Chapter 2 #2
All the women my club brothers have found have changed them for the better. The one common factor between every Heathen is that we’re all lost boys. We made our family with each other, but we’re all broken inside. But the four that have their queens? They’ve been healed.
I want that. Even if I know it’s not in the cards.
There’s no healing someone who doesn’t just live and walk in the darkness.
I am the darkness. There’s no escaping it.
Chaos and Rogue were wandering through it, looking for their light to bring them out.
That’s not me. There’s no leaving it. I’m not looking for redemption or a savior; those things aren’t attainable for someone who craves what I crave.
“Now you look like you’re somewhere else,” she says, throwing my words back at me.
“Just lost in my head.”
“That’s a scary place to be.”
“If you only knew, Saigey. If you only knew.”
Mrs. Odette returns with several pastry boxes a moment later and charges my card. We say our goodbyes and head outside.
After strapping everything down on the back of my bike, we head back to the clubhouse.
I keep my head on a swivel, never wanting to take our extended peace for granted.
If I’ve learned anything from watching my brothers, it’s that the moment you become complacent and comfortable, all hell will break loose.
I can’t afford to let anyone down, so I’m always on edge, always ready. Even if it doesn’t seem like I am.
Some of our club ranked members, Wrath, Rolo, and Noose, are all outside on the large porch when Saige and I pull up.
It’s barely nine in the morning, and the heat is already brutal, so I don’t understand how they’re standing out here smoking in jeans, T-shirts, and layers.
I hate clothes and rarely wear a T-shirt.
The only reason I put one on today was that I knew Mrs. Odette would throw me out of Daily Rise if I wasn’t dressed.
I unstrap the boxes, holding them up above my head as I walk up the stairs of the clubhouse, knowing everyone will descend on me like a pack of starving, feral wolves.
“You get those donut croissant things?” Wrath asks as he releases a puff of earthy smoke.
“I got whatever Mrs. Odette put in these boxes. You know I don’t get to choose unless it’s my birthday,” I reply.
“You don’t even know when your birthday is, Mal,” he quips.
“Which is why I reserve the right to tell her it’s my birthday once or twice a year when I get a craving for something special.”
“That’s bullshit,” he argues.
“You’re bullshit, sir. At least you have a birthday.”
“You have a birthday, Mal, you just don’t know when it is.”
“Then do I really have one, Wrath? Do I?”
“You do know what a birthday is, right?” Sin asks as he flicks open a box to snag a banana muffin for Bristol.
I’ve learned they’re her favorite and he hand-feeds them to her like she’s a baby bird.
I’ve never seen him chew it up first, though.
I make a mental note to ask him. I bet they do that in private.
I wonder if all women like that. To be hand-fed. Not to have their food chewed up and spit into their mouth. Then I look over at Saige and bristle. I would bet my right nut she isn’t one of them. She’d likely bite someone’s fingers off.
“Prez, Saige let you feed her?”
“What?” he says, pulling his long dark hair out of his face and tying it in a bun.
“Does. Saige. Let. You. Feed. Her?” I say, enunciating my words very slowly.
Wrath and Sin both chuckle through their bites of food. “She’ll do whatever the fuck I tell her to do.”
Saige’s head whips in his direction, her bangs swishing above her eyes. “Like hell I will, Camden. You want to test that theory and see how that works for you? I dare you.”
Mission accomplished. I laugh, turning my focus back to the open boxes spread out on the bar, quickly snatching up a chocolate chip muffin. I like everything Mrs. Odette bakes and would have taken the scraps of anything left behind, but I’m glad it’s a chocolate chip muffin today.
“So, what was last night about?” Sin asks between bites of food.
“I had a threesome. Was pretty decent, too. I bottomed for this dude who wanted to fuck me and her at the same time.”
Chaos chokes on his bite of food, and Sin pats his back hard as he coughs through it.
“I meant with Rolo, Mal, not your sex life,” Sin says with an eye roll.
I bark out a rough laugh. “Ahh. What, you guys don’t want to hear about my blended orgasm?
” Sin and Wrath both chuckle, and I smile, amused with myself.
Most of the shit out of my mouth is just to get them to laugh, and I like pushing their buttons.
