Have you met the Oath Keepers MC yet?
Let me introduce you to Princess:
V IKING
Savage.
That’s what my mother called me growing up—a no good, filthy savage. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was right.
If finding an ounce of pleasure by causing others pain makes me one, then so be it. I’ll own that title because it’s true. I fucking love pulling the skin away from others’ flesh as they scream in agony.
I wish I could say that I haven’t always been this way, but that would be a lie. Not that I’m above lying; if anything, I’ll use it freely whenever it benefits me. For example, when I found this MC, I didn’t come by it with any good intentions.
Arriving tired and irritated, I was sent by an MC called The Widow Makers. They wanted me to take out some rival Oath Keeper member whose road name was Exterminator. I was told that he had murdered some important members from another club—The Southern Outlaws.
The few SO Members that were left alive warned me multiple times during our meeting about how Exterminator’s a ruthless killer, and I should watch him before making my move. Of course, I was planning on some recon; anyone who’s been paid to kill before knows that shit. If anything, I was overconfident. Had it been me sent on the run to eliminate the Southern Outlaws, none of them would have been left alive.
After scouting Exterminator for a few days, I showed up at the bar he’d visited every night. I figured if I got there early, I’d have the one up on him.
My plan started to go to shit when I got into it with another club. The members had gotten me down on the ground, and I was struggling. I can handle three okay, but more than three I have to work at it.
Three of them had been taking turns at kicking out my right knee and then, in the end, striking me in the back with a metal stool to get me to fall. Once I hit the floor, five guys were on me like fucking leeches. They were determined to teach me a lesson but too big of pussies to do it one-on-one.
Exterminator and his boys stumbled into the middle of it all and bailed my ass out. Why? I’ll most likely never know. They aren’t the friendly type to most, but for some reason chose to have my back.
He saved my life that night. I didn’t even know it was him until after it was too fucking late. Once a man saves your life, you don’t take his cash—no matter what amount is offered.
The brothers helped me out, putting me up for as long as I needed. They were clueless, not knowing that I had my own means to make it. In time, they opened up some and showed me a brotherhood that I didn’t know existed.
They aren’t like the other clubs I’d been around. The Nomads from the Oath Keepers MC were all about themselves, but also each other. They never acted individually, but whole like a team.
With time, I was offered a spot to ride with them. It was hands down the best decision I’ve ever made.
I’ve never admitted my true reasons for going to the bar that night and my brothers have never pried. Eventually, though, I know my dirty deeds will catch up to me; they’re always in the wind, riding my tail, waiting for me to fuck up and come barreling out.
The Nomads run differently than the rest of the clubs; we’re freer. We don’t belong to one Charter but float around to wherever we’re needed or feel like going. The regular clubs’ rules don’t necessarily apply to our group. We have a structure amongst us, but not as strict as the Charters. A few of the brothers like Texas a lot, so we end up spending most of our time here when we stop for a bit. Otherwise, we keep on the move, rarely staying at one place for too long.
Scot and Exterminator pretty much call the shots when it comes down to things; otherwise, we work more as a unit. Ironic since we don’t play well with others often. None of us own much; it makes it easier to travel.
We aren’t tied down by any women either. Scot had an Ol’ Lady at one point, but when she passed on, he went Nomad. That was before I was around, though. Exterminator and Nightmare don’t talk much about if they had an Ol’ Lady in the past or not.
I’m fairly young compared to them, so I’m all about playing the field when presented with getting my cock sucked. Pussy’s another thing entirely; it’s gotta be worth it for me to get in it.
Ex and Night are pretty tight with each other; they handle a lot of shit together. It’s not quite as excessive as Saint and Sinner; sometimes I wonder if they wipe each other’s asses with how close those two are. They seem to share everything—room, food, women; they don’t have any boundaries when it comes to the other.
Spider’s pretty quiet most of the time, and Ruger just likes to shoot the shit. All in all, we make up our small group and we’re each just fucked up enough to compliment the other.
Occasionally, we’ll get a full-time member who transfers over to us, but they never last. Men all bitch that they want freedom, but then many can’t handle the level of freedom that we have. We don’t follow your everyday lifestyle; we say fuck the bullshit and do what we want.
We have our unspoken set of rules amongst the group that we follow. The main ones being: We don’t rape women, we don’t kill anyone innocent, we always have each other’s backs, we never interrupt a fight unless someone feels we might die, and well, that’s pretty much it.
Nancy, the bartender, sets a tall draft in front of me as my ass hits the seat. Immediately taking a large swig, I down half of the refreshing beverage, parched from the Texas heat. Saving the rest for the next drink, my glass hits the top with a thud.
