CHRIS Read online

  Resting his arms beneath his head, he reckoned this was a decent enough space. It was formal and fancy where he was used to bare minimum, but hell, if it made her happy and kept her comfortable, that was all that mattered.

  She’d have the major say anyway when it came down to their den, as he really didn’t give a fuck about wall colors or whether they had tile or wooden floors. Shit like that had never mattered to him, and having a mate didn’t change that.

  A smile creased his lips at that.

  ‘Having a mate.’

  Jesus. Was this really happening?

  Sure, a part of him felt like a dirty old pervert, but another part was riled up with wonder at knowing that Ava, his mate, would soon be his in more than just words. It would soon be deed.

  A shudder wracked his frame at the notion but he hid it when he heard her bustle into the room. Swiftly sitting up, he watched as she darted about, picking things up here and there. A perfume bottle, a pot of lip balm.

  She had a small satchel that astonished him with its size, and when she turned to him he cocked a brow. “Is that everything?”

  “Yeah. You told me to pack light,” came the bright reply.

  “I just figured you’d need more.”

  A snort was his first reply. “I only got something fancy. Like you said, anything else we can buy on the road. I don’t need a lot of stuff.”

  Neither did most women in North America, but it wouldn’t stop them from packing two suitcases for a two day trip.

  Still, he wasn’t about to question his good fortune. He held out a hand for the bag, which she promptly passed over, then with his free hand, he grabbed hers.

  “Together,” he told her firmly, loving how she lowered her head timidly then, coyly, looked up at him under her lashes.

  The minx.

  Jesus, when she’d been Claimed, she’d give him a run for his money. He knew that like night kissed day every dawn and every dusk.

  As a unit, they strode over to the door. He opened it, let her pass, and waited for her to lock up—she was intensely private. It was why he was astonished she’d left the door unlocked when he’d come to visit. He could only assume his presence had riled her into forgetting, because there was no way she’d have known Mars was coming.

  Would she?

  The thought made a scowl pucker his brow.

  Had she set them up?

  He pursed his lips as they strode down the empty corridor, then, when the need to know burned a hole in his gut, he asked, “Was it a surprise to see your dad?”

  She blinked at him. “Of course. I didn’t expect for him to find us the way he did. How could I have?”

  “I just wondered if he’d said he’d come visit with you today or something.”

  She tugged at his hand and jerked him to a halt. “What you’re really asking is if I knew he was coming and if I plotted for him to catch us the way he did.” Her tone was bland but there were sparks in her eye. “Well, fuck you, Chris,” she retorted, firming her lips and pulling her hand from his. She stalked off down the hall though, and for a second, he was content to watch the delicious sway of her ass as she moved further away from him.

  Then, realizing she was heading down the stairs, he started to run to catch up with her.

  He grabbed her hand again, tugged her to a halt on the steps. She glowered up at him, her long blonde hair a tangle of waves about her shoulders, and those bright green eyes sparking flinty embers his way.

  “I had to ask,” he told her softly. “Better to ask than to let a doubt fester, no?”

  Her head tilted to the side at that, and he knew she was considering his words. After a few seconds, she nodded. Slowly. “You’re right,” she told him. “Very right.”

  It was like she’d just had an epiphany. The wonder to her words had his lips twitching in amusement.

  “Don’t laugh,” she snarled, narrowing her gaze at him. “I’m only letting you off being so goddamn suspicious because I like the way you reasoned that. I don’t want arguments and points of contention to fester between us. I’d prefer to hash things out then get on with our lives.”

  “That’s exactly how I want it too,” he told her easily, speaking the earnest truth.

  And he couldn’t lie‒ her maturity astonished him.

  Because of the distance he’d placed between them, he knew Mundo’s youngest cub better than his own mate. Jessie was only a few years younger but a lifetime more immature.

  She was flirty and flighty, young in nature and naive.

  She truly was a cub, and the MC treated her as such. She had few responsibilities save for the MC’s clothes store where she worked and would, someday, take on more of a managerial role.

  It wasn’t necessarily fair, but the Council had long ago decided that the cubs had to be integrated into every aspect of the MC’s business strategy.

  If The Nomads were to survive and retain their place as a Clan in the Channelview, Houston area, then they needed to provide jobs for its brethren and their families.

  Chris was proud to say that he’d been a part of that. Even though he’d been born into a Clan in Michigan, he was Nomads till he died now.

  Something that was only confirmed by his mate being the President’s only baby girl.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, scowling at him then peering down at herself. “Are these jeans not right for the road?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make out you don’t know what to wear. I know you’ve broken your daddy’s rule more than once. I only let you get away with it because his leash on you was so tight. I thought it was strangling you. Plus, Matty is a good rider. One of the best.”

  “High praise.” Her brows rose. “I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment to him while ignoring the fact that you think you had the right to ‘let me get away with anything.’ You don’t have that right now, buster.”

  Rather than feel annoyed, he chuckled. “Thought that might piss you off.”

  “Yeah? Then why did you say it?”

  He shrugged. “I like getting a rise out of you. You’re cute when you’re mad.” Her eyes widened, and just when he thought steam was about to come bursting out of her ears, a whirlwind scurried down the corridor.

