Hero (The VII Knights MC)

“I’mma call it a night.” Raising my beer to Hollywood, I head toward my room.

“Um…someone stopped by for you,” Hollywood begins, and I freeze. I take a sip, waiting for him to finish.

“No they didn’t. It was nobody,” Tye says, her voice rising. Glancing over my shoulder, I look at Hollywood with a raised brow. What the fuck is going on?

“Monet came looking for you,” Hollywood finishes, and Tye’s face turns red.

“You sure?” I question.

He nods, and Tye huffs before stomping out of the club. Hollywood watches her leave, then gives me an angry look. Okay, maybe I did cockblock him.

Setting my beer down on the counter, I start toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Pegs asks, his arms out like he really doesn’t know.

“To get my butterfly,” I mutter. This whole cliché bullshit of let a butterfly go and if it comes back, it’s yours is overrated. She came here looking for me, and that’s good enough for me.

* * *

Monet

“Dammit, Bats, you’re such a little asshole!” I holler, dumping the clothes into the washing machine. He didn’t shit on them, but they definitely smell like piss. He’s always knocking shit over, tearing things up, and hissing. It’s official. I hate cats.

Reaching over the top of the washer, I turn the dial to normal cycle and press start. Bats meows, running through my feet.

“What the hell is your problem?” He hunches back and hisses toward the living room. Roonie probably left the vacuum out again. He hates that thing. Using my foot, I push him out of my way and go into the living room to put it up. If I don’t, he won’t let me sleep tonight. He’ll howl in the worst way possible at my door. My feet hit the soft carpet in the dark living room, but the vacuum isn’t out. “What the hell is your problem Bats?”

“You came back to me.”

Jerking around at the sound of a low, rugged voice, Godric sits on the couch, his legs crossed, arms sprawled out across the back. With just a lamp glowing from the side table, it casts a small amount of light that shadows him in an eerie way. He looks good though, great even. His hair hangs in the way of those beautiful eyes, a snug black shirt, his leather cut proudly showing he’s President.

Clearing my throat, I realize I’m only in a tiny tank top and shorts. I cross my arms to cover my breasts.

“How did you get in here?” I know I locked the door. I always do.

“Is it true? Did you want to see me?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“I did, but I was told you didn’t want to see me.” My eyes fall to the floor. Just hearing myself say it feels like a stab to the chest.

“That’s not true,” he snaps, grabbing my attention.

“No?” I need more. I want to hear him tell me he misses me as much as I missed him. That we belong together. That me finding my own two feet was okay.

He swiftly stands, and my arms fall to my sides, tears threatening to spill. His thumb and index finger clasp my chin, forcing me to look up at him. A shaky breath falls from my mouth as I look into his icy blue eyes.

“I’ve been watching you, waiting for you to come back on your own, and it’s killed me. I’ve missed you so fucking much.” His words hold pain, and that’s how I know he’s telling the truth. All those nights I felt as if someone was staring at me through the diner windows…it was him all along. He’s always been close by. Watching over me, protecting me.

“I’ve missed you too.” A tear rolls down my cheek.

Lowering his head, he presses his mouth to mine, soaking up my sadness.

“Tell me you’re coming back to me,” he whispers against my mouth.

Lifting both my hands, I cup his face, the smell of his leather cut and woodsy cologne making me inhale a second longer than normal. God, I missed him. I dreamed of this.

“Yes…” My voice cracks. “I’m so sorry I left. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, you needed to. When my brother died, I needed time, and you needed to do your thing. We both needed to find solace, and now that we have, the only thing missing to this happily ever after is us, together.” I laugh at how cliché is all sounds, and he smiles.

My hand on his chest, I sniffle back my sadness. He kisses me, and I kiss him back, just a faint brush of our lips, before I deepen it, clinging to him. My heart beats faster, and I almost whimper at the relief that floods my system. My arms and legs tangling around his, and we stumbled on each other’s feet and fall onto the couch. He seems just as anxious to see me, his hands all over me, his breathing near frantic. Jerking off his cut, his knee presses into the cushion as I continue to kiss him.