Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I woke up to the heavy, rich smell of hot coffee and fresh leather. For a few seconds, I felt completely lost and confused as I blinked my eyes open in the middle of the massive, king-sized black bed. Bright morning sunlight filtered softly through the window blinds, casting long, straight shadows across the room. My brain felt fuzzy from sleep. For one brief moment, I completely forgot where I was.

Then, like a sudden tidal wave, every single detail from last night came rushing back into my mind. I remembered my poor car breaking down on the dark highway. I remembered walking into that rowdy, smoke-filled bar. I remembered the heavy, rough feeling of Stone’s thumb pressing against my lower lip. And across the room, sitting quietly over the back of a wooden chair, was his large leather vest with the bold "Property of Stone" patch stitched onto the front.

I looked over at the wooden dresser. My cell phone was completely gone. Of course it was. Stone had taken it last night, and he clearly had no intention of leaving it where I could reach it.

I sat up slowly in the giant bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the backs of my hands. That was when I realized Stone was already wide awake. He was standing perfectly still by the large wall of windows on the far side of the room. He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose, low-slung gray sweatpants. His broad, massive chest and thick arms were completely bare, showing off every single line of his dark, intricate tattoos. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest as he stood there silently, watching the club compound down below.

The bright morning light hit his body perfectly, carving sharp, deep lines across his heavily muscled back and broad shoulders. Even without his leather vest, even without his club patches, he looked every single bit like a ruthless, powerful president. He looked like a man who ruled his world with an iron fist.

"Morning, little dove," Stone said. His voice was a low, gravelly morning rumble. He didn't even turn his head around to look at me, but he knew the exact second I had moved in his bed.

A sudden rush of bright, burning heat flooded right into my cheeks. I pulled the black blankets up a little higher around my chest. "It was... fine. Good morning."

I glanced over at the small leather couch in the corner of the room where he was supposed to have slept. The blankets on it looked completely neat and untouched. It looked like he hadn't slept a single wink last night. Or maybe a man like him just didn't need sleep the way normal people did.

He finally turned his body around slowly, his dark, intense eyes locking onto me. He dragged his gaze slowly down my frame, taking in the fact that I was still wearing my simple tank top and denim jeans from the day before.

"You are going to need some fresh clothes," he said, his tone flat and calm. "One of the club's old ladies will bring some options up for you later today. Until that happens, you stay right next to me. You don't leave my side."

I nodded my head quickly, not trusting my own voice to speak yet. This was only day number two of whatever crazy deal I had signed up for, and already the real weight of this life felt much heavier, much more intense, than anything I had ever imagined in my head.

Stone crossed the large bedroom with slow, heavy steps. He walked over to his closet, pulled out a fresh, clean black t-shirt, and walked back over to the bed. He handed it to me. It was his shirt, and it looked big enough to be a dress on my small frame.

"Put this on for now," he ordered softly. "Breakfast is in ten minutes. The entire club eats together in the main room."

I took the soft shirt from his hand, our fingers brushing for a split second, sending a tiny spark of electricity straight up my arm. He turned around to give me privacy, and I quickly slipped out of my clothes and pulled his massive t-shirt over my head. It smelled exactly like himleather, wood, and pure power. It swallowed me completely, hanging all the way down to my thighs.

Ten minutes later, I followed him down the wide wooden stairs. Downstairs, the main room had completely transformed from the wild, dangerous chaos of the night before. Now, it looked almost domestic, like a strange kind of family home.

Several long wooden tables had been pushed together in the center of the room. They were completely covered with massive platters of hot foodscrambled eggs, piles of crispy bacon, stacks of toast, and large pots of steaming, strong black coffee. About fifteen huge, rugged-looking Reapers were already sitting down, digging into the food with large appetites. Their voices were loud, rough, and full of deep laughter. A few womenthe "old ladies" of the clubmoved around the space comfortably. They were refilling coffee mugs, talking easily, and trading playful jokes with the men.

Jax, the Vice President, spotted us the exact second we reached the bottom of the stairs. A wide, shark-like grin spread across his tattooed face.

