their heads inside from a tiny dog door. “Where does that go?”

“Outside. It was difficult to make something I knew they couldn’t chew through, but it’s been a couple of days, and they haven’t gotten out, so I think it’s okay.”

“They’re gonna love that, and my god, this”—I turn in a circle—“was so much work. I can’t believe how incredible it all looks.

” My entire body is warm, electrified. It’s happiness, but it’s something else too.

Even if he hasn’t directly said it, I know he did all this for me, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around that.

His first inclination isn’t usually to think of other people, but not because he’s selfish.

It just doesn’t cross his mind unless he happens to notice someone’s discomfort.

“You like it then?” he asks.

“I love it.” I lift onto my toes and kiss his lips.

“I did some work in the bedroom and bathroom too.”

I squeal and run down the hallway, getting confused because instead of two doors, there are now three.

The first one I open is new from the previous footprint of the house.

I can’t see a thing inside, so I flip on the light, only to realize it’s so dark because all four walls are painted black and the one window is dressed with a black curtain.

There’s a bed in here, so it would work for a guest bedroom—not that either of us has anyone who would visit.

Riot brushes past me and opens the closet.

My eyes sting at the new safe place he’s created for himself.

What he had before worked, but it was bare minimum effort and left a lot to be desired.

Gone are the worn blankets and stained pillows that looked to be decades old.

In their place are soft and comfortable fabrics and textures.

It looks like there’s a cushy pad for him to sit on and even a built-in bookshelf for all his nonfiction special interest books.

His noise-canceling headphones have a hook to hang them from, and there’s a sound machine that displays soothing LED lighting effects.

It looks so inviting, I wonder if he’ll let me hang out in there sometimes.

“It’s perfect for you,” I say. “But why did you move it out of the living room?”

“Just hiding it.”

“Why?”

“Other people don’t have corners in their house where they can hide. It’s weird.”

“But if you come in here, I can’t be with you.”

“Why do you want to be with me when I’m like that?” he asks.

“If you haven’t guessed, I kind of enjoy hanging out with you. Plus, I like the reminder that you’re human.”

“That shouldn’t be the only clue,” he says as if I’m an idiot.

“No, that’s not what I mean. You’re just so big and confident. You go after what you want and don’t care what other people think of you. It makes you some kind of superhero in my eyes, but then you sit in your corner and you’re vulnerable and. . . human.”

“You like to see me when I’m weak,” he deadpans.

“No. You’re never weak. Showing your vulnerable side makes you an even sexier badass biker.” I give him a quick peck. “Maybe I could put a chair in the corner over there and have my own little space? I could get a bookshelf, or maybe I’ll take up crocheting or something. Would that be okay?”

“I’d like that very much.”

“Good.” I push past him, taking his hand. “Let’s see the rest.”

The bedroom is gorgeous and comfortable.

He upgraded to a bigger bed, which I complain about because I don’t want space between us while we sleep.

He insists it’s only because Navy and Tinleigh ordered it.

Something about the two women helping him make design choices makes me smile.

He’s finding a place in his club, and even the ol’ ladies are coming around. It’s way overdue.

“There’s an ensuite now, right through there.” He points to a door next to the closet that wasn’t there before.

“How did you get this done so quickly?”

“My brothers did a lot of the work, so I didn’t have to wait for contractors, and the housing inspector frequents the Honey Pot, so I leveraged that to get him out here sooner.”

“That’s handy.” I walk into a beautiful bathroom with lots of room and an even bigger shower than what’s in my cabin. “Wow. It’s amazing.”

“I made sure there was plenty of room for me to fuck you in the shower,” he says.

“Oh yeah?” I wrap my arms around his neck, and his hands go right to my ass.

“If I’m making you move in, I want you to be comfortable.”

“Are you sure you want me here permanently?”

“You’re moving in, Little Thorn,” he threatens. “It’d be easier if you did it on your own, but I have no problem forcing you.”

“Don’t I know it,” I mutter. “But you didn’t have to do this. I was comfortable in the old cabin, you know.”