Page 46 of Victorious, Part 2 (The LA Defiance MC #6)

He nods, leading us across the street toward another bar, but before we even make it halfway across the street, the sky finally breaks, drenching the city in a downpour so fierce it blurs the world around us.

I let out a small half scream, half laugh as Phoenix pulls me to him, his hand tight in mine as we run.

Yet somehow, his hand in mine becomes the calm inside the storm.

“You’re gonna get soaked,” Phoenix protests, but he’s laughing, too, the rain already darkening his hair and making his T-shirt cling to his chest.

“At least the rain makes you look good. It’s gonna fuck up my hair,” I scream back at him as a crash of thunder erupts around us.

Phoenix suddenly stops, pulling me with him in the middle of the street, rain pouring down around us, lightning flashing in the background, cars honking their horns as they drive around us, and I stare at him, wondering what in the hell has gotten into him.

He pulls me to him, rain dripping off his chin while he stares at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He suddenly steps back from me, placing his hand out with the biggest smile on his face. “Dance with me?”

I burst out laughing, swiping the rain from my face. “Are you insane? What are you doing?”

He shrugs. “Giving you your romantic movie moment, baby. You can’t tell me that dancing in a rainstorm isn’t romance movie gold? Plus, we never got our first wedding dance. So, what do you say, Clover? May I have this dance?”

Butterflies wreak havoc in my stomach, and I can’t tell if it is the rain running down my face or tears. Possibly both.

I slide my hand out to meet his. “You may.”

He pulls me in quickly, tight to his body, and I wrap my arms around his neck.

Our eyes lock as the rain continues to pummel down around us, and we begin to dance in the middle of a Las Vegas street with thunder and the honking car horns the only music to guide us.

The few people brave enough to venture out in the storm hurry past us like we’re crazy, but I don’t care.

This moment feels magical, just like something out of a Nicholas Sparks movie.

Phoenix spins me around, dipping me, and I throw my head back, laughing as the rain hits my face.

“You’re beautiful,” he states when he pulls me back against him, his voice barely audible over the sound of the storm.

“I’m soaked.”

“Beautiful,” he repeats firmly, and the way he’s looking at me makes me believe it.

We stay like this for a moment longer, just holding each other while the city rages around us, a blur of neon, thunder, and water. But the shiver that sneaks down my spine has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the chill creeping in.

Phoenix brushes my wet hair from my cheek. “Come on, Reel Girl. Let’s get you out of the storm before your teeth start chattering.”

I nod, reluctantly loosening my hold as he laces our fingers together, and we start moving again, leaving behind the impromptu dance floor we made in the middle of the street.

The rain hasn’t let up, but somehow, it feels softer now. Calmer.

Maybe because of him.

Phoenix squeezes my hand, and I glance up. He’s grinning, soaked to the bone, his shirt clinging to every line of muscle, his hair plastered across his forehead. He looks as if he walked straight out of a dream or one of my romance movies.

“What?” he asks when he catches me staring.

I shrug, smiling. “Just waiting for the soundtrack to kick in.”

He chuckles, pulling me closer as we dodge a splash from a passing cab. “I’ll hum something cheesy when we get back to the room.”

We finally reach The Strip again, the lights reflecting in shimmering puddles beneath our feet, the pavement flooding from the flat terrain and the lack of drainage, but it feels like the city is exhaling with us. The kind of exhale that comes after something you didn’t know you needed.

And as we walk, dripping, laughing, completely untethered, I realize I’ll remember this night forever.

Not because of the chaos or the rain.

But because in the middle of a storm, we found something that felt a hell of a lot like calm.

And when you belong to an MC, you don’t get calm very often.

The rain continues to fall as we make our way back toward the hotel, both of us drenched but neither caring.

I feel alive in a way I’ve never experienced before.

It’s as if every nerve ending is sparking with electricity.

The rules I’ve lived by my whole life—be careful, be safe, be good—seem like relics from another person’s existence.

“I love you,” I tell him, the words carrying all the weight of everything I’m feeling.

