Page 11 of Nomad: Violent Devotion

“Answer me,” he demands.

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes every damn...” His words cut off, jaw clenched so tight I can almost hear his teeth grind. The frustration in his eyes is palpable, nearly vibrating the thin air between us.

I fold my arms. “There it is.”

“What?” He frowns.

“The unnecessary fucking lecture.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Silence hangs between us. He stares, and I stare right back.

Finally, I tilt my head. “Why do you care?”

“I...”

“You don’t even know me.”

His mouth opens before closing again.

I smile, slow and sharp. “You said it yourself.” His eyes narrow. “No bed.” I tick off one finger. “No sweet words.” Another. “This is just sex.”

Something flashes across his face. Annoyance, maybe frustration, raw and radiating from him in waves, matching the stubborn anger crackling beneath my own skin.

I press on anyway. “So why are we here?” I ask. “Why drag me halfway across town? Why not leave me where you found me? Or did you just want to see if I’d beg for more?”

Because I can’t answer that question either. I don’t know why he came for me. I don’t know why I climbed onto his bike without fighting. I definitely don’t know why, for twenty uninterrupted minutes, I’d felt safer with an enemy than I’d ever felt inside my father’s clubhouse.

Walker exhales slowly. “It seems you might have a habit of walking into places that’ll get you killed.”

“And?”

“And I don’t like it.”

I bark out a laugh. “You don’t like it?”

“No.”

“That’s adorable.”

His eyes darken. “You think this is funny?”

“I think you’re confused.”

“I’m not confused.” His voice is pure steel, but there’s a flicker of something raw in his eyes. Hunger or maybe regret, like he wants to devour me and damn himself for it.

“You are.” I step closer. “You wanted one dirty night.” Another step. “You got one.” Another. “Now suddenly you’re acting like you’ve got some claim over what I do.”

His shoulders stiffen. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.” I stop close enough to see the tiny scar beside his mouth. “So, tell me, Walker...” I lower my voice. “What exactly am I to you?”

His gaze locks onto mine. For one long heartbeat, neither of us moves. “You’re fucking trouble.”