Roxanne (Hvitserk x OC)

PART III

Hvitserk led Roxanne back to the party, which was still going strong. Her hands had hold of his forearm so they wouldn't lose one another in the crowd. Half of them would be sprawled out across the clubhouse come morning, the other half would've at least found a bed. He located his shirt with the club's logo emblazoned across the front, his jeans and his kutte ringside.

He stripped his fighting shorts off and pulled his jeans on, not worried about anyone watching. He'd grown up with most of these people. He had no shame being half naked.

"You wanna find your friend, let her know I'm taking you to the hotel?" he asked, glancing at Roxanne as he picked up his shirt.

She shook her head, holding her phone up. "I let her know. If she needs me, she'll message."

He dragged his shirt over his head and donned his kutte. Looking around, he saw Ubbe ducking into the clubhouse with a sweet butt. He hadn't seen Ivar all night, nothing new when there were different charters in town, and he was sure Sigurd would be occupied by now with his own companion, or two. His brother was more a hippy then biker some days. He dug into the pocket of his jeans to find his smokes as he watched Roxanne watching the people around them. People spoke to him, congratulating him on the win before they shuffled along. She still looked out of place here, he didn't mind though. It was what got his attention in the first place.

Finishing his smoke, he took hold of Roxanne's hand, fingers curling through hers to keep her close as he steered her towards where his bike was. It was lined up on the far side of the lot for the night, keeping them safe from the drunk crowd. They broke away from the sea of people and were halfway to his bike when someone caught him by the shoulder. Turning, he came face to face with his father. Roxanne turned with him, ending up a little behind him and her fingers squeezed his gently as Hvitserk waited for whatever was coming.

"We need to talk," Ragnar said, breaking the silence. Those intense, bright blue eyes lowered to where Roxanne was before coming back up.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Hvitserk replied, moving back towards his bike. He wanted to go. He was tired, and hungry.

"I'm not asking." Ragnar frowned as he refused to comply, again.

"I know," he said, then turned away. "Doesn't change my answer."

He gave his father his back, hoping he took the hint.

"This is as your President, not your father Hvit." He had followed them to his bike. Hvitserk shrugged, still not turning to Ragnar as he located his helmet in his pack and held it out to Roxanne. She took it, her eyes darting between the two of them; giving away all the confusion and questions she desperately wanted to ask. It was clear she was uncomfortable being witness to this. There was so much she didn't know about his world, about him. The main question that hung over Hvitserk was how much of that did he tell her? What happened if things didn't work out, this was all fresh and new. He could protect her by not telling her everything but that was a double-edged sword. It could still have drawbacks; would she trust him? There were only two women he knew who had full knowledge of what and who the club really was: his mother and Lagertha.

Hvitserk didn't know what to do on that front.

"Pretty sure it can still wait until tomorrow, I'm tired." Roxanne was focusing on putting the helmet on as he flipped up the kickstand and started to walk it out of the line. Ragnar stood in his path, a hand on the bar of his bike, stopping him.

"The sweet butt can wait, boy."

Hvitserk glanced at Roxanne who was quietly keeping pace with them. "She's not a sweet butt." He felt irritated over having to repeat this tonight, but also at the way his father called him boy. Hvitserk stared his father in the eyes. They weren't close, Ragnar was lucky he had the President patch; it was the only thing that made Hvitserk respect his father. As a kid, he'd wanted to be like Ragnar, he'd wanted a kutte and a Harley, he'd idolized Ubbe when the teen had been gifted his first bike from Ragnar, but he'd never gotten that. Ragnar had up and left before he'd been old enough to Prospect. It'd woken him up, and he'd seen Ragnar for what he was behind the gushing praise others gave him. He might have made the club better, but he'd done it at the cost of not knowing his sons.