Chapter 7 The Biker's mercy

The inside of the house was nothing like I expected. I thought it would be a messy warehouse full of beer cans and grease, but it was actually beautiful in a rugged way. The ceilings were high with thick wooden beams, and a large stone fireplace took up most of one wall. It felt solid. It felt like a place that could withstand the strongest wind.

Killian didn't say a word as he led me into a massive kitchen. He pulled out a heavy wooden chair at the island and pointed at it.

"Sit," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.

I sat. I watched him move around the kitchen. He said he prepared food, not I will watch him do it, I just laughed. He was so big that he made the room look small. He pulled a pan onto the stove and started cracking eggs. The smell of bacon soon filled the air, making my stomach growl loudly. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until that moment.

"Do you have a maid or something?" I asked, trying to break the heavy silence. "This place is way too clean for a bunch of bikers."

Killian didn't look back as he flipped the eggs. "No. I don't like strangers in my house. I'm not a fan of people in general."

"So you do all this yourself?"

"I like things done a certain way, Elena," he said. He turned around and placed a plate in front of me. It was piled high with food. "Eat. All of it."

"I can't eat all this," I argued, looking at the mountain of eggs and toast. "And I really need to get back to campus. I have a shift at the library and another class this afternoon."

"The library can wait. Your classes can wait. You're pale and you're shaking. Eat."

I picked up a fork and started eating. He was right; the food was amazing. He didn't sit down with me. Instead, he pulled a crate over to the center of the kitchen and sat on it.

I watched the way his muscles moved under his tattoos. He looked so dangerous, yet there he was, cooking me breakfast and quietly working. After a few minutes, the silence started to feel heavy again. I felt restless. I had finished about half the plate when I decided I'd had enough.

I pushed the plate away and stood up. "Okay, I'm done. Thank you for the breakfast, Killian, but I really have to go now."

In a second, he was on his feet. He was across the kitchen before I could even take a step toward the door. He didn't look angry, but his eyes were dark and focused. He reached out, grabbed me by the waist, and lifted me off the floor as if I weighed nothing.

"Hey! Put me down!" I gasped.

He didn't say a word. He walked back to my chair and placed me firmly back in the seat. He leaned over me, his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping me.

"I said eat all of it," he growled. his face was inches from mine. "I don't like repeating myself, Elena. You're not leaving this chair until that plate is empty."

"You can't just keep me here," I said, my voice trembling. "This is kidnapping."

"Call it whatever you want," he said. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle compared to his voice. "But you're staying put. Now finish."

I looked at the plate, then back at him. I realized there was no point in fighting. He was too strong and too stubborn. I picked up the fork and finished every last bite while he went back to his crate and continued cleaning his gear.

When I was finally done, he stood up and walked over. He didn't take the plate. Instead, he grabbed a small first-aid kit from a cabinet.

"Come here," he said, sitting back down on the crate. He patted the floor between his legs. "Kneel."

My heart skipped a beat. "What? Why?"

"I need to look at your wound. How did you get it?."

I touched my neck, and realized it wasn't hidden well, I can't tell him that a strange man who is my professor gave me a bruising hickey, that is stupid.

"Well things happen, but I can do it myself," I protested.

"Elena," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous low warning. "Get over here."

I slowly walked over and knelt between his knees. My heart was racing. I felt so small compared to him. He reached out and gently pulled the collar of my sweater down, exposing the mark more.

I felt him go still as he looked at it.

"This is too deep," Killian muttered.

He opened a bottle of cool antiseptic. He dipped a cotton ball into it and started dabbing the mark. I flinched at the initial sting, but then a strange cooling sensation spread through my neck. The throbbing stopped.

His hands were huge and covered in scars, and his tattoos were intimidating, but he was being so careful with me. He was treating me like I was something fragile.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I whispered. "One minute you're carrying me over your shoulder like a caveman, and the next you're doing this."

Killian stopped dabbing my neck and looked me in the eyes. His gaze was intense. "I protect what's mine, Elena. Even if I have to protect you from yourself."

"I'm not yours," I argued, though my voice lacked conviction.

He didn't answer. He just finished cleaning the mark and put the kit away. He stood up and held out a hand to help me up.

"I need to go home," I said, looking at the large clock on the wall. "Please. I have to get my books for my evening study session."

Killian grumbled something under his breath, looking out the window at the sky. He looked like he wanted to say no, but then he sighed. "Fine. There will be a next time anyway. I'll take you back."

He led me back out to the bike. The ride back to my apartment was quieter than the ride to his place. I held onto him, my head resting against his back. As we pulled up to my building, I realized something that terrified me.

I felt safer in that clubhouse with a man I barely knew than I did in my own apartment. I felt like the world outside was full of people like Marcus who would use me, but inside there, there was a strange kind of honesty.

Killian stopped the bike and waited for me to get off. I handed him the helmet.

"Thank you for the breakfast," I said.

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "Don't think this means you're free, little bird. I'll see you soon."

He revved the engine and sped off before I could even reply. I stood on the sidewalk, watching him disappear, wondering how my life had turned into this