Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
One week later
Wilder
Leaning against the wall of Devon’s clubhouse, I watch as Marie speaks to Falicia, one of the sweet butts. My girl wasn’t enthused to find out a sweet butt is a club whore, but admitted some of them are nice.
Women are unfortunately catty at the best of times. The club whores tend to be territorial because they believe their pussies are the only things keeping a roof over their heads. While that’s true, they all know what they’re getting themselves into when they come here.
“Need anything, Wilder?” Elaine asks me, wiping down the counter of the bar. She is the house manager and keeps the club clean.
Devon despises the way some of the clubs can get disgusting with so many men living in them, so he hired someone to keep them in line. Elaine manages to do it in a way that doesn’t piss anyone off. She has a room here, keeps the place clean, and feeds everyone without having to fuck anyone.
In exchange, Devon pays her for her services and includes her room and board in her salary. It’s a smart way to go, and Elaine is a hard ass with a heart of gold.
“I’m good,” I admit. “Thank you though. I think we’re getting ready to head out soon. Will you keep an eye on Marie for me, please?”
While Devon has rolled out his version of the red carpet, it’s obvious to me he has an ulterior motive for getting us out here.
He throws a damn good party, and the first night we were here, the club had a barbecue that was incredible.
Unfortunately, Marie hasn’t been eating much, and will get an odd look on her face over the last couple of days before she runs for the bathroom to puke.
She threw up this morning as well, and I really don’t want to leave her while her body is going through this. A part of me wonders if she’s pregnant, but the heat breakthroughs make me think this is stress.
As President, I can’t stay behind, but I can insist that Storm or Ransom stay with her. I’m starting to regret that we fucked with her medication. That shit is unreliable on a good day because it’s off the black market.
Losing Lore means her body is constantly searching for him, and there will be a day when his scent fades from his clothing. The loss will feel like it’s happening all over again for all of us, and I’m not looking forward to that.
“Yes, I’ll look out for her,” Elaine murmurs. “Have you noticed that she’s not eating?”
“Yes, I have. Her stomach won’t let her appetite rise,” I admit. “We’re all grieving.”
Elaine stares at me suspiciously but nods anyway.
Devon wants Marie to see we’re normal people with a different set of rules, yet doesn’t realize that I don’t always follow club tenants.
One of those is to not tell the women and those not involved in the club anything.
I keep enough from my omega. If there’s something she needs to know, I’m going to fucking tell her.
Even the men in my chapter agree with this, and Arsenal is lumbering over to me now with anger on his face.
“Marie just ran out of the room. How much can someone who isn’t eating throw up?” he grumbles. “I know this ain’t none of my business, but don’t you think this is concerning?”
“I do,” I reply. “There’s a lot of things her body is doing to her right now. I’m fairly sure she’s going to go into heat soon. Marie insists she’ll be fine while we deal with Lyker’s club. I still want to get in and out as soon as possible.”
“I know we need to go for Lore and our safety, but the timing is fucked,” Arsenal breathes. “I’m starting to feel twitchy being in one place for so long, Prez. I know we need to get moving, but Marie’s not looking so hot.”
This is why we’re nomadic, despite my new permanent address.
The club has become possessive of my omega, though not in the typical sense. It’s more like she has brothers coming out of the woodwork worried about her, and it’s almost amusing that I’m getting glares every time Marie so much as winces after the motorcycle ride out here.
If you’re not used to time on the back of a bike, it’s natural for soreness to set in.
“Storm—”
“What about me?” he asks, stepping up to join us.
“I’m going to start calling you Wraith,” Arsenal grumbles.
“It’s your fault for not paying attention,” Storm mutters. “What are you huddled over here gossiping like old women for?”
Elaine snorts before moving away, and Storm remains unrepentant. She’s only in her mid forties, so he isn’t poking fun at her age.
“Marie’s not feeling great and we have to ride,” I mutter. “I need to make sure she’s got someone with her who can help her through her heat that I won’t want to murder afterward.”
Arsenal’s eyes open wide, and he turns around and walks right the fuck out of the building.
“Oh my god, he didn’t mean you!” Storm yells after him as I growl at the thought.
“I feel as if I keep leaving you behind the way Lore did, but we can’t leave Ransom with her,” I say, choosing to ignore Arsenal’s theatrics.
“Why the fuck not?” Ransom asks, his shit kickers loud as he walks over to us.
“Outside,” I grunt. “I don’t want our shit overheard by anyone.”
