Though I’d figured—I’d hoped—the women of the Sons of Templar would be different. That I wouldn’t experience the judgement that had come with meeting the parents, the friends, the family of every boyfriend before Hades.
Not that Hades was my boyfriend.
He was my Old Man.
The thought made me smile. It also released a lot of the tension in my body, making it possible for me to move through my closet and pick a pair of tight leather pants that laced up at the front and a cropped tank top. I finished it off with some spike-heeled, red Louboutin ankle boots. I considered it to be the perfect ‘meet the outlaw bikers’ outfit. It was also a perfect outfit to communicate my style. Expensive, revealing, and just a little trashy.
When I walked back into my bedroom, Hades was dressed. I got the idea that he’d been dressed for a while, since he was sitting on my bed, stroking Sirius with one hand and frowning at his phone which was in the other. I watched him for a little while, wondering what he was doing on that phone. He had been tight-lipped about the Derek situation the entire time he’d been living here. I hadn’t even asked because parts of me didn’t want to know. The other parts of me didn’t want him to leave. Now, the thought of him leaving was absolutely terrifying. It was also terrifying that I wanted my biker Old Man of five minutes to move into my home.
Someone or something must’ve been looking out for me because Hades looked up from his phone before I could commit to a full-blown freak-out. His gaze flickered from my toes to my head, paused on my tits, then finished on my face. It was full of fire.
I waited.
For the comment.
The one I always got from men I was dating asking, “Aren’t you going to put a shirt on?” Or, “Don’t you think that’s a little...” trailing off, not actually saying the word ‘slutty’ because that would’ve made them an asshole. Even if the man in question had been attracted to me because of my fashion sense.
Most men expected me to change the way I dressed—and my occupation, but that was a whole other story—the second they considered me theirs. It was all well and good for me to dress like that to capture their attention, but once I had it, they didn’t want other men ogling what was theirs.
Hades was definitely a possessive kind of guy. The kind of guy who would not take lightly to ogling. Classic alpha male behavior.
“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, standing up and crossing the distance between us. It was like he had to make up for all the time we’d been in the same room without touching. Which did not bother me, not at all.
Hades did not say anything else other than those two words. He hadn’t needed to. The way he looked at me made it very clear that he appreciated my outfit a whole lot and nothing about it bothered him.
“We need to go,” he said, squeezing my hips.
“We do,” I agreed.
He did not step away or release me to let me go or walk toward the door.
“We really need to leave,” he said again.
“Yes, we’re late already.”
Still, he did not let me go.
“Freya, baby, you’re gonna have to be the one to step away because if I move, I’ll throw you on the fucking bed, bury myself in your pussy and we won’t leave this fucking house.” He gripped me tightly as he spoke, his body dangerously still.
I swallowed roughly, staring into his hypnotizing eyes. My body responded to his words, the promise behind them, and the evidence of how horny he was pressing into my stomach. How in the fuck was I meant to have more willpower than Hades?
For a long, long moment, I seriously considered staying exactly where I was and letting nature takes its course. Despite all the sex we’d had in the past twenty-four hours, I was desperate for more.
But I was also desperate to find my way into Hades’s world. Into the Sons of Templar. I wanted to meet his people, the people he considered his family. He’d been living with me—as my protector, staying in a different bedroom—for over a month, and I hadn’t seen any of the famed Sons of Templar, despite the few who had been on my protection duty.
Hades had obviously decided that he didn’t want anyone else in his world interacting with me. I hadn’t exactly wanted to interact with a whole bunch of people anyway; I hadn’t wanted to meet people while covered in bruises, looking like a victim. But now that my bruises had healed almost entirely, I was ready to face the world looking like myself.
So, in an act that I should’ve gotten a medal for, I stepped back. Hades watched me do so with his jaw set. “Walk out, now,” he seethed. “Don’t fuckin’ stop until you get to my bike. I’ll meet you there.” His words were forced, and he was still watching me like a predator.