“Not just tonight, not just because of Vegas and the rain and the craziness. I love you, Phoenix. The man who researches my illnesses. The man who sings karaoke for my bucket list with me. The man who made a literal romance movie in the middle of the street for me. The man who married me in a chapel and meant every word of his vows.”

The expression on his face is so tender it takes my breath away. “Clover—”

“I know we’re going to have to go back to reality soon.” I continue, “I know there’s gonna be complications and drama and probably Maverick wanting to skin you alive. But right now, in this moment, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

Phoenix frames my face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the rain, or tears, I still can’t tell, from my cheeks. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling,” he says quietly. “Hope. Joy. The possibility that I might actually deserve something good.”

“You deserve everything good,” I tell him fiercely. “Everything , Wes.”

The second I say his name, his real name , something shifts.

His jaw tenses, his eyes darken, and then he crashes his mouth to mine like he’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping him afloat.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not sweet.

It’s desperate.

Consuming.

He kisses me as if he’s starved for the taste of something real, something that anchors him to the world. As if he’s afraid that if he lets up even for a second, I’ll vanish into the storm.

My fingers fist in the soaked fabric of his shirt as I kiss him back with everything I have.

I don’t hold anything back.

No hesitation.

No fear.

Just need.

His hands slip to my waist, gripping tight, pulling me flush against him, and when I moan into his mouth, he swallows it like a man starved of sound, like he needs even that part of me too.

Rain trickles down our faces, down our joined bodies, but I hardly feel it.

All I feel is him. His mouth, his hands, the way his heart beats like a war drum against my palm.

When we finally break apart, our foreheads rest together, our breaths tangled and uneven. The rain has softened to a mist, and through the thinning clouds, the moon peeks out as though it’s been waiting for this moment too.

And for once in my life, I don’t feel like I’m caught in the chaos.

I feel as if I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

And I see the same calmness echoed back in his eyes, and for the first time, he’s not on guard.

He’s not tense all over.

He’s finally here, with me, in the moment.

“I love you,” he whispers, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

A soft smile touches my lips. “I love you too.”

He exhales, his hands gripping mine. “We should head back,” Phoenix says reluctantly. “It’s getting late, and you need to eat something soon. Can’t have your blood sugar dropping.”

The fact that he’s thinking about my diabetes, that he’s keeping track of when I need to eat, makes me love him even more. But I’m not ready for this perfect night to end.

“One more stop,” I negotiate. “Please?”

He looks at me for a long moment, taking in my wet hair and hopeful expression. “What did you have in mind?”

I grin, pulling out my phone to check the last item on my bucket list. “The High Roller. I want to see Vegas from the top of the world.”

“All right, but then we’re going home and straight to a hot shower,” he warns.

The observation wheel is a twenty-minute walk from where we are, but neither of us minds.

We walk hand in hand through the quieter streets, occasionally stopping to look in shop windows or listen to street musicians.

The rain has left everything clean and shining, and the usual Vegas excess feels muted and romantic.

By the time we reach the High Roller, we’re both mostly dry, though my dress is definitely worse for wear. Phoenix pays for a private cabin, and I don’t even want to know what that costs. But as the wheel begins its slow revolution, carrying us up into the night sky, I know it’s worth every penny.

“Look,” Phoenix says softly, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

Vegas spreads out below us like a glittering circuit board, all lights and impossible beauty. From up here, the city appears like a fairy tale, all the harsh edges softened by distance and the romantic glow of neon.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, leaning back against Phoenix’s chest.

“It is,” he agrees, but when I glance at him, he’s not looking at the view.

He’s looking at me.

“The scenery’s out there,” I tease.

“The best scenery is right here in my arms.”

God, this man and his lines.

They shouldn’t work. They should be cheesy and over-the-top, but the way he says them with such complete sincerity makes them feel like poetry.

The distant sounds of the city below, the whisper of the wind, the rhythm of our own heartbeats. We stay locked together in our private cabin as Vegas slowly rotates beneath us, and I think this might be the most beautiful view I have ever seen.

