Chapter 9
Loreena
Scythe obviously isn’t the kind of man who wastes time messing about.
While I called Sylvie and filled her in on everything, then threw myself into work for a few hours, he and Maverick stayed upstairs and got organized.
I was totally unaware of what they were doing.
Their voices filtered down into the basement in dull murmurs and were surprisingly comforting.
It was shocking all around just how easily I got used to my new surroundings.
I sometimes wondered if the agoraphobia extended to any place beyond my apartment. The uncertainty used to press down around me, worse than the reality of knowing.
After a few hours of work, Scythe knocked on the basement door and came down to ask me if I’d be alright warming up dinner he’d leave in the fridge for me while he took Maverick to the clubhouse to discuss some work.
I assured him that I’d be fine and tried to ignore the flicker of irritation that skirted across his face whenever he mentioned Maverick’s name.
He said that he could have a few of the women stop by after dinner, so that I didn’t have to be alone.
It sounded optional, it truly did, but I didn’t want to be that person. The one who hid in his basement and made the whole thing weird.
Right. Weirder.
I said that a visit sounded lovely. Scythe instructed me not to worry about being the best company. No one on earth expected me to be settled in within a day.
I’ve been sitting here in the living room upstairs, perched on the burgundy leather couch, a plate of chicken parm and a side of cut up veggie sticks placed on top of a dish towel on my lap.
Scythe’s house is meticulously clean, and though the floor is some kind of wood, I didn’t want to risk making a mess.
I’ve been picking away at the obviously homemade meal, surprised that I have any sort of appetite, and also at how good it is.
These celery and carrot sticks were even cut up by hand, and they’re so darned even.
Plus, there was homemade dipping sauce in a little bowl right beside the plastic wrapped plate.
The whole thing still makes my eyes prickle with unshed tears. It’s been so long since I’ve had a home-cooked meal that I didn’t make myself, and seeing that wrapped up plate prepared just for me because someone cared enough that I’d be hungry later, nearly undid me.
Scythe told me to make myself at home. He explained to me where everything was in the kitchen and even left a plastic bag of homemade chocolate chip cookies on the counter to have with tea when Lark and Ella get here.
He gave me their names, but nothing else about them.
Also? I think he prevented Maverick from coming back down to the basement to see me. By the time I finished my work and ventured upstairs, the house had been quiet for hours.
Scythe didn’t say what time I was supposed to expect guests, but he did say they’d be sure to let themselves in so that I didn’t have to go to the door.
His consideration made me want to cry too.
I finish eating while I stare out the bay window. The day is gray, like so many winter days are. We’re lucky in Washington to have mostly mild weather, especially compared to some places, but going for days without seeing the sun is dreary.
I know that some would say that seasons shouldn’t matter to a person like me, but nothing is further from the truth.
I watch the world through windows, and I like the sun, the birdsong, and the insects that flit by, as much as anyone else.
I might even appreciate it more, for the fact that I can’t just go out and experience it authentically.
I’m washing my dish in the sink when a knock sounds at the front door. It opens and closes and women’s voices filter through the hall.
“Hello? It’s Lark.”
“And Ella.”
I quickly set the plate into the clean section of the double sink beside my cutlery and dry my hands.
I didn’t want to appear pretentious, but I did put my hair up in a messy bun and put on some makeup.
That’s about the extent of my getting ready skills.
For a second, I’m worried that my jeans are too shapeless with their boyfriend cut, and that I should have chosen a better sweater than the cream knit, but I shrug it off.
At least until the two women appear in the kitchen.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Sylvie is a gorgeous woman. I love her alternative style from her vibrant hair to her corporate goth attire. She’s her own person and her confidence in herself shines through, making her doubly attractive.
These women are all that as well. They’re both stunningly gorgeous.
Next to the blonde bombshell rocking leather pants, a tight tank that pushes her breasts up, and a vintage denim jacket, I feel about as straight up and down as a skinny old stick.
The woman next to her has a completely different style.
The floral dress that ends at her knees, the black tights, Mary Janes, and the oversized black knit sweater, all envelop her petite body, but in that perfect oversized fit.
She’s a boho princess and the other is a freaking biker babe, and I’m just…
Frumpy.
