Chapter Twenty-Three
SIENNA
After Axel and I take turns cleaning up in the bathroom, we sink back into bed, my body exhausted from the workout with Kinsey and the post-double-orgasm haze courtesy of Axel’s talented mouth. I’m exhausted, but my brain hasn’t turned off.
“Axel?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Will you hold me?” I ask hesitantly. Axel releases a long breath.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been dying to hold you since the moment I met you; I was just waiting for you to ask.
” My heart swoops at his reply, butterflies taking flight and stealing my breath away.
Axel shifts, rolling onto his side and grabbing my hip, his hand warm against my skin.
He drags me to the middle of the bed, pulling my ass into his crotch, his chest flush against my back.
I’m enveloped in warmth, and I sink right into his comforting heat.
It feels too good to be physically connected with him in every way I’ve experienced so far.
I think about what it felt like to be on my knees in front of him, being the one in control, making him lose his mind.
It didn’t feel weak at all. It felt incredible, like the greatest high.
This big, powerful biker was shaking and delirious because of me.
I was the reason he was feeling so good.
He’s right, it’s not weakness at all, it’s not submission, it was me finally making a choice to take something I wanted, and it feels incredible. Now I just want more of it.
I run my fingers over the tattoos on his hand, tracing them down his veiny forearm. The black ink swirls from roses and vines to a one-eyed crow, ending at a hound with Devil horns. They’re each intricately and expertly done, and I can’t stop looking at them.
“Who did all your tattoos?”
“Rogue. He owns a tattoo shop in Aspen Ridge called Rogue Tattoo, but he learned here when he was young.”
“He’s talented.”
“Very. Did Kinsey show you hers?”
“No, but maybe I’ll ask her.”
“He also did all of Sin’s, but it’s taken like a fuckin’ decade to get his done because he’s a big baby. Hates needles. He’s got Bristol’s name tattooed right over his heart.”
“Oh wow. That’s commitment, I suppose,” I laugh.
“He got it the day he met her, Sienna. I guess when you know, you know.”
Yeah. So they say.
I pull Axel’s arm closer, threading my fingers through his, breathing in the woodsy, citrus scent of his skin.
Sleep doesn’t elude me, there’s no fear to push away, no anxiety, or negative thoughts, just .
. . peace and comfort. I sink into it, letting it cradle me in a way I’ve craved for longer than I can remember.
Sleep claims me, but it’s the safety of Axel’s arms that ease me into it, reminding me that I’ve got someone right here who has my back.
With no news from Saint today, I thought I could convince Axel to stay locked up in his bedroom for hours, just the two of us.
But Crew had other plans. Which is how I ended up sitting at the bar with Monroe and Axel, while Crew bleaches my roots.
I was completely comfortable doing it myself, as I’ve been doing it for years now without any help, but Axel let it slip while grabbing us breakfast at the café in town, and Crew assumed it was going to be a hair dye party.
He’s a little odd, goofy, but you can tell he’s just as lethal as everyone else, and he’s endearing.
I can see why Monroe fell for him. Even if they seem starkly different.
Everyone at the clubhouse is nice, welcoming, and they’re absolutely nothing like I assumed all of them to be.
I don’t even think my dad’s club was this laid-back and family-oriented.
They all literally do everything together, with everyone jumping in to help when needed, joking, and having each other’s backs.
It’s similar to what my brother has with Lincoln and Gage, but on a smaller scale.
Crew stands in front of me with the bottles of hair bleach like he’s about to perform emergency surgery. He took off his leather cut, leaving him in just a pair of tight leather pants, which made Axel growl like a beast.
Crew snaps a glove dramatically at his wrist, and nerves take over. I have to remind myself that this is my choice, and that letting him touch my hair is completely fine and normal.
“Alright. Before we begin, I just want it officially documented that I knew you weren’t a natural blonde, just like me. Secretary Wrath, make it known!”
“What do you mean make it known, you jackass?”
“I don’t know. Do what club secretaries do. Make it known! Put it in your notes!”
“This isn’t a meeting, Mal, I’m not taking notes.”
“Well, how will it be documented, then? It needs to be official.”
“We’ll all remember. You were the first to notice.”
“Aha! Thank you, good sir! Now we can continue! Sienna!” he says with a flourish of his hand. He’s absolutely absurd, but in a jester kind of way? He’s amusing, and I feel lighter every moment that passes.
“So, you mean to tell me that this gorgeous shade doesn’t just emerge naturally from your scalp like a Disney Princess?” Monroe asks with a wink.
