Chapter 9 Brielle #4
As we enter, I feel his hand on the small of my back. “You may not agree with our ways, but I would like you to understand. This is a ceremony that brings individuals into our family. Not just any individuals, but those we can trust. It is a tradition that has withstood the test of time.”
I watch as Douglas shakes hands with different Adder members, the various Afton brothers, Lyle and Lloyd, Clint and Biscuit.
His face is alight with excitement and joy as he goes around the circle of bodies that surround the small fire in the middle of the barn.
A table at the far side is covered with spirits, a cake and small appetizers.
Everett leaves my side and joins the middle of the circle near the crackling fire. The flames dance as Everett calls for everyone’s attention.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the dedication of our brother Douglas! He has chosen to unite with our family. He has run countless shipments for us, fought off our enemies in the war and at home within Lockham. Tonight, we solidify his testament to our family and bring him into the Adder brotherhood. Douglas, will you please come and present the arm you’d like to have marked?
” After Everett states this, Douglas proudly walks forward, rolling up his sleeve and bearing his left forearm.
“Repeat after me,” Everett bellows.
And the ceremony begins.
“I vow to uphold my duties to my brothers.”
I vow to uphold my duties to my brothers.
“I vow loyalty.”
I vow loyalty.
“I vow resilience.”
I vow resilience.
“I vow malice and protection when my brothers require.”
I vow malice and protection when my brothers require.
“I vow death before dishonor.”
With that, everyone repeats in unison, Death before dishonor .
Chills run down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Everett approaches Douglas with a fire iron that holds the Adder insignia.
He lowers the red-hot instrument onto Douglas’s forearm, the sizzling flesh steaming as Douglas bites his lower lip, stifling any sound.
It makes my scar throb, though as I observe the ritual I find Douglas has a small smile peeking out from his features, his pride as palpable as a pulse.
I was wrong. This isn’t marking cattle; this is something more. Something I haven’t had the privilege of seeing, other than when my brother was alive—a sense of family, a sense of belonging.
After the ceremony, Everett and I share a long drive in his motorcar.
“Was it what you expected? The branding?” he asks in a matter-of-fact manner .
I look up to find his elbow leaning on the door, his hand perched on his temple as he stares out the window. His haunting amber eyes reflect in the windowpane.
“It wasn’t,” I reply. “I was wrong. This is something entirely different from what I gathered from the assumptions in my head. I’m sorry.”
He continues to look out the window. A long pause of silence envelopes the vehicle, and I wish I could reach inside his mind to find what he’s contemplating.
After three heartbeats, I muster the courage to release some information about my life.
“At first, I was against your ritual because a previous partner branded me. Everything was about control. He explained that he wanted me to live with my scars, so every day, for the rest of my life, when I peered down upon them, I would always be reminded of him. I wish I could have new skin, scrub it clean and erase all memories of the past.” I stop before I begin to tell too much, before I state anything that could damn me, have him deem me unfit, unworthy.
My mind begins to spiral as I long to take back the words I just spat out.
Fuck. I said too much. I shouldn’t have opened up .
All at once, my mind ceases to race and I feel something touch me.
My hand, resting within the space between us, is now accompanied by Everett’s hand.
Ever so gently, he rests his hand close to mine, grasping my middle and index fingers with three of his digits.
Peering up at him, I find he is still staring out the window, seeming to contemplate heavy thoughts.
His small gesture brings a smile to my face.
Subtle, yet comforting. As we pull up to my townhome, I find Everett rushing to open my door.
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, yeah?” I try to posit my statement jokingly but end up hurting my own feelings, anxiously wondering if that is exactly what he wants to do.
His amber eyes narrow. “Don’t do that. From this day forth, you don’t diminish yourself. Why on Earth would I want to get rid of you when I just found you?” His tone sends a chill down my spine.
“All right then,” I reply sheepishly.
Then he states, “Besides, I have a gift waiting inside.”
My facial features contort in a suspicious fashion. “Excuse me?”
He grabs my hand, leading me to the door. As I open it, I suddenly deflate .
I do not find any trace of a present or gift box in the foyer, nor in the living room or awaiting me on the staircase.
Just as I turn toward Everett questioningly, I hear the back door open and shut. Then Biscuit and something emerge from the kitchen. “What is that creature?” I ask, pointing at the large mammal sitting in my hallway next to Biscuit.
“That’s just Biscuit,” Everett dryly replies.
To which Biscuit appears offended. “Oi! I beg ya pardon, sir? I made sure your surprise was well-kept and ready for the missus. I ain’t no creature. Imma gentleman.” Biscuit grabs his leather suspenders and stands proudly with his round, five-foot stature.
“Seriously, what is that a malformed pig?” I outstretch both hands, studying the massive canine with stocky shoulders, a prominent, wrinkly forehead, a short snout and large jowls.
It is peering into my soul. I’m slightly concerned it might steal it, since it’s a ginger-colored canine, but maybe I have some hope, since it has a large white patch on his chest. It tilts its head, then snorts in my direction.
“Did you gift me a malformed pig?” I repeat, staring with disdain .
Everett chuckles under his breath. “How dare you, woman. This is a Dogue de Bordeaux, a special breed from France, and one of the only good things that comes from that country, other than pastries and wine. Besides, I figured you may like a companion.”
“What on Earth drew you to that conclusion?” I drawl, narrowing my eyes, feeling frustration line my features. “I don’t have time to take care of a pig!”
Everett moves in front of me, his large frame shadowing my frustration and causing prior tension to emerge from the pit of my stomach due to his close proximity.
“My dear dove, once this dog bonds with its owner, it is very loyal, especially toward female owners. It will rip out someone’s throat if they try to harm you.
They have a bite force of five hundred to six hundred PSI.
Biscuit is going to assist in caring for your dog-pig, as you are a shameful workaholic. ”
My teeth grit together as he continues.
“In addition, I’d like to make sure someone can protect you at all times, and unfortunately, I do not want my men—nor any man—to be looking at you for a prolonged period.
I may gouge their eyeballs out.” He emphasizes the last word, then turns to Biscuit and states, “Sorry, Biscuit, no hard feelings.”
Biscuit shrugs his shoulders. “S’all right, boss, wouldn’t expect anything less.”
I place my hands on my hips. “I’m naming it Pig.”
Biscuit muffles his own snort by clasping his hand over his mouth, as Everett leans into my ear and states, “Dove, you could name it Jesus. I just want you safe.” Unexpectedly, he kisses my forehead, then he and Biscuit exit my home.
Before Biscuit leaves, he leans into my space and states, “Told ya my other nickname was Trouble, missus.” Then he winks at me before exiting the building.
I stare at my new friend, Pig, as he snorts yet again in my direction.