"Well, look at that! She actually survived her very first night in the room with the Prez," Jax shouted out loudly, making several bikers look up from their breakfast plates. "You holding up okay, Tessa?"

"Barely," I muttered under my breath, my face turning red all over again.

Stone did not say a word to Jax. He walked over to a spot at the long table, pulled out a heavy wooden chair, and waited for me to sit down. As soon as I slid into the seat, he sat down right beside me. He sat so close that his heavy, muscular thigh was pressed tightly against mine under the table. The heat of his leg burned right through my clothes. Before he even picked up a fork, his large, warm hand settled flat and possessively right on top of my knee. He kept it there the entire time, a constant, heavy weight that reminded everyone in the room exactly who I belonged to.

The routine of the club hit me very quickly. I realized fast that breakfast was not optional around here. Every single member had to show up. As they ate, the older men shared important updates about club business, using coded words and strange phrases that I couldn't quite understand. Lower-level guys, the prospects, ran around the room like busy servants, pouring more coffee and cleaning up plates for the patched members.

Halfway through the meal, Stone cleared his throat loudly. The entire room went completely dead silent in an instant. He wrapped his massive arm around my shoulders, pulling me tightly against his side like a permanent brand.

"Listen up," Stone announced to the room, his deep voice carrying into every single corner of the house. "This is Tessa. She is completely mine now. Every single one of you will treat her with respect. Protect her like she belongs to the club."

No one said a single word against it. No one questioned the president's choice. Every biker in the room simply nodded their heads in silent agreement. A couple of the women sitting across the table gave me sympathetic, kind smiles.

Later on, while the men were gathered in a tight circle talking loudly about motorcycle engines and territory lines, one of those women walked over to me. It was the curvy brunette I had seen earlier. She was wearing a leather vest with a patch that read Property of Jax. Her name was Riley.

"It is a lot to take in at first, isn't it?" Riley asked quietly, leaning over to pour a fresh stream of hot coffee into my empty ceramic mug. She gave me a gentle, understanding smile. "The strict rules, the constant noise, the intense way these men claim you like a piece of valuable territory. It can feel terrifying. But listen to me, Tessa. Stone is a truly good, loyal man underneath all that scary iron and ink. He is as loyal as hell. Give it some time. You will adjust to it."

Adjust. That single word kept echoing over and over again inside my head as the rest of the long day began to unfold.

After breakfast was finished, Stone took me by the hand and led me on a full tour of the massive compound. He showed me the giant garage where several guys were covered in grease, working hard on broken motorcycle parts. I learned very quickly from the sharp looks they traded that I shouldn't ask any questions about the large wooden crates and "business" shipments stacked in the corners. Next, he led me out to the heavily fenced yard where a couple of huge bikers were sweating and sparring with each other, throwing heavy punches into leather pads. Finally, we visited the massive kitchen where the prospects handled the cooking and cleaning. Everything in this place ran like a well-oiled, powerful machineit was ruthless, but it was incredibly efficient.

I didn't want to just sit around looking helpless, so I tried to help out wherever I could. Riley saw me trying to be useful and put me to work inside the club's large supply room. My job was simple: sort through the inventory, stacking boxes of food and basic household supplies onto the high metal shelves.

For a little while, it felt normal. It felt like a regular, peaceful chore. But that normal feeling vanished because Stone checked on me every single thirty minutes. He would walk down the hallway, poke his massive head into the supply room, and just watch me for a moment before leaving. It was like he couldn't stand the thought of having me out of his sight for more than half an hour.

By the time the afternoon arrived, his deep obsession was showing completely.

"You good in here, little dove?" he asked, his rough voice breaking the quiet of the supply room.

I turned around around from the shelves. Stone was standing in the wooden doorway again. He was wiping dark black grease from his large hands with a dirty towel, having spent the last few hours working on his own motorcycle. The second his dark eyes landed on my face, the hard lines of his handsome face softened just a tiny fraction. But the burning intensity in his gaze never left. It felt like he was drinking me in.

"I am perfectly fine, Stone," I said, lifting a heavy metal can of soup and placing it neatly on the shelf. "Really. You don't have to keep walking all the way down here to check on me every few minutes."