Chaos looks at me with sharp eyes that could cut glass.
“No,” Chaos replies roughly.
“I do, what the fuck is that?” Wrath asks.
“It’s an orgasm through blended stimulation. Last night it was my prostate and my cock. Overfilled her mouth until she was gurgling on it, and it seeped out the corners.”
“For fuck’s sake, Malice,” Chaos says under his breath.
“Didn’t take you for such a prude, Prez.
Pretty sure you’re fucking Saige until her violent little brain goes empty.
” Chaos moves fast, pulling his knife and holding it to Sin’s neck, his other hand grasping a fistful of his hair and yanking his head backward.
A drop of blood beads at the blade, and I watch as it grows in size.
One. I mentally count.
Blood has always fascinated me. The color, how quickly it can leave your body. The different ways it can leak, seep, or spray.
Sin puts up his hands in defense, palms facing outward, with a big cheesy-ass grin on his face. He loves pushing Chaos to his limit just as much as I do, and talking about Saige will get him there quickly.
“What’d I tell you about talking about my woman like that?”
Sin just chuckles, the bead now trickling slowly down his neck just as another one forms.
Two.
I lean into his space, putting my face right in Sin’s ear. “He said not to,” I whisper.
“That’s right. Listen to Mal, Sin, or I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear just like my woman does. Got it?”
Three. Tap.
“Yeah, Prez, you angry fucker, I get it.” Chaos releases Sin and sits back down to finish his food while Sin smiles and cleans up the streak of blood down his neck. I grin at all of them like a fool, my eyes darting around.
We’re all crazy, but this is home.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of mindlessness, and as night falls, the party kicks up.
I get dressed in a pair of tight leather pants that hang low on my hips, the bones of my pelvis protruding from the top.
I drag a thick layer of black eyeliner under my eyes, then I slip into my leather cut.
My eyes clock the Sgt. at Arms patch on the front.
Hard to believe someone with my start in life is a ranked member of a respected motorcycle club.
I’ve never had an opportunity to want for anything, always just trying to survive, but I’ve got a place here.
A home. A family. And this position? The club’s enforcer and security officer? It’s exactly right for me.
The bass hits me square in the chest before I even open the door from my bedroom. The kind of thumping bass that you feel behind your ribs and not in your ears, the beat taking over the rhythm of your heart, controlling your breathing. My head bobs to the sound as my bare feet lead me to the bar.
The clubhouse smells like a hearty mix of beer, cigarette smoke, and engine oil. Won’t be long before the scent of sex mingles with it. It’s familiar and gets my blood pumping. Minus the beer, that scent alone will tap into the demon I keep locked up.
The massive bay doors are propped open wide, large fans trying to pull in some cool air from outside. Inside the clubhouse is all sticky heat and noise, so I grab one of the Shirley Temple 7UPs from behind the bar and head outside to light up a smoke.
Bikes are lined up like guard dogs, the chrome catching on the floodlights.
My eyes scan them, tapping each one out against my thigh with my middle finger.
The earthy, smoky scent of marijuana hits my nose, and I clock Wrath at the end of the porch, a patch bunny bent over as he drills his hard dick inside her, a joint resting between his lips.
Cora grips the banister, her back arched, ass jutted out.
My eyes trace down the fine line of her spine.
She’s one I haven’t fucked yet, and now I’m wondering why.
I relax against the side of the building, crossing my feet at my ankles to get comfortable for the show. Smoke swirls around my head as I exhale, the cherry glowing bright between my fingers.
Wrath likes to be watched, and he doesn’t give a shit whose eyes are on them.
Fuck knows the patch bunny doesn’t either.
They’re all here willingly, and we provide a bunkhouse for them to have privacy and space from the club members.
But they know why they’re here. Free shelter, free food, and fucking. Lots and lots of fucking.
Voyeurism doesn’t really do it for me, but I’m happy to help one of my patch brothers out.
One of Wrath’s hands grips her hip, his fingers pressing deep into her flesh, the other hand wrapped around her long blonde ponytail, forcing her head backward.
The long line of her neck is exposed, and I have to push away my sinister thoughts.
I bet she’d look so pretty painted in crimson.
Her moans float on the air, accompanied by the harsh grunts coming from my patch brother.