Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

He curls his arm around my waist. “Not tonight.”

His tone leaves no room for argument.

Birch and Hoot are also on kitchen duty. I recognize Stitch and another prospect whose name I never learned carrying heavier trays to the table.

Z stands in front of the buffet.

“Blocking a pack of hungry bikers from food is an interesting tactic,” I mutter.

Gray rumbles with laughter and kisses the top of my head. “He’s got the brawn to go with his big mouth.”

“All right.” Z’s deep voice carries through the dining room, quieting everyone. “Tonight, we’re celebrating one of our brothers patching his old lady. Everyone make sure you congratulate Grinder and Serena tonight.” He points in our direction. Everyone claps, hoots, or whistles at us.

Heat floods my cheeks as the cheering goes on and on. Feeling overwhelmed and strangely shy, I duck my face against Gray’s chest. He curls a protective arm around me. “Thank you.” His voice rumbles against my cheek. “All right, that’s enough. Knock it off.”

“Knock it off has always been code for do more of it around here,” Charlotte says, patting me on the back.

I pull away from Gray and smile at her. “That’s true.”

“They’ll get bored eventually and hassle someone else.” She glances up at Teller. “Right?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Eventually.”

Gray kisses my forehead. “You feel all right?” he asks in a low voice.

“My stomach’s a little jumpy,” I admit.

“Let’s find a seat. I’ll get you some ginger ale.”

“Thank you.” My nervous stomach doesn’t have as much to do with being pregnant as it does with having so much attention focused on me. It feels like having an anvil hanging over my head, waiting to fall when the first brother questions why Gray would ever want me for his ol’ lady. I cling to his hand, not wanting him to leave my side. But Teller and Charlotte follow us to one of the long, wide tables. Rock and Hope are already situated at the head of the table, with little Grace sitting in her daddy’s lap like it’s her personal throne.

“Oh,” I breathe out. “She’s so cute.”

“Here, Serena.” Hope pats the table in front of the chair closest to her.

“Uh…” I hesitate, staring from Hope to Gray. Isn’t that where Lilly should be sitting? Or Trinity? My gaze scans the length of the table. Lilly’s seated in the middle, deep in conversation with Shelby. And I don’t see Trinity anywhere. Or Wrath for that matter. “Okay.”

Gray squeezes my shoulder briefly once I’m seated and leaves in search of my ginger ale.

“She’s getting so big,” I say to Hope, nodding at Grace.

“I know.” She turns and scoops her daughter out of Rock’s lap. He kisses Grace’s cheek as Hope lifts her in the air.

“Wow, that’s quite a party outfit.” I reach over and run my fingers over the soft blue velvet sleeve of Grace’s little bodysuit. Dainty ruffles puff over the shoulders. Layers of silver tulle trimmed in velvet fan out around her bottom.

Hope runs her hand over her daughter’s head. “It came with a big silver bow, but that got lost somewhere between our house and here.”

“Lost, my ass,” Teller says, squatting next to Hope’s chair to look Grace in the eye. “You tossed that thing like a football, didn’t you?”

Grace squees and reaches for him.

Hope chuckles. “Probably.”

“Come here, little bandit.” Teller lifts Grace from Hope’s lap like she weighs nothing, whispering words that make her giggle.

I blink, watching him handle Rock’s daughter so easily. “She’s lucky to have so many uncles looking out for her,” I say to Hope.

She reaches for Teller and squeezes his forearm, drawing his attention. “Uncles, yes. She is.”

Okay, weird.

“Teeee!” Alexa slams into Teller’s legs. “Come play wiff meeeee!”

“I’ve been summoned.” He hands Grace back to Hope. Alexa jumps up to give her friend a smooch, then runs away, yelling for Teller to follow.

Grace frowns as she watches them leave.

“Aw, what happened?” I coo at her.

She whips her head around and beams at me.

“Can I…can I hold her, Hope?” I ask.

“Sure.”

I move my chair closer. Grace studies me before deciding my lap’s a safe landing spot. Her gaze focuses on the patch over my heart and her tiny fingers touch the yellow threads. “Pee-tee.”

“Thank you.” Gray keeps calling our baby a “he” but oh my God, the longer I hold Grace, the more I hope we’re having a girl.

“I try not to foist her on my baby-free friends,” Hope says, almost apologetically. “Don’t be afraid to hand her to me if she’s too much.”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

As if she’s agreeing with me, Grace flashes a big, dimpled smile.

“You are so cute,” I whisper.

“What do you have here?” Gray’s voice rumbles behind me.

He sets a cup of bubbling tan liquid in front of me. Grace reaches for it, but I pick it up and take a quick sip before setting it farther away.