Page 66 of Scornful

Kraken… Magnus... Where is he? Where's?—

My breath catches as more men enter. Rati, Logi... Still no Geirolf. Panic begins to suffocate me.

And then he appears in the doorway, and the world stops spinning.

There's blood on his arm, his cut is torn, but he's alive.

He's here.

I don't remember moving.

One second, I'm frozen by the couch, the next, I'm throwing myself at him, my lips crashing against his in front of the entire club.

I pour everything into that kiss—my relief, my fear, my love.

His good arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer as he kisses me back just as desperately.

I can taste the adrenaline on his lips, feel the tension in his body, and I don't care that everyone's watching.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathing hard, my hands still fisted in his torn cut.

His ice-blue eyes are dark with emotion as he looks down at me.

"Well, ain't that fuckin’ touching." Dad’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife. "Maybe save the reunion for somewhere more private?"

Heat floods my cheeks, but not from embarrassment.

I pull back from Geirolf just enough to shoot my father a glare. "I'm twenty-four years old, Dad. I'll kiss my man wherever I damn well please."

His eyebrows shoot up at my tone, and I can feel the tension ripple through the room.

The other club members suddenly find the walls very interesting, though I catch a few hidden smiles.

"Is that so?" Dad’s voice is dangerously low, the tone that used to make me cower as a teenager.

But I'm not a teenager anymore.

"Yeah, it is. And if you have a problem with it, I think we need to talk in your office."

The challenge hangs in the air between us.

I can feel Geirolf tense beside me, probably wondering if I've lost my damn mind.

Maybe I have.

But I'm tired of hiding, tired of pretending, tired of being treated like a child.

Fenrir's jaw clenches, but he jerks his head toward the hallway. "Fine. Let's talk."

I squeeze Geirolf's hand once before following my father, feeling the eyes of the entire club on my back.

The walk to his office feels longer than usual, each step growing heavier.

He closes the door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the small space.

"You've got some brass balls talking to me like that in front of my club," Fenrir starts, his voice dangerously low as he moves behind his desk.

"And you've got some nerve making snide comments about my relationship in front of everyone," I shoot back, crossing my arms. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad. I haven't been for a long time."

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