Cyrus (The Henchmen MC 9)

Reign was the kind of man who respected a comeback like that, though, so he nodded his chin at me before turning to Cy. "Words later," he said, then moved away.

I swear, that order sent a shiver through my body and it wasn't even meant for me. Feeling it, Cy gave me a squeeze, then started moving toward the side, shouldering gravel-voiced man whose name I hadn't caught out of the way. "I'm gonna go show Ree my room. When we come back out, it'd be nice if you guys didn't corner her like a bunch of starving dogs faced with a steak."

With that, I was being led through the clubhouse that was, surprisingly, pretty well kept and clean, though it was definitely all-man. We walked past a door that led into a kitchen, and moved down a hall of doors. One, it seemed, for each member of the club. What would they do when their numbers got larger again?

We went almost all the way to the end of the hall before Cyrus reached to open a door, ushering me inside as he flicked on the lights.

And I finally, finally got to see what Cy's place looked like. Because Cyrus, I found out while we small-talked over dinner in the city, didn't keep an apartment. He had no reason to. He needed to be at the compound most of the time, so what was the point of moving away?

That being said, I always felt like someone's personal space said a lot about them. Kenzi's room had always been stylish and feminine. Paine's place had always been manly, but super comfortable. Enzo's apartments were always very streamlined and almost obsessively neat. My mom's house was full of our old school pictures, and art created by Kenzi and Paine who had skills at that which I never possessed. But she did have a big picture of the intricate Pemberley scene I had colored out of an adult coloring book when I was eighteen. My place had a lot of books.

Cyrus, well, it was surprising, but also completely right at the same time.

The walls were a deep, but somehow light, soothing blue color. The bed was maybe a queen, with a plain wooden headboard, and a striped blue and white comforter. Above his bed were three shelves, lined with various pictures of his family when they were all younger, smiling faces of him, his sister, and brother, as well as a father who, unlike the current Henchmen, screamed "biker" with his long, stringy hair, leather pants, and chain necklace. At the foot of his bed was a small, understated couch where his guitar was placed, a notebook sitting open on the other cushion, his neat, small handwriting scribbled all over the lined pages. Across from that against the wall near the door was a dresser with a TV on top and an 8-in-1 gray turntable where he had a pile of vinyl, CDs, and two separate iPods.

Family. Music. And soothing blue.

Somehow it perfectly described him.

At the end of the room was a door that led to a small bathroom with a white sink cabinet in front of a large mirror, a shower stall, and the expected toilet.

Nowhere were there any windows.

It had actually never occurred to me before, no matter how many times I had passed The Henchmen compound in my life, that there was not a single window in the place. Except, of course, in more recent times, that giant glass room thing overlooking not only the grounds, but half the town as well.

Okay, so maybe I had thought a time or two about how that was the absolutely ideal reading spot. All you needed was an air pot for your coffee, a little LED camping lantern, and a good book. You could read under the stars. It was very romantic.

"Ree," Cy's voice called.

"Yeah?" I asked, a bit distracted by my own thoughts.

"Why didn't you tell me about your brothers?"

Oh, right.

I turned, shaking my head. "I was going to tell you. It just... there was no reason to when we were just friends, and then, I don't know, everything happened so fast. And I didn't want to ruin a perfect weekend talking about how they would likely not approve of this and... what?" I asked as a smile pulled at his lips.

"Perfect weekend, huh?"

"Oh please," I snorted. "You know that was the ultimate getaway for me."

"Yeah," he agreed, all easy-going boyish charm again. "I kinda did."

"I don't remember if I ever thanked you," I realized suddenly.

"You did," he said, making my belly unclench. "Last night. Then again this morning... maybe again in a couple minutes..."

"That's not what I meant!" I objected with a laugh.

"No?" he asked, pretending to be genuinely confused as he pulled the front of my body against his, his hands moving down my back to sink into my butt. "Are you sure?"