Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

“Better now that you’re back. How’d it go in there?”

“Good.” Something crinkles and I drop my gaze to a brown paper-wrapped package in his hands. “Feel like taking a trip upstairs with me?”

“Of course.” I stand and follow him to the stairs.

“Actually, I want to take the trip we talked about soon,” he says.

“You’re sure it will be okay, right?” The last thing he needs is trouble with his parole officer.

“She said it would be and I feel guilty I haven’t been downstate, yet.”

“Oh.” Downstate. My stomach clenches. Am I really ready to see that place again? Maybe Gray should go by himself for the first visit.

His jaw tightens. Maybe it’s finally sinking in for him what having an ex-club girl for a girlfriend really means. Upstate is an anomaly. As much as Z’s done to change things downstate, brothers like Sway, Hustler, and Tiny won’t be able to keep their mouths shut about me. They’ll make snide comments that border on disrespect whenever they think they can get away with it. They’ll say it’s a “joke” but everyone will know the truth.

We reach Gray’s room and he opens the door, motioning for me to go in ahead of him.

Now, ol’ Queen Bitch Tawny is a different matter. She’ll talk trash as soon as Grayson’s out of earshot. Picturing her shellacked beehive and overly made-up face makes my stomach flip. I promised myself I’d never let anyone belittle me again. But those cute affirmations and promises mean nothing in the MC world.

“Serena?” Gray sits on the bed and pats the space next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I force an awkward smile and clutch my stomach. “Um, I guess I’ll see how I feel?”

“Serena,” he says in a sterner tone. “Let’s not do this dance. I already know you used to spend time at the downstate charter.”

Spend time. That’s one way to phrase it.

I lift my chin.

“Are you embarrassed to be my ol’ lady?”

“What?” Shock stabs the hesitation out of me. I slide closer to him. “Never, no.”

He curls his free arm around me. “No? You sure you’re not embarrassed to have the grandpa ex-con’s baby?”

Tears sting my eyes. “Please don’t say things like that. It’s not true. I’ve never felt that way. Not once.” I bury my face against his shoulder and hug him tighter.

He lets out a rough chuckle and pats my back. “Good to know.”

“Grayson.” I readjust myself, swinging my leg over him so I’m straddling his lap. He leans back, bracing himself against the mattress. “I can’t wait for our baby to get here. I love you so much.” I burrow against him even harder. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed to be with me,” I whisper.

“Serena.” He gently places his hands on my shoulders and pushes me upright. Our eyes meet and he brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “As a general rule, I hate people in my business. But that’s got nothing to do with you. I feel like the luckiest bastard on the planet that you’re by my side. Don’t ever, ever doubt that.”

“Okay,” I whisper, touching my forehead to his and closing my eyes.

He shifts and I almost fall out of his lap. Laughing, I roll to the side and sit next to him.

“I wanted to plan this better.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “Fuck it.” He curls his fingers around the bundle he’d carried into the room. “I want you to have this now.”

“What is it?”

“This.” He unwraps the bundle and I realize it’s not a random lump of satin. It’s a black leather vest folded inside-out to protect the patches sewn into the leather.

My breath catches and I scoot away.

That’s not what I think it is. It can’t be. Not this soon.

“Serena.” He smooths the vest over his lap so the back patch faces me.

Property of Grinder.

My nose stings. Tears prickle my eyes and my vision blurs. Complicated and contradictory emotions whirl through my stomach. Once, I thought I’d do anything to wear a brother’s property patch. To have a place in someone’s life. To belong and be respected by the club as someone precious to a brother.

After cleansing club life from my system, the notion of being someone’s property bothered me. I swore I’d never have anything to do with a motorcycle club and their strange rituals again.

Now, I don’t care about the club aspect at all. I just want to be branded by Grayson and connected to him in every way possible. Forever.

I’m too scared to say any of that, though. So, I sit there staring at the patch, waiting for him to explain. I don’t want to assume anything.

“Will you wear my patch?” he asks in a low voice. “Wear it so every biker we meet on the road knows you’re mine and I’ll kill to protect you.”