Page 25 of Bolt's Flame

I slipped back into the shadows as one of the bikers walked out of the clubhouse, scanning the grounds. Bolt. That’s what they called him. He was another one that had been spending too much time around Fiona, even taking her to town on his motorcycle. Watching her in a way I was very familiar with since I too liked to just gaze at her, Fiona was quietly captivating. This man was the real threat, because Fiona had been watching him too.

I turned away from the clubhouse, slipping deeper into the darkness. They wouldn’t see me, not yet. I’d let them have their fun, let them think they won. But soon, Fiona would be back where she belonged. I’d wait for the right moment, the perfect opportunity to strike. And when I did, she’d come back to me.

She didn’t have a choice.

Fiona can’t leave me;I won’t allow it.

THE NOISE FROMthe clubhouse was too much. I neededair, space, something to clear my head. Between the club drama with the Dragon Fire and the mess I’d made with Fiona, everything felt like it was closing in, making it hard to think, to breathe.

How was it possible to miss someone that you never had?

But I did.

I fucking missed Fiona.

I stepped out into the humid night, the door creaking shut behind me as the muffled sounds of the inside faded. The breeze brushed against my skin, the stars overhead barely visible behind the line of trees. It was the first time I’d felt like I could breathe all night. Fiona had been avoiding me for days, and when I did see her, she pretended I didn’t exist, looking right through me.

Man, I fucking hated it.

I walked a few steps away from the clubhouse, hands shoved deep in my pockets, trying to shake the tension that clung to me. But something didn’t feel right. My instincts kicked in, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

Someone was watching.

I scanned the shadows, every muscle in my body coiled, ready. Then I heard it—the soft rustle of footsteps behind me. I turned, half-expecting trouble, the other half hoping it was Fiona, but it wasn’t.

Jenny.

She sauntered out from the darkness, a smirk playing on her lips, her eyes gleaming under the moonlight. She leaned against a tree, arms crossed over her chest like she was waiting for me to notice her.

“Couldn’t stay inside, huh?” she asked, her tone overly sweet as she tugged her top down, giving me a wink. She must be some kind of stupid if she believed the sight of her tits was going to make me fuck her. It took more than a pair of nipples to get my cock interested.

“Needed a minute,” I muttered, turning my back to her, my eyes sweeping the yard one last time. I wasn’t in the mood for whatever game she was trying to play tonight.

Jenny wasn’t someone I had time for anymore. Not since Fiona showed up, now... things were different. Whether I liked it or not, they were different.

She stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against my arm. “Why don’t we take that minute together? Get away from all the noise and I’ll help you relax in the most pleasurable way possible.”

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to lash out at her since she just wouldn’t back off. “No.”

She tilted her head, her lips pouting as if she didn’t hear me. “Come on, Bolt. It’s not like we haven’t done this before... many times.”

“Get lost, Jenny.” I snarled. I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself to a fucking sweet butt, and I wasn’t about to lead her on.Not with all these feelings for Fiona. Not with my head so damn full of things I couldn’t figure out.

Jenny’s smile faltered, but before she could push it any further, I started walking back toward the clubhouse. I didn’t want to deal with her shit tonight, and she needed to get the message. The sweet butts knew the deal—no commitments.

I heard her footsteps behind me, slow, like she was reconsidering her approach.

But just as we neared the side of the clubhouse, something caught my eye. A woman, partially hidden in the shadows, swaying on the wooden swing we had tied to a branch of a big old oak tree. My pulse quickened.

Fiona.

She was sitting there, her feet moving the swing back and forth, her back hunched, head down, like she didn’t want anyone to notice her. But I did. I always noticed her.

“Jenny, go back inside,” I said over my shoulder, already veering off toward Fiona. I didn’t wait to see if Jenny followed my order; she didn’t matter anymore.

Fiona looked up as I approached, her eyes shadowed with something I couldn’t quite place. Hurt. Confusion. Hell, maybe both. I didn’t know how much she’d heard or how long she’d been sitting there, but this was my chance, and I wasn’t losing it.

I stopped a few feet away from her and asked, “Can I sit?”