My brothers quickly follow and place their empty cups back on the counter. Feeling a little more relaxed as we all settle into our favorite shitty roadside bar. We always stop in when we’re visiting central Texas.
We just got back here; we were off on a run to California. The brothers and I were helping out the local Chapter here. They were having an issue with a notorious club known as the Iron Fists.
It all turned out to be a success, as we sat by and watched those fuckers burn to death. I enjoyed every minute of torching that ratty clubhouse with them locked inside. That’s what they get for fucking with the wrong crew. The Oath Keepers are well known for their loyalties when it comes to family, so this other club should have taken note. That’s their fuck up, though, and in the end, they paid the ultimate price with their lives.
No sweat off my back, though. I couldn’t give a fuck when it comes to killing scum. People around me thought I was a heartless bastard, and they’re probably right about that. I don’t have the guilty conscience eating me up inside like others get; I’ve seen too much and done too many things.
Taking a life is simple—almost poetic watching the life drain from their eyes. Why should I feel bad for removing them from a fucked-up world anyhow? No one ever saved me, so in a way, I’m doing them a favor.
“Ye good, laddie?” Scot gestures to my neck, and I nod with an irritated grunt.
Ares, the VP of the local Chapter, and I got into it the other day. The fight wasn’t anything serious, but he put his hands around my throat and left a mark. He was making Ex look bad in Church, and I wasn’t having it; no one needs to make my brothers or myself look incapable. If anything, we’re more than capable when it comes to handling things, and we should get more credit when it’s due.
“Yep, I’m straight. Don’t get it why they didn’t just let us settle it, though. Now shit’s unfinished, and I wanna have a turn to prove my point.”
“I’m guessin’ they put a stop to it, as it was their Church time. As for Ares, ye should just stick to yer own. No good will come from messing with the VP.”
“Oh, I can handle my own, trust.”
“Aye, I’m sure, but we’re the friendly type with ‘em. Let it be.”
Nodding, I drop it and take a drink of the crisp, cool liquid. I’ll be respectful to Scot, but damn sure believe I’ll have my turn with Ares again. He’s lucky I didn’t take my hatchet to him like I do the others. I kept it clean, only fighting with my fists; the club should’ve stayed out of it.
No wonder they needed our help on that California problem if that’s how they handle a little scrapping. Bunch of pussies!
Speaking of pussy, I could use some tonight and not the gash that was hanging around the clubhouse. Those bitches around there are a little too prim and proper for me. I need a naughty bitch, one who isn’t scared of getting dirty as I fill her up.
Saint and Sinner take the seats on the other side of me, sitting back and relaxing.
“Where’re you two coming from?” We all arrived here at the same time, but those two fuckers disappeared quickly.
Saint turns toward me, his light gray eyes meeting my gaze, with his full-on pretty boy looks. The man could be a fucking buff cover model for Abercrombie or some shit. Sinner looks similar, just the dark version, with his jet-black hair and charcoal-colored irises. I swear to God those fuckers are real brothers and don’t know it.
“We wanted our cocks sucked.” He shrugs and Sinner grins alongside him.
“Well fuck! I want my cock sucked too.” Grumbling, I scan the room, instantly stopping on some sexy blonde bitch talking up one of the skinny Prospects from the Oath Keepers.
She’s exactly what I need with those sultry lips, plump enough to wrap tightly around my dick and suck until her cheeks flush. I’d spray my load all over that flawless skin gracing her face.
Finishing the last of my drink, I stand and adjust myself; baby already has me getting full for her. Taking a deep eager breath, I swagger over toward the couple. Immediately turning toward the pissant Prospect, I snarl, “Thanks, newbie, but I’ll take her from here.”
Since when do Prospects chat up chicks? When I was prospecting, you shut the fuck up and were the last man on the totem pole to get any female attention.
His eyes grow wide, knowing he better back up, even though his forehead wrinkles in irritation. At least the cat’s smart enough to keep his damn mouth shut.
I turn to the blonde, ready to show her I’m the better choice, only to find she’s gone. Vanished like a goddamn ghost or some shit. Figures, she’s the first one in a while that I want to stick my cock in, and she disappears.
“Where’d she go, Prospect?” I growl, and he shrugs.
“I don’t know; I’d never seen her before. She was only in here a minute before you scared her off.”
“The fuck you trying to say?”
“Nothin’ man.” He puts his hands up and takes a step closer to his Prospect buddy.
He’s never going to get a full patch if he can’t show some balls. The Oath Keepers would not let a weakling in full-time.
“You see her again, you send her to me. Got it?”
“Yep.” He nods, and I take my seat again.