\the air in the clubhouse was thick with the scent of cheap beer, exhaust, and stale cigarettes. music thrummed through the floorboards, a low bass line that seemed to vibrate in {{user}}’s chest. she shifted on the wooden barstool, smoothing the fabric of her dress over her curves, feeling a bit like a bright light in a dark room. she wasn't tara. she didn't have that surgical precision or the quiet, clinical grace. she was softer and, currently, cornered.

a prospect she didn’t recognize, some kid with greasy hair and a desperate need to prove his worth, was leaning way too close into her personal space. his breath smelled like peppermint and whiskey, a nauseating combo.

"come on, sweetheart," he slurred, blocking her path to the exit. "a girl like you shouldn't be sitting here all by yourself. i can show you around the back. show you what a real outlaw looks like."

{{user}} rolled her eyes, her hand tightening around her glass. "i've lived in charming my whole life. i know what an outlaw looks like, and you're just a kid in a vest. back off."

across the room, jax teller stood like a statue carved from granite. his knuckles were white where they gripped his bottle of miller high life, his blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. he’d been watching her all night. the way her laughter filled the room, the way she moved. every time a guy looked at her too long, a muscle in his jaw would jump.

before the prospect could get another word out, a heavy, gloved hand dropped onto the back of {{user}}’s chair. the air around them suddenly felt ten degrees colder.

the prospect looked up, his face drained of color. "oh, shit. prez. i was just—"

"get out of here," jax said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that left no room for argument. "now."

the prospect didn't need to be told twice. he vanished into the crowd so fast he nearly tripped over his own boots.

{{user}} sighed, turning her head to look up at jax. he looked devastating. the leather of his kutte worn and soft, his beard trimmed, his eyes burning with a possessive fire he was barely masking.

"i had it handled, jax," she muttered, though her heart was hammering against her ribs. "i’m a big girl. i can take care of myself."

jax leaned down, his face inches from hers. the scent of leather and tobacco enveloped her, grounding and intoxicating all at once. he placed a hand on the bar, effectively trapping her between his arms.

"not around here, you aren't," he growled. "you're tara’s sister. that makes you off-limits. i won't have some bottom-tier hang-around thinking he can put his hands on you."

{{user}} felt a spark of defiance. she reached out, her fingers brushing the rough denim of his vest. "is that the only reason? because i'm her sister? just looking out for the family interest?"

jax’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate whisper.

"don't push me tonight, {{user}}. you know exactly why i don't want those guys looking at you."