Risky and Wild(60)

“For me? Seems like you were worried about that uptight little twat getting shot more than you cared about me getting dragged into some RICO charges.” I sound ticked off when I say it. And then I realize that I'm bloody furious. “Dober gave me a right ear-bashing after you walked out. The club's already on edge when it comes to you, Lyric. I'm fucking fighting for this.” I gesture between her and me, the space yawning and gaping like there's nothing in the world that could cross this cultural divide.

“Oh?” she says, raising her eyebrows at me and putting a hand to her chest. “Maybe I should get on my knees and thank you for that, Mr. President. I'm a lucky, lucky girl to have the privilege of perching on your bike like a hood ornament.” I take a step closer to her, opening my mouth to argue, but she's not done yet. “I have ambitions and wants and desires, Royal. I'm not … I can't just be an old lady. That's not who I am.”

“That's not what I want from you,” I yell back, fully aware that we're both raising our voices in a very public place. If Lyric wanted to keep our relationship secret, this is certainly not the way to go about it. “I thought I explained that pretty bloody clearly?”

“What are you going to do then? Patch me in to the club? Teach me to ride? Give me a seat at the table, so I can talk shop with the boys?”

I grit my teeth and turn away from her, running my fingers through my hair, the leather of my cut rustling with the movement. Above our heads, the lights flicker on for the evening, drawing clouds of white winged moths.

“That's what I thought,” Lyric whispers quietly. “Look, Royal, I didn't want for any of this to happen. What I said on Sunday … even though it was stupid and childish and,” here she scoffs, “completely inappropriate … I meant it. But loving you isn't going to be enough—”

I cut her off by whirling around and taking a few steps forward. This time, she doesn't move back, lifting her chin to look at me.

“What did you just say?” I ask her, my body vibrating with the words. Loving you. If I haven't completely lost the plot, then that's what she said. Love. I hate how much I want it to be true. The boys would flay me alive. The fuck is wrong with me?

“What? Nothing.” Lyric's flushing now, the color peeking out from under the collar of her white button-up. “I didn't say anything.” I lift my right hand up and run my fingers along the edge of her jaw, tracing the blush with my fingertips. Her entire body shudders and she turns away, pushing my hand back with a sigh. “Royal …”

“You said it, Pint-Size. I heard it.”

“It's not enough,” she growls, fierce as a wild wolf. My body responds to the sound with a little growl of my own. This is my mate right here, the alpha female to my alpha male. I stand up straight and run my tongue along my lower lip.

“What's not? Say it again.”

“No!” Lyric shouts, turning to face me, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “I won't. Because I'm done here. I'm not saying anything else, Royal. Good night.”

When Lyric tries to walk away, I catch up to her, wrapping my fingers around her upper arm and drawing her back towards me. My breath feathers against her ear.

“You don't much strike me as the type to give up because of some stupid argy-bargy.”

“Argy-what?” Lyric asks, her brows going up as I spin her to face me. “Are you trying to … use your British on me?”

“Is it working?” I sweep some hair behind her ear and lean in, putting my lips against Lyric's forehead. Her mouth twitches like she wants to smile, but manages to resist the urge.

“Maybe.” A pause. “Why do you do that? Turn your accent on and off like that?”

I raise my brows at her as I lean back, looking down so I can meet her eyes.

“I never really thought about it.” I think for a moment, watching the play of light across Lyric's face, the way it highlights her full mouth, makes her green eyes gleam. “Since the day I moved here, since I was sixteen, I've been trying to fit in, to talk like everyone else.” I wet my lips carefully and Lyric follows the movement. “I suppose … when I'm around you, I relax.” I smile at her. “With few exceptions, I'm not trying to do it. It just comes out when you're around.” My smile turns into a grin. “So maybe you'd forgive me if I invited you over to my place for some tea … and a shag?”

Lyric really does smile for a second there, but it doesn't last. After a moment she pulls away from me and turns, her slippers sliding against the pavement beneath our feet. On my right, the automatic doors for the hospital open and an older couple spills out, giving me a wide berth.