He made a sound of disapproval and led her up a series of hallways and a set of stairs. The compound was huge. She’d be terrified here if it wasn’t for him, and that didn’t make any sense.
Near the end of a hallway, he held open a door. She stepped inside what she assumed was his bedroom. There was a king-sized bed, the blankets bunched up on one side. The room smelled like him, a delicious mix of leather and musk.
“You’re the first woman who’ll be sleeping in that bed.”
She turned to look at him. He wasn’t joking.
“Are you a virgin, too, Lord?” She bit her lip to keep from giggling.
“I don’t let whores in my bed.”
He walked over to a dark wooden dresser. It looked like an antique. He picked up a two-way radio and began reciting a long list of food dishes. She only half paid attention as she was busy exploring his room, taking in as much as possible. Her future was as uncertain as her feelings.
The colors around her were dark: blacks, browns, and some burgundies. His choice of furniture was classic and timeless. It didn’t look like what she’d expect a biker’s bedroom to look like, but she had no clue what she actually expected.
“I’m having some clothes sent up for you. You’ll need to be comfortable while you’re here.”
She turned to his voice and saw him set the radio down. “How long will that be?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“What does that mean? Do I get to leave once to take my virginity? Or am I your prisoner forever?”
“You’re talkative for a girl who should be dead. I’ve never gone soft when dealing with rats. And that’s exactly what’s happening here. I’m not sure what to make of it.”
He sounded disappointed with himself for keeping her alive, like being human was a weakness. With his reputation, she was a bit surprised herself.
“My father was a rat, not me.”
“And what are you, Ally Prixman?”
Her body immediately tensed. There was this sliver of hope that he felt the same odd pull between them. Maybe his conflict was proof that she was more than an average woman to him. Or she was dreaming and her fantasies would come crashing down in a hurry.
“I’m … I’m just a girl trying to survive in life. Trying to find happiness even when it’s constantly being stripped away from me.”
“So you’re a glass-half-full kind of girl.” He winked.
He didn’t pity her. It was refreshing.
His calm, deep baritone soothed her. He never made eye contact, just continued doing what he’d been doing despite the fact she’d just left herself vulnerable. It was rare for her to share her deep-seated feelings.
Lord tugged off his t-shirt. His shoulders were huge and corded with muscle, his skin covered in intricate ink. She couldn’t stop staring. He was a beast of a man.
He rooted in his drawer, then pulled on a white wife-beater. When he turned, she quickly looked to the floor. The shirt hugged his muscles, highlighting those six-pack abs. Her cheeks felt as hot as a cooktop. Did he realize she’d been staring? Maybe drooling?
He chuckled. “Your age is showing.”
She cocked her head to the side. “What does that mean?”
“You haven’t lost your innocence.” Someone knocked on his door, capturing her attention. “I like that.” He went to answer it.
She could smell the food almost immediately. Her stomach rumbled in response. The last time she’d eaten was over twenty-four hours ago, and it hadn’t been much. Just some leftovers she’d managed at the bar.
“Sweetheart, give me a hand.”
It took her a few seconds to realize he was talking to her. She wasn’t used to terms of endearment, even if it was normal for him.
Ally walked closer to the door. Three scantily clad women stood in the hall holding trays of food. Lord handed one to her and told her to put it on the bed.
After the door closed tight, she couldn’t help but comment, “This looks a lot better than the sandwich they gave me.”
“I’m their prez. They make sure to give me the best.”
He set his tray next to hers on the bed. It was a feast, a smorgasbord of food she wasn’t used to. Everything looked mouthwatering, like a meal fit for a king—or the president of a motorcycle club. Lord flicked on the large screen television.
“Here are some clothes.” He tossed a few women’s clothes on the mattress near her. “Why don’t you get changed, then we can enjoy this food and watch a movie.”
Ally was genuinely confused but was too scared to complain and ruin a good thing. Her curiosity got the better of her and she couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
He froze, obviously taken aback. Time seemed to stand still as he stared at her, his shoulders back and eyes cold. What had she done?
“Don’t mistake kindness for weakness, little girl. Trust me, when the time comes, you won’t be able to say the same thing.”
She swallowed hard but kept pushing. “Why?”
He growled, his jaw twitching. “Just eat the fucking food.”
This time, she kept her thoughts to herself. Honestly, she didn’t want things to change between them. Right now, she felt calm and safe—even if she was technically his prisoner. It was a big change from her usually hectic and unpredictable life. She had a roof over her head, clothes, food, and a man she was undeniably falling for.
She knew it wasn’t healthy. She knew she had issues. And it still didn’t change a thing.
But a man like Lord would never be satisfied with a nineteen-year-old nobody. He was surrounded by drop-dead gorgeous women. Women with experience. Women who knew how to please a man. Like he said, she was just a little girl to him.
She had nothing to offer.
Lord settled on the opposite side of the bed, the mattress dipping and jostling the platters. He leaned on one elbow and popped some fresh grapes into his mouth, glancing over at her as she took a bite of her lasagna. It tasted so good that she couldn’t help but let out a little moan.
He smirked but kept quiet.
“Do you have a chef working here?”
“A couple,” he said.
She wasn’t expecting that answer. There was very little she knew about the inner workings of a motorcycle club. What she’d learned had been from patrons at the bar, things she’d overheard when they got too loud. Other than that, everything was new to her.
After eating her fill, she picked at a few of the sweets. They looked like they were taken straight from the display case of a bakery.
“I haven’t eaten this good … ever,” she said.
“You’re joking.”
She shook her head. “I’m not.” Ally wiped her mouth with a napkin and plopped back on the oversized pillow.
“Things are going to change. You’ll never go hungry again. Your bastard father didn’t deserve a daughter like you.”
Ally twisted to the side to face him. God, he was sexy as fuck. “You talk like I’m something special. I’m not.”
“You’re a lot more than you think.”
She bit her lower lip, knowing she was about to throw his words back in his face. “I’m a fuck toy, remember?”