Chapter 5 #2
“Storm…” I allow them to hear my uncertainty, because I’m not sure what the etiquette is. This is a funeral, and it’s not about me. I don’t want to be a problem or make the wrong move. There’s too much about their world I don’t understand.
“Wear the jacket, if only because it’ll give you protection,” he growls. “I’m planning to ride in the middle of the group to keep you hidden as well. I don’t expect trouble, but…”
“It could still find us,” I finish. “I need to take off my raincoat. There’s no way for me to move my arms otherwise with how weighed down I feel.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Ransom admits, picking the leather jacket up so I can pull off my raincoat.
It takes a little effort because it feels as if it’s molded to my skin, and I’m breathing a little heavily by the time I’m done.
“You need to up your exercise routine if a raincoat is gonna take you out,” he says, amused as he takes the raincoat from me and plops the leather coat on my shoulders. “I’ll put this away so you don’t have to get up. Your dress is holding on by a thread.”
“Ugh, the dress is fine,” I grumble. “You’re going to make me self conscious about it.”
Sighing, I halfheartedly fix my dress, knowing the knot Storm made along the side of it isn’t coming out unless he wants it to.
“I hate when women pretend not to know they’re gorgeous,” Ransom mutters, turning away.
“Hey!” Storm barks, turning to face him. “She’s not fucking pretending. Leave her be. Marie, it’s a little flash of leg. If anything, your tits make me want to motorboat them.”
His words manage to do what nothing else has, and I laugh. It’s loud and tinkly, a stark difference to the dark clouds above us.
“This is what happens when this is your only black dress,” I say, threading my arms into the sleeves of the jacket. “My belongings are still pretty slim.”
“Are you a retail therapy kind of girl?” Storm asks, dropping his head back to get closer to me.
If this bike wasn’t so heavy, he’d topple us over. Instead, I sit primly behind him as I shrug.
“Wait. What happened to your stuff?” Ransom asks, taking a half step back toward us.
“Bikers happened,” I reply, dropping the visor on my helmet in my own form of a mic drop.
“Cryptic. That’s perfect,” he grumbles, walking away. He’s a big guy, so it’s more of a swagger than a walk.
“Have I been mean to you recently, Kitty? Are you trying to get my ass kicked?” Storm asks.
“You haven’t been mean today,” I purr, enjoying the way Storm makes a face at me before sitting up.
The sounds of engines grow louder as people get ready to leave, and I wrap my arms tighter around Storm as he walks the bike into position.
There’s an assortment of half helmets and face coverings around me.
The hearse in this instance is behind all the bikes, and I realize there’s not a police escort.
I suppose they may not want to be involved with this, even if it is a funeral procession.
Devon and Wilder are at the front, with everyone else following behind. As promised, it’s a short ride, and the warmth of Ransom’s body left behind inside of his jacket keeps me warm. There’s an odd feeling that says he’s important, and I wonder if Storm can feel it too.
I hope the universe can find a way to throw less surprises at me, because I’m about at my limit.
Even though the procession moves slowly through the busier roads, the wind still tears at my clothes. I’m frozen by the time we get to the cemetery, a victim of Minnesota’s tumultuous weather. Fall is raising her head up and reminding me that soon, the last of summer will be gone.
Wilder is waiting to help me up from the back of Storm’s bike, and he frowns as he sees my teeth chattering when I pull off my helmet.
“I’ll thaw out,” I tease him, despite feeling a bit miserable.
“Fix her dress for me, Prez?” Storm asks, turning off of the bike and taking my helmet.
Wilder squats down to untie my dress, making sure to shake the material out so it’ll drape appropriately. Standing, he frowns harder when he sees the unfamiliar jacket.
“I’d take it off, but I may turn into a popsicle,” I warn him.
“That’s not necessary, this is just…confusing,” he mutters.
He threads his fingers through mine before tugging me into walking beside him. Storm falls in line on the other side of me, and we walk up the hill to where the funeral plots wait for us.
The clubs stand together as we watch the caskets get lowered down, and as luck would have it, the sky decides to open up again. My previously curled hair begins to get plastered with rain, and the only thing I have going for me is my waterproof makeup.
Wilder pulls me tighter against his body, but I’m shivering pretty hard by the end of the funerals.
“We’d usually invite everyone back to the club house to get drunk, but that’s not going to happen today,” Storm says softly against the shell of my ear.
I nod weakly, shuddering as a full body shiver hits me.
“We’re going home. Everyone’s paid their respects, and Wilder has given our men their marching orders. ”
“O…kkkay,” I chatter.
“Goddamnit, baby,” Storm grunts, pulling me away from Wilder to lift me into a bridal carry. “Next time, you can ride in the fucking cage.”
Burying my face in his neck for comfort and warmth, I don’t bother to tell him that it was kind of nice to ride with him. If it wasn’t raining, I’d have enjoyed the camaraderie of the procession more.
“Can I speak to the princess before you whisk her away?” Devon asks, striding up to us.
Gazing at him from underneath wet lashes as I lay my head on Storm’s shoulder, I purse my lips with disgust.
“If you’re not currently buried in this cemetery, then you can’t call me by your brother’s pet name for me,” I say. “What’s so important that you have to keep me in the rain?”
“How did he fucking handle you?” he asks, staring at me as if I’m a puzzle for him to solve.
