Page 9 of Mason

He turns to leave, and every step he takes towards his bike feels like a mile of distance placed between us. Yet, with each step, I can breathe a little easier, and think a little clearer.But the relief is fleeting because deep down, I know there's no turning back from whatever is beginning to grow between us. I watch him go, my heart a traitorous drumbeat echoing after him.

Just as he’s about to mount his bike, Mason pivots back to me, and the air around me thickens with anticipation.

"Before I go," he starts, voice low, laced with a note that sounds suspiciously like caution. "There's something else."

My pulse hammers in my throat as I meet his gaze. "Yes?"

"The club," he says, and it's not just any word—it's an invitation, a world of leather and chrome behind it. "We're having a get-together tomorrow night at Perdition. I want you to come."

“Mason, I–”

“It will only be club members and their old ladies, it won’t be open to the public. I promise you’ll be safe there.”

The words hang between us, and damn it, the way he looks at me, all intense and raw, it's like he's reaching inside me and flipping switches I didn’t know I had. But this is Mason—Pres—president of the Iron Reapers MC. His world is one of roaring engines and brotherhood, so far removed from my classroom and storybooks.

"Mason, I don't—" My hesitation tastes like fear, but curiosity burns brighter.

"Come on, Carlie," he urges, and there's that vulnerability again, an unexpected crack in his tough exterior. It nudges at my soul, whispering, 'take a chance.' "Think about it?" he adds.

"Okay, I'll think about it," I concede, my mind already waging war with itself.

He nods, gives me one of those half-smiles that's more promise than pleasure, and strides away. I watch him get on his bike and start it before driving off.

The risks are inked onto his skin, written in the lines around his eyes—the life he leads doesn't guarantee tomorrow. Yet,when he looks at me, when he speaks my name, there's this pull, strong and undeniable. There's something in Mason's gaze that tells me he's worth that leap. Underneath the tattoos and the title, there's a man who yearns for more than what his reputation offers.

To step into his world is to dance with uncertainty, to risk the safe haven I've built. But there's something thrilling about the thought of being part of something so fiercely loyal, so tightly knit.

Tomorrow, I might step into Mason's world. I'll see where this crazy, reckless road leads. Because sometimes, the most terrifying choices lead to the most extraordinary places. And Mason Blackstone... well, he's nothing if not extraordinary.

There’s a gnaw of uncertainty coiling in my stomach. Excitement flutters inside me as images of leather jackets and chrome pipes invade my thoughts. Mason's invitation weighs heavy—temptation wrapped in mystery, an offer that feels both reckless and oh so right.

"Damn it, Carlie," I mutter, shaking my head as if to dislodge my doubts. My hands move on their own, gathering lesson plans and stray markers, slipping them into my bag. Each item is familiar, safe—a stark contrast to the leap of faith that awaits me outside these walls.

My heart beats louder, a drumbeat urging me forward. It’s the sound of crossing lines, of breaking rules I've set for myself. But then I think of Mason—Pres—his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my bones even now.

"Take a chance," he'd said, his eyes burning into mine, seeing past my mess and the polite smile to something raw and wanting.

I’m on autopilot as I walk to my SUV and get in. The whole ride home my stomach flips and turns trying to figure out what I should do. This isn’t who I am. The Carlie everyone knows wouldn’t go back to the bar where two rival motorcycle clubs got into a fight a week prior. She wouldn’t forget about school, jump in the shower, and anticipate what might happen. She wouldn’t put on her tightest pair of jeans or the new shirt she ordered, just in case she hung out withhimagain. She definitely wouldn’t put on dark eye makeup, paint her lips red, and do her best to tease up her hair.

"Here goes nothing," I whisper, pushing open the door. A gust of wind greets me, ruffling my hair and carrying with it the distant roar of engines. It’s a sound that promises freedom, that beckons me closer to a world where I'm no longer just Carlie Meadows, the elementary school teacher. I'm someone new, someone braver.

I take a deep breath and step out my front door locking it. The butterflies in my belly take flight. Tonight, I choose the thrill over the fear.

My heart pounds, a drumbeat syncing with the distant throb of motorcycles. The Iron Reapers—they're not just some club; they're a brotherhood, a family bonded by loyalty and the roar of their engines. And Mason, he's their leader, their soul.

"Am I ready for this?" The question hangs heavy in my chest.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I take a moment, and let the anticipation wash over me. "Here we go," I breathe out.

As I drive my gaze fixes on the road ahead, each mile bringing me closer to Mason, to the Iron Reapers, to the possibility of something real.

SIX

MASON

I’ve beenon edge since Carlie walked into Perdition a week ago looking like a daisy in a field of black dahlias. As soon as I saw the thick blonde wreaking havoc on my senses I knew I was in trouble. I was drawn to her instantly. Too bad the Vipers walked in and ruined everything. Who knew where the night could have led if they’d stayed out.

I thought she’d freak out during the fight, but she surprised me. She was scared, but she also showed some grit. After the way she responded when I kissed her, I was about to carry her back to my room and show her who I was. All I could think of was owning her body for the night. Feeling her body pressed against mine, with her perfect curves, soft skin, and a scent I can’t get out of my head I’ve been lost to her. Having a woman in my arms never felt that right.

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