Page 36 of The Souls We Claim

Rae touches my arm gently. “I’m not talking about the party. I’m talking about you. Your father was just murdered in his own home by someone you believe is related to you. That must be a lot to handle.”

My jaw goes slack for a second. “King telling you club business now, Rae?”

“He’s worried about you. So am I.”

“I’m solid.”

“There’s a difference between being solid and processing loss.”

Something wavers in me. I suddenly feel unsteady. “Honestly, Rae. I’m good. Just getting on with things.”

“You’ve racked up loss, Jackson. Your mom. Your dad. Friends you served with. Friends you rode hard with. Loss comes at a cost. You can’t just swallow that. It becomes a powder keg.”

“Appreciate you watching out for me, but I’m fine.” I run a hand over my face. My palms are sweating. “I gotta go. Got some errands to run. Thanks for the advice.”

“Understood. But I’m here for Arianne if she needs me. And I’m here for you too, Halo. You’ve been the solid one for the club through everything that’s happened. The reliable one. It’s okay to not be occasionally.”

12

ARIANNE

I’m lying on my stomach, naked, as Halo’s large hands work oil into my muscles. They ache with that soreness that comes from working out consistently for the first time, and Halo chuckles when I try to wiggle away from the delicious pain as he digs deep into muscles to help with the soreness.

Occasionally, his fingertips drift over the curve of my ass, and I feel the towel that was once covering me pushed farther and farther down my thighs.

I’m so tired and sleepy.

But the way his fingers graze between the cheeks of my ass stops me from falling asleep.

I roll onto my back and hear a noise in the distance, but I’m so in the moment that I can barely bring myself to pay attention.

The sound happens again.

“Arianne,” Halo says.

“Yes, Halo,” I murmur.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Don’t do this to me, Arianne.”

Then the bed jostles, and I open my eyes to see Halo leaning right over me, a palm on the pillow, on either side of my head.I’m in my bedroom, the one in Halo’s house, and my hand is between my legs.

Paralyzed, I can’t move.

Another dream. This time the kind I’ve had more frequently over the past couple of days. The dreams where Halo is the star of the show.

It’s not just sexual. It’s the way he cares. I wasn’t going to file a report about Patrick, but he persuaded me to go get my injuries checked and photographed at the hospital. Said it would leave an evidence trail should he try to contest the divorce. And then he paid for everything.

“Arianne. I wanted you to wake up so…” His words trail off as his eyes drift down my arm and see where my hand is.

“Ah, fuck,” Halo mutters, but he doesn’t move. I stare at him, and his gaze is fixed on my hand.

I’m not sure where the courage comes from, but I slide two of my fingers over my panties, gasping at the sensation.

Halo runs his tongue over his lower lip, then bites down on it. Tension vibrates around me. Maybe this is foolish. After our conversation four days ago, it feels utterly reckless, but the way he looks at me like he’s hungry pushes me on.

His hand clamps on my wrist, and I automatically squeeze my thighs, trapping my hand between them.

“This has ‘bad idea’ written all over it,” Halo says.