Jabba’s Journey (Iron Howlers MC #2)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Jabba

“Tell me you didn’t just run through the common room with your junk hanging out,” Cyrus bellows.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I shout back. My focus is on what happened, what it means for the two clubs, and of course, the fact that I now have a mate.

A mate. As those two words resonate in my mind, I stop in my tracks. I don’t know if we’ll be able to communicate telepathically or not but decide to try it later on.

“Brother, you’re naked, and as far as I know, we didn’t plan for a club run. I know Jazzy’s a shifter as well, but we’ve always tried to shield her from us when we shift back to our human form,” Cyrus replies.

Okay, he’s still yelling, but nowhere near as loudly as he did when I first stopped in front of him, which is good. His words penetrate my foggy mind and glancing down, I realize he’s right and I’m standing before them butt ass naked. I shoulda thought ahead before rushing to relay our newest development to him. My mind was centered on the safety of my brothers, women, and children, and not my state of dress. I was so consumed with finding him so we could try and figure out what happened while I was off with Electra that I didn’t even think to grab a pair of sweats to slip on in my haste. He tosses me a pair of pants which I slip on, grateful that we have them stacked practically anywhere.

“Thank the goddess you covered up,” Prowler says, snickering.

“Don’t be jealous,” I snark as I slip on the proffered sweats. “We can’t all be goddess blessed.”

He reaches down and grabs his junk before thrusting his hips in my direction. “Maybe I don’t show it off because I don’t want to offend you and your mini me.”

“Guys!” Cyrus hollers. “Focus. It’s like I’m surrounded by pups and not grown ass wolves. What was so important that you came in here swinging your junk around like it’s the blade of a helicopter?”

“Is Corbin on his way by any chance?” I question, not wanting to repeat myself multiple times if at all possible. I feel like I’m always having to do that; repeat myself like a broken record and it takes away precious time we need to formulate a plan.

“How would you know that? I called before you came running into the room,” Cyrus replies.

I shrug my shoulders because I didn’t know, but I was hoping that they could feel the urgency beneath our bond and felt what I was projecting.

“Can I wait to tell all of y’all at the same time?” I question. I don’t want to be disrespectful of my president, but something deep inside my gut is telling me that time is of the essence.

“Why is it that you ask me that exact question every time I ask you to tell me something?” Cyrus throws his hands in the air but there’s a hint of humor in his tone, so I don’t take offense.

I sigh then say, “Because it usually ends up that I repeat the same situation more than once. It gets exhausting, Brother.”

The room explodes in laughter because some of these fuckers I call brother do it to me as well. They know I prefer solitude to being the center of attention. I may be the club’s enforcer, but it’s mostly because I have the ability to stay somewhat apart from everyone else so I can keep an eye on everyone and everything.

“He’s got a point, Pres,” Prowler says once he stops snickering. “And he’s a surly fucker on the best of days.”

“He’s supposed to be surly, he’s our enforcer,” Bandit retorts.

Gee thanks, VP, my mind snarks. I don’t say it out loud of course; I do value my life after all.

“Well, surly or not, we all do that to him any time something comes up and with everything that’s happened since Harmony first came, it’s probably wearing on him,” Prowler advises.

I appreciate him doing that; he was with me on those long trips when we sought to find the missing club girls and saw it happening several times as I was inundated with phone calls from several of the brothers, as well as a couple from Corbin’s club.

Big Daddy was probably the worst, though, because he wanted hourly updates. He often got frustrated with me when I had nothing new to share. I mean, the man wasn’t the president of the mother club any longer, but I wasn’t going to be the one to inform him of that particular fact. Nope. I like my face right where it’s at, on top of my shoulders.

“Fine, go grab some real clothes while we wait for them to get here. I’ll get one of the prospects to bring drinks.”

Nodding, I rush from the room, so intent on quickly changing into my typical uniform of jeans, t-shirt, boots, and my cut, that I fail to see Queenie in front of me and end up with an armful of her as I try to keep from falling and crushing her.

“Shit, sorry,” I mutter, so focused on my task that I don’t realize anyone is nearby, let alone another of the club girls.

That little misstep on my part is going to come back and bite me on the ass.

“Oh, it’s okay, Jabba,” Queenie purrs as she runs one of her long, perfectly manicured talons across my bare chest. “You look a little stressed out, would you like me to help you with that?”

“No, no, I need to get to a meeting,” I mutter, finally setting her aside to haul ass to my room.

As I slip into clean clothes, my mind wanders to the fact that my brothers had to have scented the mating pheromones on me, but they didn’t give me any shit about it clogging the room. Since it’s a brand-new bond, the scent is strong… nearly overpowering. Once I’ve redressed, I hurry back down to the room we hold church in and take my seat. Bandit hands me an ice-cold beer which I quickly pop the top off of and take a long, satisfying drink.

“Damn, that hit the spot,” I murmur, sitting it on the table only to find all my brothers’ eyes concentrated on me. “What?” I bark out, my wolf still close to the surface.