“As I’m an omega and not a pet, the answer is that I can’t be tamed,” I sigh. Waving my hand impatiently for him to continue, I lean into the misplaced royalty the club insists on calling me. “My relationship with your brother isn’t something I’m going to discuss with you. What do you want?”
Devon growls at me, and guns are drawn as people begin to see who’s speaking to me. It’s nice to have weapons pulled for my safety instead of to threaten me for a change.
“I’m not doing anything!” he yells, annoyed. “It does seem that your ‘little queen’ is a fucking whore though. Ransom is requesting to transfer to your club. He says there’s a claim he needs to settle with her.”
My heart flip flops at his words, and I whisper a silent apology to Wilder and Storm. It seems I manage to fuck things up, even when the intent is simply to ensure I won’t freeze to death. Next time, I’ll just make the concession to become a frozen omega.
This doesn’t feel fair to them.
A knife flies in Devon’s direction, and he leans back to avoid it.
“Did he say what the claim is?” Wilder asks. I didn’t hear him come over here, and I decide the bells are definitely happening. Fuck, my blood pressure is so high, I can feel the rushing of my pulse in my ears. “Also, why isn’t he speaking to me instead? Does he have to hide behind his president?”
“He’s currently tying up some loose ends,” Devon explains.
It’s then that I hear the sound of a motorcycle driving away and I can feel tears begin to threaten to fall. It almost feels like when Lore, Wilder, and Storm drove away from me on the highway, but Ransom isn’t my scent match.
“Shit,” I whisper, the word guttural and almost unrecognizable.
“In my experience, running away from your scent match isn’t a good life choice,” Storm says.
“He’s not my scent match,” I say, sucking in a breath. “I’m just not sure what this means. It feels like my heart is being ripped out again.”
Devon studies me before dropping his head back to swallow back a scream.
“You’re one of the most complicated people I’ve ever fucking met,” he complains, his eyes dropping back to me. “How the fuck do you manage to get into these situations?”
“Just lucky, I suppose.”
My voice is raspy and fucked from unspent emotions. I think I may finally be hitting my wall, and Devon’s shoulders drop in defeat as he recognizes it.
“He’s not leaving you,” he finally says. “Ransom went to do something for me. Wilder, do you accept the transfer?”
“Yeah,” Wilder grunts. “I don’t have much of a choice at the moment.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t do that, Marie. I didn’t mean anything by it. If he’s yours, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he says. “I’m not going to fight this transfer, because it won’t do anything but hurt you, which I refuse to do.”
“Marie, you don’t understand anything about this world,” Devon says. “Here’s some unsolicited advice and an invitation. Come to Galesburg and stay at my clubhouse. We have actual houses for families, and I’ll make sure the guys are on their best behavior.”
“So no wild parties where you indiscriminately fuck women?” I snort.
“That’s not far off from the truth, so don’t lie to her,” Storm says carefully.
“That’s only part of what happens in an MC,” Devon groans. “Everything about us seems to scare you. How the fuck are you going to build a life with Storm and Wilder if you’re like this?”
“I already have a big brother, thank you very much,” I say primly. “Even though he’s an asshole, he’s a much better person than you are.”
“Again, you don’t know,” he says, not pretending to feel hurt by my words.
“We’re just about the same age. I’m not going to pretend to be any good at this big brother shit, because I have no practice at it.
Take a week off, come up to the clubhouse, and really figure out what we’re about.
Lore and I grew up in this world. It’s not perfect, but nothing really is. ”
Blowing out a breath, I glance at Wilder.
“I have business out that way,” he admits. “It would be nice to have you nearby. I’m not going to sway you either way though.”
“Rude,” I grumble. “I’ll come. However, I’m not traveling anywhere right this second.”
“We’re not leaving till the morning,” Devon says. “It’s too fucking wet, and it’s been a day.”
“Okay. I want to go home and take a bubble bath. I’m frozen.”
“By all means, Prin…fuck. Marie,” he curses.
“It’s nice to know I’ve crawled so far up your ass that I’m now a curse word,” I say, smirking as he flicks me off.
“That’s enough of that,” Storm says, walking away. “Henry!”
The older man turns as he approaches his car, watching as Storm heads in his direction. A couple of minutes later, I’m wrapped in a blanket, with the heater blowing in Henry’s truck, while he drives me home.
“I’m not part of this life either, but I’m a pretty good source of information,” Henry says gently as I sigh heavily for the third time in succession.
“I’m a fish out of water here. I keep getting the feeling that I’m one step away from really messing up.” I explain.
“Depending on the situation, I suppose that’s possible,” Henry admits. “All you can do is learn what you can, and ask questions when you don’t understand something.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing,” I admit. “Lore and Devon act so differently. I’d never believe they’re brothers if I wasn’t told that.”
“I heard a few things while sitting in the church today. Everyone is a gossip if given the opportunity, and bikers are not the exception. Lore and Devon are half brothers. Their mothers aren’t in the picture, and are simply people their father got knocked up.
Lore changed his last name when his dad died, created a new chapter, and pulled up stakes,” Henry says.
“Sometimes, your story simply needs to be rewritten until you’re happy with it.
Color outside of the lines, Marie. Force the world to accept it.
Who the fuck cares, as long as you’re not hurting anyone? ”
His words remain with me for longer than I care to admit, but they are exactly what I need.