A few of the club girls look over in interest, and I bare teeth at them, forcing them to mind their own fucking business. I don’t want one of them saying something to Marie later that’ll be misunderstood.
Walking outside, I lead what’s left of my pack into a corner of the yard.
“Marie’s body is rioting right now,” I breathe. “I need to tell you something, Ransom, and you need to keep it to yourself.”
“Fuck,” Storm groans. “Please don’t punch me.”
“You two suck,” Ransom sighs. “What is it? I reserve the right to punch you, Storm.”
“Marie thinks she’s on heat suppressants and birth control but we switched them for placebos,” I explain, wincing. “We were in the dog house with her, and Lore was still alive. We planned to get her to forgive us, even if it meant breeding her into it.”
Ransom’s lips part before he rubs his face in thought. He’s completely clean shaven, and the hair on his head is cut close to his scalp. It’s a very different look than most of the men in the club have with their beards, but also means he has less hair to hide his emotions.
When Lore would grow his beard out, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His lips were hidden, which meant his only tell when he was lying was gone.
“You’re idiots,” he grunts. “I’m not saying seeing Marie barefoot and pregnant wouldn’t be incredible, but she’s not the type to stop moving unless something puts her on her ass. I can tell she’s not feeling well.”
“I don’t think she’s pregnant, not if she’s having heat symptoms,” I say, trying to be the voice of reason. “If she goes into heat, I don’t know if the first time you have sex with her should be while she’s without her other pack members when she’s out of her mind in pain.”
“Fuck me,” he groans.
“Your ass is fantastic and your abs are lickable, but no thank you,” I smirk.
Storm chuckles under his breath, but Ransom doesn’t think I’m amusing. Oh well. Can’t win them all.
“Since we’re in agreement,” I continue, even though we’ve agreed on nothing, “I think Storm is the best person to stay behind.”
“It’s really not a hardship,” Storm says. “Ransom, if you get my man killed, I will fuck your ass up with a rusty pipe.”
Ransom noticeably clenches his ass, looking appalled.
“Fucking Neanderthals,” he mutters. “Devon!”
“I’m not taking you back,” Devon says as he walks past. “Storm and your new Prez are not going to braid your hair, Ransom. Stop asking.”
The alpha pretends to gaze up as if he can see his buzzed head, frowning, and I roll my eyes in derision.
“We almost ready?” I call after Devon.
“Just waiting for you to decide what you want to do with your girl,” he replies. “If you’re that codependent on her, I’d say to just bring her.”
“If only it was that easy,” I grumble.
“I got her,” Storm promises. “I’ll download movies for us to watch in our cabin and have her try to sleep some of this off.”
There are little houses spread over several miles behind the clubhouse.
Devon bought it on a whim when he was just starting out since Lore told him to keep their father’s inheritance, which also included the club’s assets.
It was a good investment, up until a rival MC club decided to move in down the road from them.
The Reaping Marauders have been causing some of the issues that Lore was trying to help him with.
“Why are we wasting our time when that club already handled their shit?” Toad asks. He’s one of Callous’ men, and whenever I’m here, I struggle not to put him down permanently.
Toad has a big fucking mouth, and it irritates the fuck out of me.
“The club that killed my brother?” Devon asks, almost tripping in shock as he turns to face him.
Ah, fuck. Lore has warned his brother multiple times that he needs to handle his club through force. One day, Toad is going to get the old guard to rebel against Devon, and he’s going to have a bloody mess on his hands.
My hand sits on my gun as I watch Toad continue to yell at him. Devon eyes flick behind the man, but Toad doesn’t notice. That’s the only hint of the attack as a man I recognize as Martyr stabs him in his lower thigh.
“Fuck!” he yells.
“Maybe you need to learn how to speak to your president,” Martyr growls.
“Thanks for keeping me from shooting the asshole,” I grunt.
“Anytime,” Martyr murmurs. “I’m sorry I missed the funeral. Someone had to stay behind.”
“I get it,” I say. He’s been giving me remorseful glances all week.
I’m not one to give someone shit for doing what they have to do.
It also didn’t affect me. The funeral felt like a three ring circus, and a part of me is glad it’s over.
“That being said, is he coming with us, or are we finally throwing him off property.”
“You’re running this place into the ground,” Toad complains, hissing as Martyr takes back his knife and cleans it off on Toad’s jeans. “You go ahead and do your fool’s errand. I need a break from you assholes.”