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Princess blinked. “You got that scar over pool?”

“Technically, I got the scar over somebody being stupid about pool,” he corrected. She stared at him for one long second before bursting into laughter. Real laughter—full-body laughter. Butcher watched her helplessly, something warm settling deep in his chest. He was a goner when it came to this woman. He was absolutely fucking gone.

Princess wiped tears from her eyes while trying to catch her breath. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well. Bikers aren’t known for conflict resolution,” Butcher grumbled. She laughed again before looking up at him with that same soft expression that kept wrecking him. And suddenly the room felt quieter, and the tension between them shifted again.

Butcher’s hand slid slowly into her hair while her laughter faded softly between them. “You know,” he murmured, “you seem to be getting really attached to a big, bad biker.”

Princess’s breath caught slightly. “Maybe I am,” she whispered. “You good with that?”

“Yep,” he breathed. Butcher kissed her gently this time, and somewhere deep down, he realized something that should’ve terrified him. For the first time since leaving Huntsville, he finally felt like he was home again.

PRINCESS

Princess should’ve been terrified. Honestly, objectively, her life had become a complete disaster. Her father wanted her to be dragged back to Chicago. There was a bounty on Butcher’s head. A biker club was literally forming around her like some kind of violent emotional support group. And somehow, she was happier than she’d ever been in her entire life. That realization hit hard the next morning while she stood barefoot in Butcher’s kitchen making coffee in one of his shirts. Happy. The word felt foreign. But Princess knew that it was real.

The sound of boots against the hardwood floor made warmth spread through her chest automatically before she even turned around. That was new, too, because nobody had ever felt like comfort before. But then, Butcher walked into the kitchen shirtless and half asleep, tattoos stretched across his broad shoulders, while his hair looked slightly messy from sleep, and every coherent thought immediately abandoned her. This man was genuinely unfair.

His eyes landed on her instantly and softened, as they always did. Princess didn’t think she’d ever get used to that. “Mornin’,” he rasped. God—that voice should be illegal before coffee.

“Morning,” she managed. Butcher moved behind her slowly while she poured coffee, his hands settling automatically on her hips, like he’d been touching her forever instead of barely a couple of weeks.

His mouth brushed lazily against the side of her neck. “You smell good.”

Princess’s knees nearly gave out immediately. “Pretty sure that’s just your soap.”

“Still counts,” he said. A laugh escaped her softly, and there it was again—that terrifying warmth. She leaned back against him without thinking, letting herself enjoy the quiet moment for exactly three seconds before reality came crashing back in.

“What time is the club meeting tonight?” she asked.

Butcher’s arms tightened slightly around her waist. “Seven.” Princess nodded slowly as her stomach twisted unexpectedly. She was nervous about their first official club meeting, and that was ridiculous. She was going to tag along, and she worried that she’d be unwelcome. That was silly, really, because these men already liked her. Well, Wade liked annoying her. But still, it counted. This should feel simple; instead, it felt important, because this wasn’t just some meeting. This was the beginning of something real, and somehow, she was standing at the center of it.

“You’re overthinking things again,” Butcher said.

“You always know when I’m spiraling,” she breathed. “How do you do that?” Butcher huffed a laugh against her neck.

“Your face gets all serious,” he admitted.

“That’s rude to say,” she teased.

“It’s cute,” he insisted. Princess rolled her eyes automatically, even while heat climbed into her cheeks. Cute. Nobody had ever called her cute before. Beautiful, sure. Hot, constantly. Useful—well, her father thought so. But cute, never. Butcher finally loosened his grip enough for her to turn around in his arms. Andshe immediately got distracted by the way he was looking at her, like he still couldn’t believe that she was really there with him.

“You keep staring at me like that, and I’m gonna become unbearable,” she informed him.

“You already are,” he whispered. Princess gasped dramatically as though he had offended her.

“Wow, emotional abuse before breakfast,” she grumbled. Butcher laughed, and the sound wrapped around her chest painfully, because there it was again—that version of him she was pretty sure almost nobody got to see anymore.

Princess reached up slowly, touching the scar along his jaw lightly. “You laugh more now.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and Butcher went still for half a second.

Then his eyes met hers again. “That's your fault too,” he breathed. Her chest tightened painfully because he didn’t even realize what he was admitting. Princess swallowed hard as the air shifted. It was the kind of intimacy that had nothing to do with sex anymore, because Princess was falling in love with him too—completely and hopelessly, and she still had no idea how to survive that.

A loud motorcycle revving outside shattered the moment, and both of them froze automatically. It was a combination of instinct and fear. Princess hated that part most of all. The way danger now lived beneath every peaceful second. Butcher’s expression sharpened immediately, all sleepy warmth disappearing.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

Princess crossed her arms. “Absolutely not.”