He knows danger surrounds us, he just doesn’t know if it’s only from the Red Caps, or from something far more nefarious.

“Care to share why you smell as though you mated?” Bandit’s silky tone has me glaring at him.

He has a smarmy look on his face, and I want nothing more than to smash it off of him, but Cyrus frowns on us beating the shit out of each other unless we’re actively training.

“Maybe because I did?” I retort. “Not up for discussion right now. We’ve got bigger issues and as soon as Corbin and whoever he’s bringing arrive, I’ll enlighten you. All of you,” I say in a snarly tone, giving Cyrus a slight nod.

Turtle, who’s been steadily moving his hands over his keyboard, looks up and says, “I can’t find anything, Cyrus.”

“What are you looking for?” I ask, my curiosity now roused.

“Before you came here waving your twig and berries, we all felt a disturbance shift in the atmosphere,” Turtle advises. “Harmony told Cyrus it felt as though it was infused with magic, but she couldn’t identify where it was coming from, so we haven’t been able to pinpoint the threat to neutralize it. That’s when Corbin and his guys were called.”

Something about what he says is niggling in my brain. “Wait, twig and berries? Twig and berries? Really, Turtle? More like a tree trunk and two bushes!”

Once again, the room reverberates with laughter, with Lucky slapping his hand on the table while tears flow down his face as he keeps repeating what I’ve said, only to break down again. Fuckers. All of them are juveniles. Adolescent, prepubescent fuckers. I relish the next time they’re in the ring with me because I’ll make them eat their words, that’s for damn sure.

There’s a knock at the door and at Cyrus’s bellow to enter, I watch as Corbin, Big Daddy, Dane, Justice, Abel, and Tucker walk in with Evan and Howie behind them carrying trays of beers. After they hand them out, they leave, closing the door behind them.

“I left Coby with Harmony, Karsyn, and Electra,” Corbin says as he finds a seat and settles in. When he sees Turtle plucking away at his laptop, he asks, “Unless we need him in here too?”

“If I need him, I’ll go get him,” Turtle says, never looking up from the monitor’s screen. Then, he must realize he’s just replied to a club president, and he glances up and says, “As long as that’s okay with y’all.”

Both Cyrus and Corbin smirk and I can see why they weren’t able to stay under the same clubhouse. They’re both Alpha to the core but are inherently different when it comes to how they deal with threats. Corbin is more apt to eradicate the threat and while Cyrus can and has done the same, he usually sets about handling things a bit more on the legal side of life. Corbin simply doesn’t care if he’s being diplomatic or not.

Cyrus looks at me and says, “Jabba, you’re up.”

Fuck, I hate it when I’m made the center of attention and all eyes are trained on me, but I mentally pull up my boxer briefs and start. “I’ve known since we rescued the club girls and found Electra with them that she was my mate. When I informed her of the fact she was my mate, she mentioned something about lore that had been passed down from her grandmother.”

At Tucker’s blank look, it dawns on me that he doesn’t know about that little gem, so I continue. “She said that the strongest coupling stems from a witch and shifter relationship. According to her grandmother, the lore that was passed down through several generations, there will be a large quantity of those relationships in great times of danger. We know we’ve faced Death already.” At that, Corbin growls since it was his mate who was horrifically abused by Death and his minions, but aside from giving him a commiserating look, I try to keep things on track.

“I took her out to the hot spring, and she met my wolf…”

I’m interrupted by Bandit who’s cackling like a hyena and makes sure the entire room hears when he says, “He means she rode his wolf.”

Rolling my eyes, and not letting him wind me up, I pick up the conversation from right before he so rudely butted in. “And while we were out there, the urge to complete the mating came over us both, as if not to do so would be a death sentence for all of us.” More chuckles are heard from the peanut gallery, which I manage to ignore. “As our bond kicked in, black clouds came from out of nowhere and settled over the two of us, and as our bond cemented, we both heard an unearthly scream as if our union pained it.”

“Fuck,” Cyrus murmurs. I can feel his stress levels ramp up and wonder what has him stressing so much. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with an unseen enemy and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

“I think it came from the Red Caps myself, or at the very least, they were involved, but Electra felt as if it was enchanted with magic.”

“So let me get this straight,” Bandit says, all business now. “We know that Fate decides who our mates will be, but the fact that the presidents from both clubs are mated to earth witches and now you’re mated to a water witch, there’s a purpose behind that as well? What the fuck do we need to be so strong for?”

“All three of the women are currently going through their grimoires to see if there’s any lore that will further explain what Electra’s grandmother told her,” Cyrus says. “Since the Red Caps are known to deal with the dark arts, it’s possible they’ve partnered with a blood witch for this latest assault.”

A round of ‘fuck’ goes through the room and I see Big Daddy clenching his fists as anger rolls through him. “All we want is to live peaceful lives.”

“What if this isn’t about us but about the humans?” Turtle asks, popping his head up from his laptop. “What if the Red Caps and the blood witches want to enslave them?”

“Well, if that’s not the sixty-four-million-dollar question, I don’t know what is,” Corbin states.

Fuck. Me.