Loud music drifts across the beach, competing with the crackle of burning wood and the low roar of the lake and wind. Brothers are scattered in clusters—some standing, some sprawled in camp chairs, most with bottles or cans in their fists. The cut sluts weave among them, all bare legs and loud laughter.
I'm warm. Fed. Safe.
The foreignness of those three things existing at the same time keeps catching me off guard.
"You good?" Rowan bumps my shoulder with hers.
"Yeah." And I mean it.
Across the fire, Zeus stands with two bikers I’ve learned are named Fury and Mayhem. He's got a beer hanging loosely from his fingers, and he's nodding at whatever Fury is saying, but his body language reads distracted. The firelight carves deep shadows beneath his cheekbones and turns his browneyes amber. His t-shirt stretches tight across his chest when he shifts his weight, and I trace the lines of the tattoos disappearing under the fabric.
I catch myself staring and look away. Take a sip of my seltzer.
This afternoon replays on a loop—his hand enveloping mine on the walk back, his arm slung heavy over my shoulders, the stories he told about my father that made a dead stranger feel real. The way his voice cracked, just once, when he said complicated. The softening around his eyes when he looked at me.
I shouldn't feel this way about him. He's a decade older than me, minimum. He was my father's friend. He's moody and volatile and carries a darkness I can sense even when he's being gentle. And I'm a mess—broke, homeless, running from a man who wants to hurt me. This is not the time to develop a crush.
But my body doesn't care about logic. Every time Zeus is near, my skin hums. When he draped an arm over my shoulders to guide me toward the food table, electricity shot straight down my spine.
"Earth to London." Kayla waves a hand in front of my face. "You're doing the staring thing again."
Heat floods my neck. "I'm not?—"
"Girl." Sarah leans forward, grinning. "You are absolutely staring at Zeus."
"I'm looking in his general direction."
"His very specific direction," Rowan corrects, and all three of them dissolve into giggles.
I groan and press the cold can against my burning cheek. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to anyone with eyes," Kayla says cheerfully.
The music shifts. Something slower replaces the heavy bass—a song with a steady rhythm and a low, gravelly voice singingabout wanting someone you shouldn't have. The irony isn't lost on me.
A few couples drift together near the fire. Fury pulls Kayla up from the log, spinning her into his arms until she squeaks and laughs. Rowan is already on her feet, tugging at Chaos who rolls his eyes but follows, his hand on her hip and his eyes full of admiration and love. Demon draws Sarah close, his massive frame curving around her protectively.
I watch them—these dangerous men made tender by the women they love—and something aches beneath my ribs. I want that. I've never wanted anything so much.
My eyes find Zeus again. He's alone now.
The seltzer gives me courage. I set it on the sand and stand before I can talk myself out of it.
My legs carry me across the sand. Each step feels massive, like I'm crossing a canyon instead of twenty feet. Zeus's gaze snaps to me the second I move, tracking my approach with those penetrating brown eyes.
"Dance with me," I say when I reach him.
His brow furrows. "What?"
"Dance. With me." I hold out my hand, palm up.
"I don't dance."
"You have legs and arms. You can sway. That counts."
"I'll look like a jackass."
"You look like a jackass standing alone while everyone else dances, too." I wiggle my fingers. "Come on, Zeus. One song."