“Hi!” The biker babe says as she walks across the kitchen and sticks out a hand without hesitating. “I’m Ella. I don’t know if Maverick or Scythe have told you anything about us? I teach at the college here.”
Lark steps up beside her and envelops me in the softest, gentlest side hug as soon as I’m done shaking Ella’s hand. “And I’m Lark, but by process of deduction, you already know that.”
I can’t help but gape at them. “I expected that you’d be- I- err…” I try to cut off the words that I just blurted like a flustered dumbass, but Ella raises a brow and grins.
“Older?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I don’t know why I thought that.”
“Well, most people think that a biker Prez and the VP are old as balls. Tyrant’s young, and Raiden is the same age…”
“Oh my god! Your men are the President and Vice President of the club?” Scythe didn’t say that. Nothing like bringing out the big guns to meet me immediately.
“Don’t worry.” Lark clasps my upper arm lightly. “This isn’t some kind of initiation that you have to pass and it’s certainly not a test. We’re here because like the men have the club, we have our own sisterhood.”
“Scythe explained everything to Tyrant, and he talked to Raiden. Raiden asked me if I’d like to come over with Lark. The sisterhood doesn’t have a hierarchy, but as the Prez’s old lady, Lark feels responsible for trying to take the lead. Welcoming people to Hart is one of those things.”
“I hope that’s okay?” Lark asks tentatively. “We’re here to help, if we can. Or just offer friendship and company. Truly.”
“Scythe took Maverick to the club.” I can’t seem to stop speaking things out loud that are best left inside my head. “Is he in trouble for trying to help me?”
Lark glances at the bag of cookies on the counter, then at the kettle. “Why don’t we have some tea and we’ll talk. Scythe said he left out his famous chocolate chip cookies. I’m dying to have one.”
“He’s a great cook and an even better baker.” Ella laughs at the expression on my face. “I know. Most people wouldn’t think of it from a hardened biker, but people surprise you.”
“Of course.” My face goes scarlet. “I didn’t mean to assume anything. I don’t know anything about the club or how it works.” It’s a little bit ominous that they haven’t answered my question about Maverick either, and now I’ve embarrassed myself by getting caught in obvious stereotypes.
Me, of all people.
“We can answer your questions.” Ella guides me over to the table while Lark puts the kettle on and slides the cookies onto a plate.
“We should say that we do sort of know the basics, but this is secondhand. Scythe gave Tyrant just a rough outline, to help him understand. It’s not really club business, but Maverick is his cousin, and nothing is more important than family.
” Lark pours boiling water into three cups.
“Uh, sorry, what kind of tea does everyone want?” She swings open the cabinet closest to the sink and indicates a bunch of boxes.
“There’s pretty much every kind you could imagine. ”
“You pick,” Ella tells her.
“Uh- for me too.” I’m a coffee snob, but when it comes to tea, I know almost nothing.
“You have to help me out. What if I choose herbal and you hate it?”
To be on the safe side, I go with what I know. “Earl Grey?”
“Chai, if there’s any. I think that would be a good pairing with chocolate chip cookies,” Ella says.
Lark gets busy making it. She’s fast and has the three mugs prepped in no time. She brings them to the table for us and sets the platter of cookies in the middle.
It’s nearly unbelievable that I sat here this morning, going over the details of my life, flabbergasted that I could talk calmly about how much it had changed. Just yesterday I was sitting in my apartment. I had no idea that any of this was coming.
Despite the unbelievable chaos, it’s been the best day I’ve had in a long time. The fact that I’m here gives me real hope, and that’s been in unmercifully short supply.
“We know that you’ve been agoraphobic for a while now, and we know yours and Maverick’s history as pen pals.
When he got out and came to see you, he wanted to help.
Best intentions and all that.” Lark snatches a cookie off the platter.
“He didn’t plan all that well, but you’re here now and you’ve agreed to stay, at least for the short term. ”
“That’s… Um… I guess that’s right.” I swallow down a massive ball of nerves.
It’s somewhat of a relief that I don’t have to go over this again.
It would probably take hours to get it all out, and I just don’t know if I have the fortitude to do it right now.
“This whole situation is pretty crazy. I understand if you’re both—that is—if you’re not sure about this or about me. I’m not sure about any of it either.”