41. Willow
41
WILLOW
Grace is completely unable to stand still. I give her a nudge. “Babe, you're making me nervous here.”
She looks at me like I'm an idiot. “Lo, I've never been the maid of honor in a biker wedding before. I don't know what to do!”
“And I've never been claimed as a biker's old lady, never mind three, but you don't see me dancing all over the place like a five-year-old that's got to pee.” I check myself in the mirror one more time.
I know more of what biker chicks typically wear now that I've been part of the club for a couple of months, but I still chose my own thing. A wedding dress didn't feel right at all, but the bikers wear their identity with them wherever they go, so I tried to find something that'd do the same for me.
In my case, as a writer, that means silky with a book theme. The top is corseted, but high enough that it exposes my midriff, looking like it's made from scrolls of cream-colored book paper. The black belt is plain leather, but then the skirt flares out around my legs, with more of the paper motif. It's like I'm getting hitched in a tornado of book pages. My earrings and belly button ring have little books on them, and the hair pin that keeps my updo in place looks like a fountain pen. And instead of heels, I have high heeled leather boots that are plain black with pretty silver ringlets with cream colored laces to match the outfit.
Kitschy? Yeah, sure, but I was raised by a couple of off-grid hippies after all. If I don't do something that's at least a little bit my own thing, what am I even doing?
I check myself in the mirror one more time. Is it a little bit much? Are they going to laugh? It took a lot of work to put together everything I needed.
“You look awesome,” Grace reassures me. “If anyone comes with a rude comment, they're going to have to fight me.”
I try to imagine Grace up against someone like Jackal or Crank, and I try very hard not to laugh, since she's being supportive.
Paige and Jess peek into the side room where I'm waiting to enter the church, both of them done up in cute skirts, tops and leather jackets.
“You look amazing,” Jess says excitedly. “I love it. I predict that your boys' jaws will hit the floor and then they're going to stand there impatiently while we go through the ceremony, and then we won't see you anymore tonight, as they've whisked you back to the house and are railing you for all they're worth.” She grins wide.
Paige nods. “Jess is right. You're definitely getting railed tonight.”
I glance over at Grace, who's trying to act like she’s not horrified by the frank talk. She knows I'm hitching myself to some bikers, but the outright crudeness around here is something she hasn't gotten used to yet even though I know full well what kinds of books she reads. Maybe if I just have her and Terry over often enough, they'll adjust. They might not even drive home when the shooting starts up here anymore. Probably not, but I guess that's okay.
Paige peeks out the door then back at me. “Alright, you're on. Your men are out there, and they're looking goooood.” She shakes her hand like it's hot.
That makes me even a little more self-conscious. But, no backing out now.
When I emerge from the hall leading to the old sacristy and Hellfire's office, I find them standing by the altar, together with Hellfire himself. Paige was right. Damn, they look good.
Dragon stands tall, his long hair neatly tied back. In biker fashion, in his leathers and jeans, but they're fresh and his leather jacket is newly oiled, gleaming inky black. Under, he wears a black T-shirt but it's got a silver dragon design on the front, vaguely reminiscent of the tattoo underneath. His leather boots are freshly polished and he's let a little bit of a beard grow in that's newly trimmed short. It looks great on him.
Next, Blackout has almost tamed his reddish-brown waves into something neat, but it's not being very cooperative. Just wild enough to make me want to dig my fingers into it and pull him in for a kiss, like I always do. His piercings gleam in the spotlight coming from above. He chose to go with his cut today rather than a full jacket, exposing his powerful arms, and all the gorgeous ink that covers them. I'm already dreaming of them around me for the consummation afterwards.
Because regardless of what Paige and Jess said about me looking good enough to rail, my boys are looking so good that I'm dragging them down to the house afterwards to rail me, no matter what they think. Not that I imagine many protests.
Skyhigh's beard is fuller than Dragon's, and wilder, but he's tamed it just a little bit, and his hair is newly cut short. His leather jacket is oiled and shining, and open, showing how the white shirt underneath stretches tight over his broad chest. Polished up, his boots gleam. One ride and they'll all be as dusty as usual, but I love how all three made the effort to look nice for me.
Jess was right, but that Dragon's jaw would be the first to hit the floor, I never would've believed. He looks at me like I just descended from the heavens, wings and halo and all, then nudges Blackout with his elbow. He and Skyhigh turn my way too. If this wasn't some kind of formal occasion, I would've laughed out loud the way all three of them follow me with their eyes while I approach.
Finally Skyhigh picks his jaw back up. “Holy fuck, you look amazing. Are those real pages? I wanna peel them off you one by one until there's nothing left.”
Now I wish they were real pages.
Blackout shakes his head like he can't believe his own eyes. “I knew you were fucking gorgeous, but you've outdone yourself today.” His hungry gaze drags down my body, all the way down to my boots and back up. If looking at someone could be sex, that look right there was it.
