Page 10 of Ky

We arrive in one of the exam rooms, and she motions with her head to the metal bed in the middle of the room as she busies herself collecting supplies.

“Sit!” she instructs in a voice I hadn’t heard before that gets my blood pumping in my veins and my cock hardening in my jeans. I do as she says and wait for her to turn around.

I don’t miss the way her eyes scan me, taking in everything—from my dark, wavy shoulder-length hair tied back in a manbun, to the beard that covers half my face, neatly trimmed and short.

The tattoos on my tanned arms and legs on full display since I was wearing a black sleeveless tank top and matching shorts, running shoes on my feet.

“Enjoying the view?” I ask with a grin in my voice and on my face. The color in her cheeks turns beet red, wordlessly placing all the supplies she needs next to her, taking my arm in a firm grip, as she sets to work patching me up. My nostrils fill up with the scent of jasmine and patchouli. It took everything inside of me to keep seated, and to not grab for her, her tongue peeking out to moisten her full bow-shaped lips.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, without looking at me.

“For?” I ask. Mesmerized by her efficiency, even though I couldn’t stop a hiss of pain when she dabbed alcohol onto the cut.

“Helping me with the thug,” she answers, placing gauze over the wound.

“We really should stop meeting like this. Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I demand curtly.

I’ve fought to keep my distance these last six months since she’s been living in Briar Creek, but being this close to her now, I don’t know how much longer I can do it.

She remains silent, swallowing anxiously, focusing all her attention on patching me up and refusing to look at me. I know she’s hiding something.

Is she in danger?

Maybe she’s hiding from her husband?

I shake my head. “I didn’t think so,” I reply, making a mental note to get in touch with Kon, my uncle. Maybe he can unravel what’s going on? Maybe he was someone I should’ve spoken to a long time ago.

She goes for indifference, but she’s not fooling me, her eyes unable to meet mine as she answers, so I know she’s not telling me the whole truth. Reminding me of the time, four years ago, when I was shot by her husband in the warehouse where I had an underground fight with one of his top fighters. Then there was the fire that destroyed both our businesses all those months ago.

She was cagey about it back then, too.

“Look, I’m grateful to you for helping me out earlier. But there really was no need, I can take care of myself,” she mumbles, sliding an errant piece of chestnut brown hair behind her ear and away from her face, as she steps back, running her palms down her thick jean clad thighs. All the while not looking at my face.

“If you say so,” I reply dryly, hopping down from the table. I reach out and snag her chin with my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at me,

“I’ll give you one more chance to come clean with me. I’m even willing to get my entire club involved for you if you’re in danger. But if you won’t tell me what’s going on, then I can’t help you, and if you don’t want my help, then I don’t see any reason for us to be in each other's orbit. Thanks for patching me up.”

Taking one last look at her, standing in front of me, I chuckle without humor before turning on my heel and walking out.

After locking up the gym, I mount my sled and rev the engine, peeling out of the parking lot. I stop a few feet down the road and wait. I didn't offer to drive her home, but I couldn't let her leave without making sure she got home safe and sound.

A few minutes later, her car drives past, and I follow at a safe distance so she can’t tell it’s me behind her.

Ten minutes later, I stop just before the house where she parks her car in the driveway, a cute house with gray wood siding and white trim, bright flowers in neat little flower beds and the lawn green and manicured—all in a quiet neighborhood.

She gets out of the car and walks up to the door, letting herself inside. When the lights turn on, I’m just about to leave when I notice a blacked-out SUV parked further along the street. Gripping my phone, I send a text to one of the prospects to come to her house ASAP.

Grudgingly, riding away from the quiet neighborhood, deciding this was something I needed to tell my dad about, I couldn’t keep silent any longer.

Needing the company of a sweet butt, since I’ve been as hard as a pike being in Sera’s presence again. Better no strings sex than starting something with the doc in Cullville again.

With a sense of relief, I make my way towards the clubhouse, knowing that Sera is safe, at least for tonight.

CHAPTER FIVE

Seraphina

Leaning back against the closed door, closing my eyes, I listen to the sound of the motorcycle as it rode away. A sense of security washes over me as I push off the door and shake my head. I’d seen him park a few houses down from mine and almost marched over to him to see what the hell he was doing following me to my house.