Page 17 of All's Fair in Love & Wrath

“Hot. Tattoos on every inch of skin except his face. Dark, styled hair. Girl, if I wasn’t married, I’d climb him like a tree. I’ll get a broom, don’t move.”

My lungs start working when only one person comes to mind that fits that description.

Axel.

My body starts to unwind slightly, that coil not so tight around my veins. I can feel Tommy move closer, but he doesn’t crowd me. “You okay, kid?”

“I don’t know. Depends on what he wants.”

“Want me to call Saint?”

“No. No, I’ve got this. It’s fine. I’m sorry about the mess, and the food.”

“Didn’t want that break anyway, darlin’. Ain’t no big deal. Get out there and see what he needs. Holler if you need me. Haven’t fired that shotgun over there in some time, but if I remember correctly, a shotgun doesn’t need perfect aim.”

I smile half-heartedly. “Thanks, Tommy. I’ll be right back.”

With my heart in my throat, I walk into the dining room, my eyes scanning the long length and stopping on the man sitting by himself in a booth at the far end. He’s wearing ablack T-shirt, no MC cut, but still looking every inch the bad-boy biker I’m sure he is.

I walk up to the table, my footsteps as soft as ever until I’m standing right beside him.

“What are you doing here?”

“You never texted,” he says without looking up, his tattooed thumb tracing the droplets of condensation dripping down his glass. Elise was right, not that I didn’t notice the first time; every inch of him is heavily tattooed in dark ink, silver rings dawning his fingers, a small hoop in his nose, and a gold earring in his left lobe, more tattoos swirling on the shaved sides of his head.

I shift on my feet. “I didn’t think you were serious. Men say they want to help, but it’s just talk to get something they want or to get in our pants. It’s all bullshit.”

“You think that’s what that was, Sienna?” He looks up at me with his perfect blue eyes, my name on his lips sounding more like a plea than a statement.

“I-I don’t know.”

“I mean what I say, and I certainly don’t say useless shit to get into women’s pants. Words have power.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

His eyes hold mine hostage, but I don’t feel threatened at all; in fact, some of the tension unravels. “I needed to see you. I needed to know that you were okay.” That momentarily stuns me, and I shift on my feet. “Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?”

“I’m not your problem. You wasted your time coming here.”

I bring my hands nervously to my front, crossing my arms. His eyes track the movement, stopping on my wrapped left hand, eyes narrowing. He doesn’t move quickly, more like he’s waiting and giving me time to pull away as he inches his handtoward mine. I can’t explain why I let him touch me, can’t fathom why I would be frozen in place, or why a small voice inside my head is whispering that it’s okay, that he won’t hurt me, that he’ll make it all better. I have no reason or proof to feel that way, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do.

Right before Axel makes contact, he looks up at me through his long eyelashes, silently asking for permission. This is my chance.You know better than to let your guard down, Sienna. Walk away. Tell him to leave right now and walk away.

But I don’t do any of those things. Axel’s fingertips gently brush across my knuckles before clasping my hand, tugging it delicately toward him. My knees nearly buckle from the contact as my heart lodges in my throat. He turns it over, the bright crimson bleeding through the rag already.

“What happened?”

“I dropped your lunch and cut myself on the pieces. I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” Axel growls, deep and animalistic. It catches me off guard, and I pull my hand away. He lets me go without resistance, but his eyes pierce into mine.

“Don’t ever speak about your pain like you’re used to it, like it’s not a big deal. You’re hurt, and that’s averybig fucking deal.” Even if I had the ability to take a breath right now, there’s no more air in the room. His words cause my heart to physically ache. It’s not from heartbreak or fear, it’s because that little ember of hope that was lit the last time he was here . . . it’s sparking. And that’s more dangerous than heartbreak or fear.

“Like I said, I’m not your problem.” This is definitely where I should walk away, but it’s like my feet are glued to the floor, unwilling to end this.

“You couldn’t be a problem if you tried, sweetheart. If you don’t want to talk privately, that’s okay. Seeing that you’re in one piece, despite the cut on your hand, is enough for me.”

“You came all this way just for that? Thought you were hunting someone down. Sure you didn’t come here to try to get access to my brother?” I don’t know why I’m pushing him, or why any of it matters. I don’t fish for anything, let alone a compliment or flattery, but part of me is digging to get him to admit the real reason, because there’s no way I can believe the truth he’s trying to tell.

“My club needs to right the scales. Garrettwilldie. But I have no intention of using you to find him. Like I said, I don’t say things just to hear myself talk. I came all this way, alone, to see you with my own eyes. I needed to make sure you were okay.”