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“I’ll do whatever is needed,” I assure him. “I’m loyal to the patch.”
“I trust you, Rage, and that’s the only reason I’m letting this happen.”
I feel choked by his assurance in me. No one has ever put this kind of faith in me. “I know. I won’t let you down.”
He dismisses me with a nod, and I push up from my seat, heading for the door. I close it behind me, locking my Prez and VP inside as I gather my shit out the box, stuffing it back in my pockets before I make my way back to Skye’s room.
I pause at the door, leaning my forehead against it, and just take a second to collect myself. I’m in deep here, more so than I intended to be, and I don’t know which way to turn. I swing between wanting her and wanting to push her away, but I can’t deny how protective I feel over her either.
The confusing mess in my brain is hard to wade through. I have so many conflicting thoughts as I unlock the door and push it open.
I expect to see Skye lying on the bed or maybe on the floor—a position she seems to favour—but my stomach drops when I realise she’s not in the room at all.
I’m about to go into full panic mode when I hear retching from the bathroom. I don’t think. I cross the room, making my way into the small space. Skye’s kneeling on the cold tiled floor, her head over the toilet as she heaves. The smell of puke fills the air, but I don’t care about that.
I move to her back, skimming her hair off her shoulders and holding it out of her way as she continues to throw up. My hand rubs over her spine until she’s unable to bring anything else up.
Sinking back on her heels, her chest heaves as she tries to reclaim control of her body.
“I’d say I’m sorry you keep seeing me like this, but since you did this to me, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
Her lips quirk at the corners, taking some of the sting out of her words.
I flush the toilet and crouch down in front of her. “You think you’re finished?”
“For now.”
“You think some fresh air would help?”
Her eyes, which had started to drift closed, snap open. I see wariness and perhaps a little fear. “I’m not allowed to leave the room. Are you kicking me out?”
“No.” I straighten and hold a hand to her. “Up you come.”
She takes it, her soft skin sliding across my rougher palm as I pull her to her feet.
“I need to brush my teeth first.”
I let go of her and watch from the doorway as she grabs her toothbrush and the toothpaste. Watching her in the mirror doing something as mundane as brushing her teeth has my cock stirring in my jeans. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I was drawn to her in that bar for a reason, and I want desperately to fuck her again, but it will just complicate an already complicated situation. I need to focus on the important things here—keeping Skye safe, keeping my club safe, and taking care of my child. I don’t know where that leaves Skye and me, but for now, I can’t worry about that.
She lifts her lashes and her eyes lock to mine in the mirror. The heated look in her gaze is unmistakable, though she tries to hide it quickly.
“Rage?”
I clear my throat, but I don’t break contact with her. I can’t. I’m magnetised to her.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your real name?”
That’s not what I was expecting her to ask, and perhaps she catches me at a weak moment because I spill it before I realise what I’ve done.
“It’s Beau.”
“Beau…” She says it as if she’s testing it on her tongue.
“Why do you need to know that?”
“Because you aren’t Rage. You never have been. You’re a kid who suffered through something horrible, and I don’t want to call you a name associated with the man your father created.”