Dragon's the one that actually has the wherewithal to step over to me and put his hand at the small of my back, guiding me up onto the altar with them. The four of us stand together as Hellfire clears his throat.
I'd asked if there were any special vows or lines I needed to learn or anything like that, but apparently Hellfire will lead, and all I have to do is vow my life to my men. We had a long talk about what it means to become their property, about how it doesn’t make me a member, but gives me a more official place in their world. I can’t speak for every motorcycle club, but it’s something I’m willing to do for them and for the Outlaw Sons, and I suppose that’s what the point of making the promise is.
The church is packed with all the Outlaw Sons who could make it. Paige and Jess have taken up space with their men. Bonnie and Anne, who I'm just getting to know when she's here, are towards the back, all dressed up. Grace, of course, who's standing near me, is looking at the crowd like a deer caught in headlights. It's a good thing there isn't an actual maid of honor part of pledging to each other, because I don't think she'd be able to anyway. I nod my head in Terry's direction, and she skitters his way until he's got his arm around her waist. At least he looks more curious than shocked. Blaze and Ocean made it, standing in the back in outfits that will definitely get them laid afterwards. With the help they’ve given me, I insisted, even if these events are usually only for the club.
When someone's still talking in the back, Hellfire clears his throat again. They fall silent.
“This is getting to be fucking routine,” he starts. “But it’s always a celebration. I don't know what's in the fucking water lately, but—once again—a pretty young lady has somehow caught the eye of three of you bastards, and no one's killed anyone else. In fact, somehow it's fucking working, and now I have to pretend like this shit is normal while you all claim the same old lady, and she lays claim to you.”
There's some loose laughter in the crowd. Meanwhile, Grace and Terry's eyes are just getting bigger.
“There's still time to run,” Hellfire says directly to me, his dark eyes looking almost surprised that I haven't.
I shake my head with a little smile, and he nods.
“Fair enough. Brothers!” The way his voice snaps, Blackout, Dragon and Skyhigh straighten immediately. My men are fiercely independent, but Hellfire is their president. “You've caught the eye of a lovely woman, beautiful and smart—a fucking author even. Any of you fuckers ever even read a book? I expect you will now. It'll be good for you.” He pauses for a breath and to let it sink in. “That said, you fuckers are some of the most solid men I've ever had on my team. And no one here will ever forget how you defused an actual bomb right in front of the clubhouse. So while you should still do some reading, you're fucking heroes. All three of you, and I'm proud to have you in my club. That means you're gonna treat Willow like the heroes you are, and not ruin my impression of you as honorable men who'll risk everything for those you love, whether it's Willow, or the club and your brothers in it. I'm keeping an open door, and if anyone comes to me to tell me you're doing anything to disrespect the woman who's chosen you three to be her old men, we're gonna have words. Got it?”
All three nod. “Clear, sir.”
“Don't fucking call me sir. I hate it.”
“No, sir,” Skyhigh says, his lips quirking for just a moment before he finds his poker face.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hellfire mumbles. “Willow!”
“Yes, sir!” I straighten before I realize what I said. “Sorry.”
“The life of an old lady ain't easy. These men chose a dangerous life, and you chose them. It's not a life for everyone, as any old lady in here can tell you. Faith and Jessica on one side of it, Bonnie on the other. My boys are lucky that you've chosen them to be yours, but it's important that you know what you're coming to. I know that as soon as this ceremony's done, I probably won't see you folks until tomorrow at the earliest, but this life's no bed of roses. Shit happens, and I know you've already seen that.”
I nod, not sure if I'm supposed to say something.
Ghost comes carrying a black bundle that he hands to Hellfire, who then passes it over to Dragon. Dragon lets it unfold and holds it up. A leather biker jacket. Way too small for him, for sure. And then he turns it around, and I get a big lump in my throat.
In the middle of the back is the Outlaw Sons MC logo, the skull with the pistons crossed behind it. The top rocker, curved around the logo, says, “Property of,” and the bottom rocker, curved around the bottom, says, “Skyhigh, Dragon and Blackout.”
“By wearing this, Willow, you represent the Outlaw Sons MC, and you represent your men. You're expected to give both them and the club your full loyalty, always. By claiming you as their old lady, they'll be responsible for you as long as you bear their patches. Understand?”
I nod eagerly. The longer I spend with them, the harder it is to imagine a life without them. And the club is as much a part of them as they are of it. “I do.”
“Boys, claiming an old lady is fun, it's exciting, and it's a lot of fucking responsibility, and I need you to understand this. You protect her, respect her and fucking love her. If I hear even a rumor that this isn't the case, we're gonna have some serious words. And you're not gonna like it. She loves you, and you're gonna honor that. Let me hear you say it.”
“Yes, sir,” all three of them say.
“Fuck you, you and you,” Hellfire says to each of them in a row, pointing a finger just in case there was any doubt. “Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”
Yep, Paige and Jess were right. I barely get time to put my beautiful new club jacket on before I’m whisked off to start our new life together.
By getting railed.