“It does not.” It’s artificial and fake to mask the color hiding beneath it, the beautiful burnt red that reminds me of a time that no longer exists . . . and of my mother.
Malice moves behind me, sectioning off my hair with the confidence of a man who watched exactly three tutorial videos on YouTube with Monroe before he got started. Then he mixes the developer cream in the squirt bottle and starts to shake vigorously.
“How long do I need to shake this hair bleach juice for?”
“Mal, that’s not what it’s called,” Axel tells him, covering his smile with his hand. God he’s handsome.
“Terminology is flexible in the arts. I’m basically an artist now.” Monroe and I look at each other for point-one second before we burst into laughter. Malice returns behind me, getting to work, completely unfazed, and I don’t know if I should be excited or very afraid.
“Here we observe the rare fake blonde in her natural habitat,” he says in a very terrible attempt at a British accent as he starts squeezing the liquid into my hair.
“Farewell pretty red roots, it’s time for you to go bye-bye.
” Then he really gets to work. “You’re doing me next.
This is the color of my dreams. We’re going to match. Like twins. Speaking of twins—”
“Mal, shut the fuck up,” Axel snaps.
“Rude! You are very rude, sir. Annnnnyway,” he draws out.
“Speaking of twins, ask Axel sometime about how he got food poisoning recently. I did not. I came out unscathed. It was a miracle! I asked Maggie if mine was safe from her,” Crew leans down, his head next to my ear.
I jerk away slightly, but he whispers anyway.
“Secret sauce, and it turns out it was! Only Wrathy-boy here got it, and boy was he sick.”
I look at Axel, my brows rising, but he shakes his head.
“Not a proud moment. Don’t want to relive it. A story for another day,” he replies.
“Well, Crew may have dodged the bullet when it comes to food poisoning, but he did not avoid the sexual harassment he got from my grandmother and her friends when I took him bowling,” Monroe chimes in, her blush-pink hair dancing around her chin as she laughs.
“What? You’re kidding!” I gasp, chuckling slightly. Crew moves my head side to side, the cool formula sticking to my head as he drags it down my long length.
“Nope,” she says, popping the “p.” “It was a good time, but they’re insufferable old biddies, and they really enjoyed their free eye candy.”
They all take turns telling stories while Crew focuses on my hair. When he’s finished, he plops down in the seat next to me, handing the bottle over to Monroe, who just put gloves on.
“I’m going to look so distinguished,” he announces.
“You murder people, Mal. There’s nothing distinguished about that.”
“Details, details, my fine friend. I may ditch the leather and start wearing a suit and tie, no shirt.”
“No shirt with the tie?” I ask with a little laugh.
“Shirts are for kids and old people. I am neither. I only wear pants because Chaos has a pants-on rule when not in my room.”
“Wait, did you not wear pants before?” I ask, dumbfounded. Axel laughs and shakes his head.
“Buck-ass naked, all the time. He’s the reason there’s a pants-on rule now.”
“There’s a no flaccid penis rule, too,” Malice adds, face completely sober.
“Also because of you,” Axel adds.
“Yeah, but you get to have your monster cock out, and I thought I could have mine out, too.”
“You can, buddy. Just not flaccid.”
My eyes are wide, a huge smile on my face as the two of them banter and joke back and forth, Monroe quickly getting the leftover bleach into Crew’s hair.
Every preconceived notion I had of this place has gone completely out the window.
The Hell’s Heathens MC and clubhouse are the exception to everything I thought and believed.
After a little bit, Axel guides me to the bathroom, helping me wash out the bleach.
He’s so sweet about it, meticulous, taking his time to massage it into my scalp, using the faucet attachment to make sure he gets it all out.
After we’re finished, I use Axel’s blow dryer, choosing not to plait it off to the side for now.
There’s a knock on Axel’s bedroom door, and he steps out to get it. While I have a few seconds to myself, I look at the deep, marred flesh over my neck, jaw, and collarbone, but I don’t shrink away from it. Battle wounds. Proof I survived. Maybe I’m going to be okay after all.
I join Axel in the bedroom, finding Crew standing in the doorway, his freshly bleached and dried locks styled and sticking up straight and wild.
“Thank you, Crew. I feel much better. I appreciate it.”
“You look great! I knew deep down I was an artist. Maybe I’ll take this up full-time. Rogue does tattoos for everyone, and maybe I can do their hair now, too.”
“You’d be good at it. It looks good.”
“Still not natural though,” he teases, and this time, instead of cringing and wilting away for being called out about it, I lean into it and laugh.
“Still not natural.”
“Maybe someday. When you’re ready.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Hopefully someday.