Page 17

Birdie

I never thought I’d find myself in this situation. Sitting across from a man who could turn into a wolf, sippin’ sweet tea like it was just another lazy Sunday. But here I was, and there he was. Rocky. The gruff, brooding biker whose blue eyes made my stomach do somersaults every time they landed on me. Eyes that didn’t just look at me. They saw me.

And I wasn’t ready for that kind of honesty. Not after everything.

If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be spending my days learning about shifters and supernatural biker clubs, I would’ve laughed ‘em straight outta Knoxville. And now? Now I was neck-deep in a world I hadn’t even known existed, and the worst part? I didn’t know if I wanted out.

“Alright, Sunshine,” Rocky drawled, that deep, sinful voice knocking me outta my spiraling thoughts. He leaned back against the porch post, the golden late afternoon sun catching in his sandy-blond hair. “You ready to learn about the world you’ve stumbled into?”

I nodded, though my heart was thumping loud enough to feel in my fingertips. Curiosity, fear, want, all tangled up like my insides were in a tug-of-war. “Lay it on me, wolfman.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, just shy of cocky. “First thing you gotta understand is that the world ain’t as simple as you thought. There’s shifters like me, yeah, but also vampires, witches, things that go bump in the night that you’d swear were just stories. But they’re real. They’re out there. And most of ‘em know how to keep real quiet.”

I blinked. “Vampires and witches too? What is this, some supernatural soap opera?”

He chuckled, low and rough, like tires on gravel. It shivered all the way down my spine. “It’s a hell of a lot less glamorous than you’re imagining. Royal Bastards MC in Knoxville, my club? We ain’t just an outlaw biker gang. We keep order. Protect what’s ours. And that means managin’ what the rest of the world don’t know.”

I sipped my tea, fingers curled tight around the mason jar. I didn’t know what to say to that. The idea of a club of supernatural guardians riding around in leather jackets, keeping monsters in check? It was insane. And yet, I was living it.

“So, what does that make me?” I asked finally, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. “Some clueless human stuck in the middle?”

His blue eyes, usually stormy, softened, revealing a hint of something akin to affection. “You’re more than that, Birdie. You’re…” He looked away, jaw flexing. “You’re important.”

The way he said it made my breath catch. My face flushed, and I had to look down, pretending to mess with the condensation dripping off my glass. I could feel the heat of him even from across the porch, and it was doing things to my privates .

“Alright,” I said after a beat, trying to shake off my nerves. “What are these rules and routines you keep mentioning? Am I supposed to follow some supernatural handbook now?”

“This ain’t a movie Birdie.” He leaned forward, arms crossed over his broad chest. Lord help me, the man had shoulders that could block out the sun. “It’s about safety,” he said. “There’s things out there you don’t know how to fight yet. Like that rogue who came after you in the woods.”

I stiffened. “So what, now I need to fight?”

“No.” His tone was calm but firm. “You need someone watchin’ your six until you know how to handle yourself.”

“A babysitter?” I bristled. “I’ve been taking care of myself just fine, thank you very much. I don’t need some big bad wolf looking over my shoulder.”

His jaw ticked, and for a second, I saw the animal flash in his eyes. “This ain’t about pride, Birdie. It’s about survival. You wanna walk into the woods with your eyes shut, be my guest. But don’t act surprised when something tears you apart.”

The words hit me like a slap. I opened my mouth to snap back, but the look on his face stopped me. It wasn’t anger. It was fear. Raw, unfiltered fear.

He wasn’t trying to control me.

He was scared for me.

I let out a breath and looked away. “Fine. But don’t expect me to start following orders like I’m in boot camp. ”

That hint of a smirk returned. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine.”

The tension eased, just enough that I could breathe again. We talked for a while longer. He explained the different types of shifters, the way full moons affected them, the politics between the clubs and the supernatural world. It was all so new. I couldn’t absorb it all. I asked questions. Too many. And still didn’t get it. He didn’t seem to mind. Said it’d take time.

At some point, we’d moved closer. Close enough that his knee brushed mine from time to time. Close enough that our hands would touch when we reached for our drinks.

At one point, I glanced up and caught him staring. His pupils were wide, and his eyes… they weren’t quite human. Not entirely. A low hum stirred deep in my belly.

“Rocky,” I whispered. I didn’t know what I was about to say. I just knew I had to say something .

He reached out slow, like he was afraid I’d bolt. His fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. A simple touch. But it felt like a promise.

“Birdie,” he murmured. “I’ve been trying real hard not to do this…”

I leaned in without meaning to. I was hotter than the Tennessee sun. My breath caught as our lips hovered, barely a breath apart.

But he stopped .

Pulled back with a growl low in his throat, like it physically hurt him to break contact.

“I can’t,” he rasped, jaw clenched. “Not until you know what it means.”

My heart was racing, my hands trembling. “What means ?”

He stood, pacing a few feet, then turned back to me. The struggle in his eyes was fierce.

“If I claim you,” he said. “If I mark you. It ain’t just a roll in the hay. It’s forever. Instinct. Bonded. You’d feel me in your head. Your heart. Your bones.”

I blinked. “You mean… like, psychically?”

“Worse. Better.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Permanent.”

My throat went dry. “Is that what you want?”

He looked away. “Every damn day. Every time you smile. Every time you sass me.”

There was silence. Thick. Heavy.

Then he turned back, his voice quieter, raw. “Would you ever consider it? Bein’… like me?”

I jerked like he’d slapped me. “What?”

“Shiftin’,” he said. “Bein’ a wolf. It’s not somethin’ I’d force. But if you ever wanted …”

“Oh, hell no.” The words came out harsher than I intended. “God, no, Rocky. I’m not—I can’t.”

He flinched, just barely. But I saw it.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But this whole world is still… too much.”

He nodded, backing off, but the air between us felt colder. Emptier.

“I get it,” he said. “I really do.”

We didn’t speak much after that. I sat there staring at the sky while he leaned against the porch rail, silent.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. Like a door cracked open that neither of us could shut.

A line had been drawn.

And neither of us knew what it meant to cross it.