Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
It feels good being here. Even after I’d caved and said to Griff I would come, there was a part of me that thought about bailing. But he’s right. I know these guys. If I hadn’t of turned up here, they would have just brought the party to Dads. Once they found out I was in Newcastle they all messaged me telling me to get my arse here.
The guys all hug me and give their condolences. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to cry. I’m not here to wallow, I’m here to catch up and to get my mind off my grandad.
Juggler pushes the other guys out of the way and pulls me into a tight hug.
“It’s good to see you, Flex,” he whispers into my ear, then kisses me gently on my cheek before pulling away and holding me at arm’s length. “You look fucking hot as hell babe.” He gives me his best come fuck me grin and I can’t help but smile. I let him lead me toward the bar, and some of the guys follow, but most head back to what they were doing.
Juggler pulls out a stool then grabs me by the waist and lifts me onto it. The low sound of a growl has me turning to my right. I raise an eyebrow when I see the guy who stormed out of the tattoo shop earlier. He’s huge, both in height and width. His hair is ruffled, clearly indicating that he’s been running his hands over it. His cognac brown eyes connect with mine and my stomach flips, this guy is hot, dangerous, but fuck me is he hot. He has a tattoo under his right eye, a three-letter word Ira in black ink.
I see the edges of his eyes crinkle, and realise he’s smiling at me. I give him one in return but his drops the moment Juggler places his arm around my shoulder and steps between us.
“Flex, have you met Wrath? He’s the Sergeant at Arms for our Manchester chapter. For now.”
I reach for the bottle of beer the prospect placed in front of me, and take a small sip, before nodding. “Yeah, we kinda met today at Griff’s studio.”
“Wait.” Juggler turns me to face him. “You got a new tattoo babe?” I don’t get a chance to answer, one of his guys yells for him to come over, he places a quick kiss on my cheek then takes off.
I’m not new to the clubhouse, I’ve been here a few times in the past with Griff and Juggler. Usually when there are parties going on so there are normally club whores kicking around. Normally, I’m comfortable when I’m here, but not tonight. I can feel Wrath’s eyes on me, his close proximity. It’s unnerving. I turn to face the room, looking for Griff or the ol’ ladies, someone I can go sit with. I spot Louise, Beetlejuice’s ol’ lady in the corner with a few of the other girls. I go to move off the chair, when Wrath’s hand shoots out, his fingers wrap around my wrist, and I jolt from the spark it generates. I look up at his face.
“Erm…”
“Please. Stay, have a drink with me.” His eyes flick between mine waiting for me to respond. I nod, as I lick my lips. His eyes drop to my mouth, tracking the movement of my tongue. I see him swallow; his desire clearly evident.
I lean back resting my elbows behind me on the top of the bar and angle my body slightly toward him and smile. He relaxes, slipping his foot between my legs and placing his foot on the bar at the bottom of the stool. I watch as he taps the bar twice and the prospect races over, bringing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He pours a short measure in each and then moves away to serve some of the other guys at the far end of the bar. Wrath holds out a glass to me, a look of challenge on his face. He’s testing me. I take the glass from him, and hold it out, he grabs his and raises it towards mine.
“To new friends.” Our glasses clink and his eyes stay on me as he watches me tip the glass to my lips and down the whiskey. I relish the feel of the liquid, the burn as it glides down my throat. Draining the glass, I place it on the bar then take a sip of my beer. Tilting my head a little my eyes focus on the tattoo on his face.
“So, new friend. You wanna tell me what that tattoo means?”
His eyes darken and he looks around the room. He’s watching his brothers. I watch as he takes a beat to focus on each one before moving onto the next, it’s like he’s checking each one is here. I wait for several minutes, the awkwardness growing between us the longer he stays quiet. I rack my brain trying to think of something to say, anything to change the subject when he turns back to me, his eyes have returned to their golden whiskey coloured brown they were before. He takes a sip of his drink, then rests the glass on the bar rolling it between his finger and thumb.
“It’s Latin for Wrath.”
He watches me gauging my reaction, I nod then turn back to face the room watching the brothers and the women mill about chatting and drinking. He leans into me, his mouth so close to my ear it sends shivers through my body. “I’d love to see how your new tattoo turned out.”