  Mischa burst between them, gaze passing between the pair of them. “Is it true?” She clapped her hands. “Oh my God, it is!”

  Ava’s irritation died a swift death as she grinned at her friend. Mischa held out her arms and Ava rushed into them for a hug.

  “Babushka, I’m so happy for you.” She squeezed Chris’s mate and rocked her a little. “You be happy, my darling. Enjoy your trip.”

  “We will,” Ava’s choked out. “Thank you, Meechee, for everything.”

  “Hey, this isn’t goodbye, ladies. We’re only going away for a while.”

  Mischa shot him a look of outrage. “This moment has been ten years in the making, Chris. You keep your nose out of it.”

  “Even though it’s my mate bond you’re celebrating?” he demanded, thoroughly bemused by that backwards logic.

  She sniffed. “You’re lucky to have my girl.”

  Ava squeezed her arm. “It’s okay, Meechee. Don’t worry about it. I’m not anymore. This is finally happening. How did you find out?”

  “Overheard your Pa telling Kiko, of course.”

  “Overheard meaning eavesdropped?” Chris questioned, folding his arms across his chest. A smile blazoned forth at her complete lack of shame when she turned to him and said,

  “Not my fault if they talk too loud, is it?”

  Ava snorted. “Plead the fifth, Mischa, it will get you farther.”

  The older woman pushed at that. “All these years in your country and I still do not understand these amendments of yours.” She wafted a hand. “You two go before your mother finds out.”

  Ava’s eyes flared wide, and she nodded swiftly. “You’re right.” To Chris, she murmured, “Let’s go.”

  As she strode toward the
door, she pressed a kiss to Mischa’s cheek.

  “Be safe, babushka.”

  “Of course,” she told the older woman.

  Mischa narrowed her eyes at Chris as he followed his mate. “Take better care of her than you have been doing.”

  The barb hit home, and its sting was decidedly painful. He couldn’t stop himself from wincing at the gash it left behind.

  Nodding jerkily at her, he strode past without saying another word.

  When he hit the hall, Ava waited for him, and together they walked down the corridor.

  “She means well,” Ava’s murmured softly.

  “I know. I’m glad you have her for a friend.” The smile he shot her way was taut but genuine. “Why are we going this way? It’s quicker to go downstairs.”

  “This way leads to the fire door on the third floor,” she told him as they went upstairs rather than down.

  “So?”

  “Those stairs lead right to the garage.”

  “You really don’t want to see your mom, do you?”

  She shot him a look. “Would you?”

  He grimaced. “My turn to plead the fifth, I think.”

  A laugh burst from her. “Wise decision,” she told him as she started jogging down the stairs once they hit the fire door.

  He grimaced, as he usually did, once he left the air conditioned comfort of the MC and hit the outside air. It was scorching hot, as was usually the case come summer, but even though fall was approaching, the temperatures had yet to drop.

  In his leather cut jeans and tee, he wasn’t wearing the most appropriate gear for the road, but anything more, and he’d melt. Bears ran at a higher temperature anyway and were naturally more suited to the climate in the northern states of the US.

  Why The Nomads had settled here, he didn’t fucking know and didn’t care; he just wished someone would turn the sun down a bit.

  “Didn’t they get the memo it’s September now?”

  Ava shot him a look. “What you grumbling about?”

  “It’s boiling hot.”

  She snorted. “Don’t be a baby. You’ve been here for three decades now. You should be acclimated to the weather.”

  “Nobody gets used to hell,” was all he said, wiping a hand across his brow as he steered her toward his hog which was right on the front row, pride of place thanks to his seat on the Council.

  Cherry red body with trims so shiny Ava could paint her face in their reflection, he sighed at the sight of her.

  His Bear began to stir too. It was an odd sensation. Like a low throb in his blood, a hum that made no sense but one that left him feeling super charged and energized.

  Ava sighed when they reached his hog, and he didn’t cringe when, with a loving touch, she let her hand stroke along the curves of the body. “I’ve dreamed of riding on the back of this with you.” She peered up at him. “Stupid, huh?”

  He smiled at her. “You think I haven’t dreamt of riding with you at my back?” He cocked a brow. “You’d be mistaken if you think the answer is no.”

  Her cheeks pinkened, and his smile widened at the sight.

  These next few days were going to be interesting. They were mates, had known it and each other for so long, and yet at the same time, they were strangers thanks to the distance he’d shoved between them.

  This impromptu trip was his attempt at bridging that distance he’d pushed between them, but also, a chance for them to be alone when it was impossible to be alone in the crowded MC clubhouse.

  To learn one another in a more intimate sense.

  For her to get used to his hand on her back, and for him to not rear away when she touched him.

  It was going to be hard work, truth be told.

  But it would be damn worth it.

  Chapter 4

  Ava hooted for the glory of the moment as they hit the highway and Chris finally let the hog do what it was built for—fly.

  Her hair, although clamped to her head under her helmet, flared behind her, and the wind hit her skin with a chill that was delightful in the heat of the day.

