Page 37 of North’s Claim

I shrug. “You’re more of a jeans-and-tee kind of guy.”

He grunts. “You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

I grin and tilt my head. “Jeans or dress?”

He groans. “Woman, you’re making this hard. Don’t need the fucking hood to give me shit about my hard-on.”

“Dress then.” I kiss his cheek and head off to change, heart so full it might explode.

Whatever this is, it’s starting to feel like home.

And damn if that doesn’t scare me, but it also makes me want to hold on tighter.

Later, we ride to the BB. Everyone’s still half-asleep, groggy, and silent. I stifle a giggle as I carry the pancake mix into the kitchen. The ladies beam at me the moment they see my dress.

“Damn, Nyxa! You look like sunshine,” Jess says.

“North’s gonna need CPR,” Andrea teases.

I roll my eyes and laugh, letting myself sink into the warmth of their company. We laugh, trade jokes, and for a while, I forget the past. It’s easy with them. Natural.

When Eva pulls out a sponge cake and starts cutting it into perfect slices, I lean in curiously watching all the ingredients displayed on the table.

“Whose birthday is it?”

Everything freezes. They all stare like I’ve grown a second head.

Shit. My heart does a weird flip. “Tell me you’re joking,” I murmur, eyes still scanning the crowded room.

Eva shakes her head slowly, almost smiling like she’s watching a movie unfold. “Prez hates birthdays. Never celebrates. We usually bake a cake, cut it, drink like hell, and pretend it’s just another excuse to party. But this is the first time he brought someone with him.”

My throat tightens. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Because he’s North.” Kayla shrugs. “You’ll learn fast, he doesn’t want attention unless it’s for his club.”

“But he deserves it,” I whisper.

“Then tell him,” Eva nudges. “He won’t admit it, but... it means something, Nyxa. You mean something.”

I whirl around, searching the crowded room until my eyes lock on his.

Even mid-conversation, surrounded by his brothers, he’s already looking at me and just like that, my heart catches fire.

Chapter 14

North

Laughter’s already bouncing off the walls of the Blacktope Blood when I settle into my usual spot near the back. Colt’s halfway through a story about a coyote chasing him down a dirt road when he was stoned off his ass on gummies.

“Swear to God,” he grins, slapping the table, “I thought it was the Grim Reaper.”

Soul snorts into his beer. “You’re scared of a mutt with mange, but not of a cartel shootout. That’s some impressive logic.”

Colt points his bottle at him. “Cartel dudes don’t froth at the mouth.”

“Neither do coyotes,” Tornado chimes in. “Unless they’re high on your stash.”

Everyone cracks up.