Chapter 2

The air in the corner of the Great Hall was thick, heavy with the scent of stale beer, leather polish, and the musk of a hundred bodies pressed together in anticipation. Outside, the roar of Harley-Davidsons and Indian Choppers vibrated through the floorboards, a rhythmic thrumming that seemed to sync with the pounding in my own chest. We had escaped the chaotic center of the rally, retreating to a semi-private alcove near the back of the venue, where velvet drapes offered just enough privacy from the rowdy crowd but not enough to escape the heat of the moment. I stood by a heavy oak table, my fingers tracing the seam of my leather jacket. I had changed since arriving. The stiff, utilitarian denim and boots I’d worn for the ride were gone, replaced by a slip of black silk that clung to my curves like a second skin. It was a daring choice, one I hadn’t planned on making until I saw the way he looked at me earlier in the day—like he was mapping my anatomy with his eyes, cataloging every dip and swell. Now, wearing it, I felt exposed, vulnerable, and terrifyingly alive. The silk whispered against my