  Her arms were around Chris for safety’s sake. But the way she was squeezing him had nothing to do with practicality and everything to do with need.

  She hadn’t been lying when she said she’d dreamed of this moment, and it was a thousand times better than she’d ever imagined.

  For a second, she pressed her forehead to the center of his back and squeezed his waist harder. One of his hands dropped down from the handlebars to grab hold of her fingers. Hers clung to his for a second until he moved it back.

  A smile crossed her lips as she tilted her head back again, this time to let the sun and the wind trickle over her face.

  Goddess, she felt alive.

  For the first time in months, it felt like something other than apathy and lethargy were flushing through her veins.

  Laughter burst from her, until an unmistakable sound hit her. She twisted her head over her shoulder and turned to look at the road behind her.

  She squeezed him harder at the sight of two dozen bikes.

  Her dad would have sent them after her had they just run off. But no way were The Nomads chasing after them, not when her father had been the one to send them off!

  “Bikes! Two dozen,” she yelled, sitting straighter so she could scream the words into his ear.

  He nodded. “I see them.”

  She barely heard his response as the bikes suddenly raced toward them, drowning them in the sound of twenty plus engines.

  She twisted around to look at the faces of the riders. But when she didn’t recognize anyone, and she knew everyone in the MC, fear replaced the delicious glory she’d been feeling moments before.

  The bikes surrounded them. Some racing ahead to cut off the front of the road, others staying behind, and the majority splitting into two groups to sandwich them on either side.

  It came as no surprise when they started shepherding them off the road, forcing them to take the wrong turn off when Chris had told her they were heading to Houston.

  In her arms, Chris was tense as hell. She was pressed so close to him that she could feel his Bear throbbing with rage, and knew he was having a hard time containing the beast.

  She nuzzled into him, trying to make sure he knew she wasn’t frightened, that he didn’t have to get any angrier for fear she was trembling behind him.

  Crazy thing was, she wasn’t scared.

  Since her and most of the cubs’ birth, the MC had gone corporate. There was no fancier way of phrasing it. Gone were the days of gang wars and brothers heading off to jail as frequently as they went to the grocery store.

  Some brothers hadn’t liked it, so they’d gone elsewhere. Others had liked the sound of a Clan where their families could have food on the table with no fear of their father being taken away; either by death or the cops.

  MCs were natural gatherings for Clans. The freedom of the road helped in these modern times where shifting wasn’t so easy, and the beast had to remain caged more than it was free.

  Trouble came with that route, however, and The Nomads had been wholly involved in some of the worst crimes imaginable. Human trafficking, murder... She’d read her mother’s diaries at the time of her mate bond. Knew what the MC’s previous Prez had gotten The Nomads into, and the depths he’d been willing to sink to for a dollar.

  That had all changed shortly after her dad had mated her mom. They’d been in the throes of a gang war that had petered out once a local Cartel leader had been sent down for a long time.

  With the shift in business approach, the danger had soon passed. She’d never had to feel fear for her life or her family because that was no longer how they made their bread and butter.

  So, why, when safety was all she’d known, she was cool as a cucumber during these tense and unknown moments, Ava wasn’t entirely sure.

  It made little sense, but at the same time, her response was completely automatic. It wasn’t like she could make herself freak out
as they took the turn they’d been shepherded down.

  She turned again to look at some of the riders’ faces. A few leered at her, others looked disinterested.

  She was used to the former, so it didn’t bother her. Maybe they thought once she and Chris were wherever they wanted, they could ‘do’ something to her.

  They were wrong.

  She was a Bear Shifter.

  Granted, it was harder for a female Bear Shifter to shift than a male. Some weird twist of fate made it so that they could only change forms when danger approached.

  A bizarre flight or fight response that worked out perfectly for her in these moments.

  When the cavalcade of bikes turned left and surrounded by them, Chris had no alternative but to go along for the ride.

  When they pulled to a halt, he immediately shucked off his helmet and demanded, “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Get off the bike,” one rider said, veering toward them, obviously, the head of the pack.

  “Why should I? You’re not my Prez,” Chris retorted, and she stiffened because that meant he was aware who the riders were.

  She’d seen on the back of their cuts they were called Spiders Venom MC, but she’d never heard of them. Never wanted to either.

  Chris had joined the MC before the brothers had gone legit, so she guessed he knew them from those days. She hoped that was the case anyway.

  “Get off the bike, Chris,” came the low order from the youngish biker. He looked to be around thirty, was a dirty blond, and one of those SOBs who was too handsome for their own good.

  It was one thing to be attractive, but to know it was totally unattractive in her opinion.

  That being said, the dirty blond with the face of a GQ model—save for the tattoo on his throat of a spider—had them at a disadvantage. Entirely outnumbered, she saw no alternative but to do as he said, and when she kicked her leg over and did as bid, Chris didn’t grab her to stop her. He saw they were out of options too.

  Not that that was a difficult decision to come to. After all, they were in a small circle made by riders and bikes from a different MC. And though the Prez knew Chris by name, a fact she wasn’t happy about, they were still, essentially, in enemy territory even as close to the Clan house as they were. Territory meant jack in this instance.