"I do have to check on you," he countered simply.

He tossed the dirty towel onto a nearby table and took a slow step into the small supply room. He kept moving forward, his massive frame completely filling the small space until he had gently crowded my body against the tall metal shelves. I was trapped between his hard chest and the wall of cans. He smelled beautifully of motor oil, warm skin, and expensive leather.

"You are adjusting to this place much faster than I expected you to," he murmured, his dark eyes dropping down to look at my lips. "Most normal women would have tried to climb over that high fence and run away by now."

"Well, who says I still won't try to run away?" I teased him, trying to keep my voice light and playful. But the words came out much breathier and softer than I had intended, betraying how nervous his close proximity made me feel.

Stone’s large hand came up slowly. He cupped my jaw in his warm, rough palm. His calloused fingers felt incredibly good against my soft skin. He tilted my face up slightly, forcing me to look straight into his deep black eyes.

"You won't run," he said, his voice completely confident and final.

He lowered his thumb, gently tracing the outline of my full bottom liptouching the exact same spot he had pressed at the bar last night. The light touch sent a sudden shockwave of heat straight down to my toes.

"You won't run away, Tessa, because deep down inside that pretty head of yours, you are already starting to like it here," he whispered, his face moving closer to mine. "You like the absolute power of this club. You like the heavy protection I give you. You like me."

My heart stuttered wildly against my ribs, missing a full beat. I stared up at him, my breath catching in my throat. The scariest part of his words was the simple fact that he wasn't entirely wrong.

The sharp fear was definitely still there inside me, but underneath the fear, a strange, warm desire was starting to grow. Every single time he reached out to touch me, every single time he looked at me like I was the only precious thing that mattered in his violent, dangerous world, my old life back home began to feel smaller and smaller. A life with Tyler would be safe, yes. It would be normal, quiet, and predictable. But compared to the burning heat of Stone, that old life felt completely pale and boring.

"I still need to talk to Tyler at some point," I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper against his chest. "I need to clear things up with him. He is probably losing his mind wondering where I am."

The second the name Tyler left my mouth, Stone’s handsome face hardened into an icy mask of pure anger. The soft look in his eyes vanished instantly.

"No," Stone barked out. The single word was cold, final, and absolute. "You are not talking to him. That boy had his chance with you for two long years, Tessa. He blew it. Now, he gets to stand back and watch you ride on the back of my motorcycle. He gets to see you wearing my personal patch in public. That is the exact deal you made with me last night."

He leaned his head down further, resting his forehead flat against mine. He held me right there, forcing me to feel the intense heat of his skin.

"Just give it some time, little dove," he murmured, his rough voice vibrating against my lips. "The routine of this club will grow on you. Beautiful mornings spent right next to me. Hot nights spent sleeping in my bed. An entire club family having your back against the world. Soon enough, you won't even be able to remember what your boring life felt like before the Iron Reapers claimed you."

I let out a soft shiver at his words, but I didn't pull my body away from his touch. I stayed right there, trapped in his warm hold, wanting more.

Later that evening, as the bright sun began to set behind the tall trees and the compound's floodlights clicked on, I went outside and sat down on the wooden porch steps. I pulled his large black t-shirt over my knees, watching the guys work on their shiny bikes in the yard.

Stone was standing just a few feet away, talking quietly with Jax. But even while he was busy leading his club, his dark eyes kept moving back to find me in the dark. Every few minutes, he would turn his head and lock his gaze onto mine. He was always watching me. He was always claiming me from across the yard.

Earlier in the afternoon, Riley had returned my cell phone to me. When I opened it, I discovered that Tyler’s phone number had been completely deleted from my contacts list. There was no way to call him, no way to text him. I knew for a fact it was Stone’s doing, but strangely, I hadn't even tried to get angry about it.

I was adjusting to this dangerous place, alright. I was adjusting far too fast.

But as I sat there in the cool night air, watching the powerful president look over at me with total possession in his eyes, I realized the scariest part of this entire situation wasn't the loud noise of the motorcycles. It wasn't the constant danger of the club, or the strict, lawless routine of the compound.

The absolute scariest part of it all was how incredibly right it was starting to feel.