But now I was home. I’d found peace. I’d found joy.
Arthur was finally mine—like I always known he would be. We were happy—like I’d always known we could be. And we were safe—like I’d always hoped.
Our scars were still healing, our futures still evolving. But we were together and that was all that mattered. —Cleo, today
Life had a way of tearing someone apart before granting their utmost dreams.
The tribulations we had endured in order to be triumphant made everything so much brighter, intense, and precious.
So damn precious.
Sitting up in bed, I looked over at the man who held my heart.
My heart fisted and leapt like it did every morning. It was so easy to forget his radiant force when sleep carried us off into different worlds. But every time I woke in his arms, I was reminded of his dangerous power. His immense force of will.
No wonder he’d had such success in front of the cameras.
No wonder people flocked to him and listened—truly listened—to his ideals and suggestions.
With reverent fingers, I brushed aside the inky strands of hair from his cheek. Twelve months had wiped away lines that’d graced his eyes and washed away the stress from his face.
Being cast from the lifestyle we’d always known turned out to be the best thing that’d ever happened to us.
Not only did we visit Pure Corruption regularly, but I’d also become best friends with Melanie and Molly. Only a few days would go by without me seeing them, and our phones would ring constantly—asking Arthur’s opinion, shooting the breeze, and generally being the best family I’d ever had.
So much had changed in a year, but it’d all been positive.
Grasshopper was president; Wallstreet was the oracle, but Arthur … he was the prodigal child reforming the world and bringing about revolution. Somehow he’d become more to them than just a president—he became a true idealist, a savior to everyone who needed speaking for but had no one to trust.
I’m so happy that he’s happy.
He’d done the impossible and straddled the line of lawlessness and law-abiding. And because of his background, everyone flocked to him. Criminals believed in him and listened. Middle class were intrigued by him and paid attention. And the men in power who’d treated the globe like their own personal playground were afraid of him.
A perfect combination of power and threats.
Finally, after a war, secrets, double-crossing, and drawn-out vendettas, we were finally enjoying our hard-won peace.
Shifting carefully, I propped my head on my hand and studied the decadent man who graced my heart and soul. He slept on his stomach, his arms wrapped around a pillow. The huge tattoo on his back was the only reminder of the world we’d given up in order to save it as a whole.
At the beginning, he’d been nervous, fumbling with how to speak, trying to pretend he was something he wasn’t in front of newscasters and journalists. But one night, I’d reminded him that this was his idea. This was his choice and people would react better if they saw the truth.
On paper he’d distanced himself from the outlaw world, but in his heart he was still a biker. And for the public to follow him—he had to be true to his heritage.
The next day, he’d undone his shirt and presented his tattoo to the world. He’d opened up—spoken about his incarceration, his love for his Club, and even skirted the tricky topics of what’d happened to Dagger Rose and Night Crusaders.
Overnight he’d gone from wannabe politician to someone taken seriously. And with that public investment, he finally evolved into the man I always knew he was.
He became Arthur “Kill” Killian—mastermind, genius—spokesperson for the mistreated and disadvantaged.
He sighed heavily, eyelids flickering with dreams. His chiseled biceps and rugged jawline looked so distinguished. The more immersed he became in uncovering international crime and fraud, the more delicious it was.
I was so proud of him.
So proud of all that he’d become.
I was also proud of my own endeavors. Dagger Rose was no longer a rubble wasteland. It’d been transformed into a veterinary homestead for mistreated and injured animals. Corrine had come across from England to help me and when I was away with Arthur, she ran it single-handedly with our staff of three vets.
When I’d approached Arthur with my idea, he’d chuckled and said it couldn’t be more perfect. Not only were we saving the world for humans, but I was saving it for animals, too.
Tugging the sheet down, I bit my lip as a few crescent-shaped marks appeared adorning his ass. My nails from last night. My tummy clenched, remembering the way he’d filled me. Taking me on my back, my front, against the wall, on the floor. He’d fucked me tirelessly and loved me eternally.
The longer we were together, the more insatiable we became. It could become a real issue. But then again, could being in love ever be considered a problem?
No, never.