Page 64 of Ky
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his waist, letting the stress of what just transpired between Ky and me leave my body. We stay like that for at least a few minutes, before I decide I’ve had enough moping.
If he wants to act like a broody asshole, then so be it. But I refuse to do it any longer.
“Come on,” I tell Ink, grabbing his hand as I lead him into the kitchen. “You’re staying for dinner, and you’re going to help me cook it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ky
I park my sled in the driveway of my home, throwing my leg over, standing beside it, and just listening.
The house is in total darkness.
What did I think was going to happen after returning home past midnight? That it would be bathed in light and my woman would be up waiting for me? I wouldn’t be surprised if she changed the locks in the interim.
The street was in complete darkness, save for the few streetlights lighting the way. Tucking my brain bucket under my arm, I made my way to the front door, retrieving the house keys from the pocket of my cut as I went. As the key turns in the lock, a wave of relief washes over me, and I exhale deeply.
I’d been gone all day and had left Sera unprotected. At the very least, I should’ve had a prospect at the house just to make sure she was okay.
When I got an angry text from Ink, telling me how I could leave Sera like that, I knew he’d been by the house to see her. With him here, she would be safe. On the one hand, I was glad he was there to watch over my family, but on the other, it pissed me off no end at how she so readily turns to him, despite his insistence that there’s nothing between them.
But the second guessing about my role in Sera’s life the entire way home just solidified my belief that we were meant to be together. I wasn’t going to let her go.
Not now. Not ever.
The two of us. Not her and Ink.
With that resolution in mind, I enter the house, unprepared for the dark figure standing before me, as I instinctively take upmy boxing stance, ready to defend myself, when I hear the guy’s voice, and a scowl replaces the shock on my face.
“I warned you not to hurt her,” Ink growls low at me.
“Fuck you, brother. I’m not in the mood for your shit right now.” I try to push past him, but he shoulder checks me and gets in my face.
“Well, fuckin’ make time, because we’re doing this now. You selfish prick, always just thinking of yourself. Your poor feelings got hurt, so you just run? Man the fuck up,” he spats back. We’re in complete darkness, but that doesn’t stop me from attempting to clock him in the jaw, but he sidesteps it, and I can see his shadow as he shakes his head. Before I can attempt another go, the lights turn on, and there’s Sera, dressed in only a T-shirt, standing on the landing, her arms crossed over her chest, staring daggers down at us.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Sera whisper hisses. “Are you trying to wake the kids?”
My fist stops midair, and I slowly lower it, feeling like an immature fool wanting to fight someone in the playground. She then turns her fiery brown eyes to Ink. “And what are you still doing here? I thought you left hours ago?”
My brother looks up at her unapologetically. “I wasn’t going to leave you and the kids unprotected all night,” he says, to which she rolls her eyes, coming down the last few steps, bare feet and all.
I swallow hard. How stupid could I be to have left her like that? Fucking Angelo could have lain in wait for her and taken her again, and I just throw a hissy fit and leave?
“Well, Ky is back. You can go now,” she says cooly, walking past us into the kitchen. His ice-blue eyes, sharp and focused, lock onto mine while he runs his hand through his short, bristly buzz cut. Covered in ink, which doesn’t end at his neck, in fact, it extends over the side of his head, gives him a menacing aura.Someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. And that’s the reason he’s the Sargeant at Arms of the club.
“If I have to come here again and see her upset over something you did, brother or not, I’m taking her for myself,” he warns beneath his breath before storming out of the house.
Clearing my throat, I stand in the middle of the living room for a beat before I head to the kitchen, where I can hear dishes and silverware clanging.
“What are you doing, sweetness?” I ask, standing, still wearing my cut, my arms crossed over my chest.
“I’m curing world hunger, what does it look like I’m doing?” she sasses back, her eyes pinning me to the spot, as she dishes out a slice of lasagne and a mixed salad on the side. I can’t help the genuine belly laugh that escapes me.
“Looks to me like you're curing my hunger, sweetness,” I drawl, eyeing her. “But seeing you dressed just in a T-shirt, and mine at that, with those bare feet, makes me think of a different hunger right now, and I want to bend you over this island and pound inside you until we’re both sated.”
The only sign to show me she’s in the same frame of mind as me is the slight blush to her cheeks, but she tightens her hold on the plate and walks it to the round kitchen table. Placing it on the table, together with the salad, she stands back.
“Sit. Eat,” she orders.