“The Book of Job?”

“From the bible. Verse eleven-seventeen.”

She raises and gives me a curious look. “You’ve read the bible?”

“Yep, I’ve lost count of how many times. Some parts more than others.” Her forehead furrows. So I go on to explain. “My stepdad was . . . one of those religious freaks you hear about and he was strict.” Her eyes widen. “My mom married him when I was ten.”

“Where was your dad?”

“He died while working on a construction site the day before I turned two.”

“Mav . . . I’m sor—”

Moving our joined hands, I place a finger over her lips. “It’s all right, Doll. I don’t even remember him. All I know about him is the stuff my mom’s told me.” I let our hands drop back to my chest. “Paul’s been my father for all intents and purposes, and besides the fact he made sure my life revolved around church and nothin’ else from the day my mom and I moved in, he was decent and more than provided for us.”

“But you sound like you’re angry with him.”

I shrug. “That’s ‘cause I am.”

She raises an eyebrow.

It’s hard talking about my parents. It’s hard voicing my frustrations when I’m so used to keeping them to myself. But maybe, by opening up to Doll, she’ll be more inclined to open up to me.

On a sigh, I say, “It was a big change for me to fall in line with his rules at first. I rebelled. We fought. My mom cried all the time. And around and around we went.” I pull our hands up and raise my fingers. She does the same. Then I slide my longer fingers through her small dainty ones.

“I could never take it when my mom cried though. So eventually, I stopped fighting. I went to church, prayed, read scriptures, and became the perfect son they both wanted me to be. But the older I got, the more I started to question things. I realized some of his beliefs didn’t sit right with me. And I began to see how much in life I was missing. Instead of causing a riff again with him and my mom, I kept my thoughts to myself. I decided to bide my time. When I turned eighteen, I’d be able to choose what kind of life I wanted to live. Maybe, finally spread my wings in college and find my own compass to judge right and wrong.

“And now, my stepdad doesn’t approve of the man I’ve become. He despises the life I’ve chosen to lead. Can’t fathom how I could live this way and be a HOC after everything he’s taught me. He believes whole-heartedly that I’m on the pathway to hell. And he’s feedin’ that same crap to my mother. Tells her, her son is lost to her now and shit like that. He’s got her so wrapped around his finger, she has to hide our relationship from him, which means I rarely get to see her or talk to her.”

“Oh, God, Mav . . .”

I shrug. “It’s fine. The HOCs are my family now.”

But as soon as I say it, my chest constricts. “Nah, you know what? It’s not fine. It might make me sound like a complete pussy to admit it, but I miss her.”

Doll squeezes my hand and tears glisten in her eyes. I haven’t thought of it until now, but shit, she probably misses her mom too. Something else we have in common. I sweep the tear sliding down her cheek and pull her tighter to me. For a long time, we just simply hold each other. I rub her back and listen to her steady breaths as they kiss my skin on each exhale.

After a few minutes, her breathing evens out, and I almost think she’s fallen asleep until she whispers, “You’re a lot more human than I thought you were, Luce.”

Smirking, I say, “I told you I’m well versed in scripture. So I’ve figured out what Luce stands for, babe.”

Her body tenses against mine.

“Luce. Short for Lucifer.”

She cautiously lifts her head and her wary gaze finds me. “Uhmmm, you don’t seem upset that I’ve been calling you the Devil this whole time.”

Trailing my fingers down her spine, I say, “Well, he is rumored to be a handsome SOB.”

She narrows her eyes. “Yeah, that’s not—”

Putting a finger over her lips, I finish, “I’m just kiddin’, Doll. I know why.”

Her gorgeous hair is tickling my chest and she’s peering up at me through those cinnamon lashes of hers. This close, I can see the streaks of blue in her irises far outweigh the green. And her skin, God, her skin makes me want to play connect the dots like a six-year-old, and taste every inch of her.

I take a mental picture of this moment. If this doesn’t work out, for any reason, I always want to remember her just like this.

“You walked into a clubhouse that must’ve looked like Hell on Earth. You did it because you were desperate and needed help. I saw that in your eyes right away. And even though I had the power to make your life a little easier, I was nothin’ but cruel.” Coldhearted and merciless.

I graze my thumb over her lip. “That’s something I’ll always regret.”

“So you’re not mad?”

I chuckle. “Nah, actually, it fits better than any name the guys ever tried to give me.”

“Why do you say that?”

I had three days and hundreds of miles to figure out why she called me Luce. Once the answer hit me, I immediately began to add up all of the similarities. So many that it was unnerving. Lucifer’s greedy and impatient. He tried to play God to get what he wanted. He was always too dark to live among saints, but not satisfied living among sinners. He still thinks he deserves his little slice of heaven though he’s an evil son of a bitch who hurts innocent people.

But I’m not quite ready to confess all of that to her just yet. No, I’m trying to win her over, not scare her off.

“Lucifer was a saint before his fall, a devil after it. When I laid my hands on you, I realized how far I’d fallen. How much I’ve let what happened with Dana change me. How dark and ruthless I’d become, compared to who I was before . . . the man my parents raised me to be.”

She silently watches me for a moment.

“Also, in Latin, Lucifer means, ‘morning star’. And I’m nothin’ if not a mornin’ person.” The only time I’ve ever been able to sleep past seven is when I go to bed drunk off my ass.

She thinks that over for a moment. “Can I ask you something?” I nod. “How did you go from college to this?”

“I fell in love with ridin’. I met Edge and Cap at a bike rally and we hit it off. For a guy who grew up as an only child, I envied how close they all were and how they had each other’s backs. They invited me to come check out the club and I did for a couple of weeks. I loved it, wanted to stay. When I left I missed the lifestyle and the friends I’d made, so I came back. Cap offered to sponsor me as a prospect. But I didn’t know if I could do what they’d ask me to do.”

“Obviously, you did.”

Letting her hand go again, I rub my hand over the top of hers. “Yeah. But Cap was a little easier on me than some of the other prospects we’ve had.”

“How long have you been here?”

The side of my mouth curves up when I think of all of the memories I have as a HOC, some of my earlier years being some of the best. “Nine years.”

“Nine years. Wow. How old are you?” She bites her lip.

“Thirty-three.” Her eyes go big and I laugh. “What, too old?” She shakes her head. After a bit, I say, “Okay. My turn.”

She eyes me speculatively. “Your turn for what?”

“To find out somethin’ I’ve been dyin’ to know about you.” Her little muscles clench and she goes still against me. “What’s your first name?”

She looks away and tries to pull her hand from my chest. I don’t let her. I know her first instinct is to retreat and hide when threatened, but she’s also strong when she needs to be. Especially, when she’s given a little push.

“Doll, I want this to work. Real fuckin’ badly. But I can’t start somethin’ with you, if I don’t know who you really are.”

She stares down at me. It takes some time, but eventually she blows out a frustrated breath. It’s barely audible, but I hear her when she says, “My name’s Ember.”