Page 47 of Priest

“Oh my God,” Evan says. “You assaulted me in public.”

Priest straightens, still grinning, his eyes bright for the first time since I saw him in that ambulance bay. “If that man impregnated anyone, it’d be Ink before it was you.”

Evan freezes, then points at him. “Who is Ink, and why did you say that like it was supposed to discourage me?”

“Evan.”

“What? I’m grieving my credibility as a heterosexual father.”

“You screwed the pooch the first time you opened your mouth.”

He sighs, deeply wounded. “I really did. I panicked. I don’t respect straight improv.”

Priest’s grin lingers, but his gaze drops to my stomach for half a second, and the humor shifts into something heavier. Possessive. Certain. I feel it like heat across my skin and hate myself for the way my pulse answers.

I turn back to him, my patience officially gone. “I am not doing this with you. I am exhausted. I had a stressful day trying to save Deacon’s life. I need to go home and rest, and you need to respect that, for me and for the health of my baby.”

Something in his expression banks but does not go out. He steps closer anyway, hands coming up to my arms, warm and grounding and infuriating. His thumbs rub slow, deliberate lines against my sleeves like he knows exactly what my body remembers.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll let you walk this time.”

I bristle. “How generous.”

“But you aren’t going far,” he adds, unbothered. “Because now I know how to find you. Go home. Get some rest.”

He bends down before I can stop him, his voice dropping toward my belly. “Daddy’ll talk to you and Mommy later, little guy.”

I shove him hard enough to make him straighten. “Knock it off.”

His mouth tilts.

I point at my stomach, then at myself, trying very hard to ignore how badly I want to slap that look off his face and kiss it back on again. “This. Me. We don’t fit in with your rules. We don’t exist with you.”

His smirk fades into something darker, steadier. “Babe, there are no more rules for us.”

My pulse spikes.

“I claimed you tonight,” he continues, casual as a match dropped near gasoline. “In front of the whole club.”

The words hit so fast I actually forget how to breathe.

“You what?”

Priest climbs into the truck like he hasn’t just detonated a bomb at my feet. He looks at me once more, eyes dark and certain, then drives off like a man who knows exactly how much trouble he just left behind.

For several seconds, I stand there staring after him, heart pounding in ways I refuse to unpack.

Evan exhales loudly beside me. “Well.”

I turn my head slowly.

He lifts both hands. “Bitch, were you trying to get me killed?”

“Don’t be so aggressive,” I say, still watching the empty stretch of lot where Priest disappeared. “You loved the drama and you know it.”

“Well, of course I did.” Evan straightens, offended by the suggestion otherwise. “But I would’ve preferred a little rehearsal before you shoved me in front of a murderous biker Viking and told him I had fathered your unborn child with my imaginary heterosexual prowess.”

Despite myself, I snort.