“Thank you,” I say against his chest.

“For what?”

“For tonight. For everything. For making me feel brave enough to live my own life.”

He cuddles into me a little more. “You were always brave, Clover. You just needed someone to remind you.”

The observation wheel completes its revolution while we hold each other, and I know that no matter what happens when we go back to LA, no matter what complications await us, I’ll always have this.

This perfect night.

When I felt completely and utterly alive.

“Ready to head back to the hotel?” Phoenix asks as we exit the cabin.

I nod, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up with me. But it’s a good exhaustion, the kind that comes from living fully and loving completely.

The rain starts again as we make our way back toward the strip, harder this time, sending people scurrying for shelter. Phoenix pulls me under the awning of a hotel, both of us laughing as we shake the water from our hair.

“This is getting ridiculous.” He groans, but he’s smiling.

“I love it,” I say honestly. “I love all of it. The rain, the craziness, the unpredictability. I love that we’re standing here soaked to the bone, and I’ve never been happier.”

Phoenix looks at me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. “We need to talk about what happens next,” he says quietly.

The words send a chill through me that has nothing to do with the rain. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, eventually we have to go home, Clover. Back to our family, back to the club, back to reality. And when we do…” he runs a hand through his wet hair, “… things are gonna be complicated.”

I know he’s right. I’ve been pushing the thought away all night, all week really, but it’s been there in the back of my mind like a persistent shadow.

Maverick’s anger.

The club’s reaction.

The danger we’re all facing from the Cartel.

“I don’t want to think about that right now,” I say softly.

“Neither do I. But we have to.” His blue eyes are serious, intense.

“Because whatever happens, whatever we have to face, I need you to know that this…” he gestures between us “… this is real. This isn’t just Vegas madness or running away from our problems. This is love, Clover.

The kind that’s too intense not to last.”

The rain pounds harder against the awning above us, but I barely notice. All I can see is Phoenix, all I can hear is the certainty in his voice.

“I know,” I whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Good.” He pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. “Because whatever comes next, we face it together. As husband and wife. As partners. As equals.”

“Together,” I agree, and the promise feels as binding as any vow we spoke in that little chapel.

The rain shows no signs of letting up, and I see Phoenix making calculations in his head—how long we’ve been out, when I last ate, whether my blood sugar might be dropping.

“Come on,” I say, making the decision for both of us. “Let’s go back to the hotel. We can order room service and fall asleep watching terrible romantic movies.”

“Are you sure? If there’s anything else on your list—”

“The list is complete,” I interrupt. “Everything I wanted to do in Vegas, I’ve done. And I did it all with you.”

The smile he gives me could power the entire strip. “Then let’s go home. Well, hotel home.”

We make a mad dash through the rain, both of us shrieking and laughing as we get thoroughly soaked again. By the time we reach our hotel, we’re both dripping, breathless, and completely ridiculously happy.

I’ve never been so grateful to be on the ground floor in a hotel before. Phoenix’s hand is warm in mine, and I feel the weight of my wedding ring, solid and real as we rush for our door.

“Best bucket list ever,” I say as he slides the key card into our door.

“Wait until you see what I have planned for tomorrow,” he replies, and the mischief in his voice makes me grin.

“More surprises?”

“Always, Mrs. Evans. Always.”

Mrs. Evans.

The name sends a thrill through me every time I hear it. I’m still Clover Cadell in every way that matters, but I’m also Phoenix’s wife now. I’m part of something bigger than myself, something that feels like coming home and starting an adventure all at the same time.

As Phoenix opens the door to our room, I take one last look out onto the Vegas streets. Somewhere beyond the neon lights is the real world, with all its complications, dangers, and difficult conversations.

But for now, for tonight, it’s just us.

Just Phoenix and Clover Evans, completely soaked, happy, and hopelessly in love in a Vegas hotel room, with the rest of our lives stretching out ahead of us like an endless highway full of possibility.

What more could I want out of a romantic movie than that?