CHAPTER 13
I’m sure my men have things they could have been doing for the last few days, but they’ve been holed up at home with me. Thankfully, I don’t have a class to teach until tonight or any performances scheduled which means I was free to spend the time with them.
It’s been beyond wonderful. I’ve gotten to see behind what a person shows the outside world and to see the real person they are. Honestly, I’m amazed by my men.
And they are mine.
I might have been wary of the promises in their eyes at first, but I’m not anymore. They’ve shown me who they are.
I’ve gotten to see the sides of themselves that they hold in the shadows, the sides that most people would show the world. They don’t because they have to be strong for their club and do what needs to be done and must fill the roles and positions they have.
I get it. It’s kind of like when I’m on stage. People see what they want to see. I’m sure that they see a seductress, someone who has confidence for days without a single doubt marring their psyche. But that’s not who I am.
Sure, I am when I’m performing, but that’s only an act. It’s all a mirage for entertainment.
My men are much the same.
They are the Prez, VP, and enforcer for a motorcycle club, and they play those roles flawlessly.
I wouldn’t expect anything less from them.
But they’ve shown me more than that. I’ve gotten to know who they really are. I’ve fallen in love with who they are.
Yes, Spark, or Waylon as I now call him, is serious, but that’s because he has the weight of the club on his shoulders. He’s shown me a man who has joyful memories of growing up in the club, which taught him the meaning of family that isn’t always born of blood. He understands what it means to support someone else. He does it without even thinking about it because it’s simply part of who he is. He takes on their burdens and their pain and, thankfully, his shoulders are strong and broad enough to carry them.
Yes, Rites, my Chance, is a trickster, but he’s also a problem solver with loyalty so deep in his soul that I’m not even sure he’s aware it’s there anymore. He would walk through hellfire for those he loves and not think twice about it. Why would he when that is all he knows how to do? His serious side is just as sexy and alluring as the side of him that makes me laugh uncontrollably.
Yes, Crucify, who insists I call him Nico, is strong, which he has to be to keep the club and his family safe, but he has a soft side. It’s clear to see when he talks about his sister, Lake. There’s also a deep, painful wound inside of him because of the lack of warmth and love from his parents while he was growing up. The club saved him; his friends saved him.
I can relate to that kind of pain.
Not only have they shared themselves with me, their true selves which are so much deeper than the pleasure we can experience together, but who they are at their core. They are good men who have had to do things to make sure the sun can rise tomorrow and then set again when it’s time.
I don’t fear the blood on their hands. They didn’t try to hide the violence they dance with from me, and for that I am thankful. It would have been easy for them to try to downplay it, but they laid it out for me straight.
Which is why I told them about my life honestly. I could see the rage on their faces when I told them about the rhetoric drilled into me and how I struggled with loving my body and myself after I left home.
Then they loved every inch of me until I was twitching with pleasure and contentment. It was as if they were chasing away the evil snakes and sermons of my past. And they did a damn good job of it.
It probably hasn’t been nearly long enough for me to feel so deeply for them, but I do. I want them in my life forever and I want to be in theirs.
Even Spark, who struggled and made me doubt their intentions at first with his cold demeanor. Now I see what he was really guarding—himself.
I’ve fallen for them, head over heels, and the fact that they’ve claimed me speaks volumes. They want me. Not for one night. Not for a fling. They want forever.
The old ladies I met at the clubhouse told me how serious it is to be claimed. At the time I was a little jealous and didn’t fully understand why they were telling me about it. I didn’t think they were rubbing their status in my face, but it was hard to believe it was any different, either. Now I understand.
They also told me about the club angels and the thought of them flirting or trying to hit on my men made me see red. Thankfully, I didn’t have to rip anyone’s extensions out, but I kept an eye on the angels, that’s for damn sure.
I’m so wrapped up in the love bubble that we’ve ensconced ourselves in that I don’t think twice about answering the door with a big smile on my face when someone knocks. My smile immediately drops just as my heart breaks.
Because my parents are standing on my doorstep. How can I be happy when confronted by the demons of my past? I should have known it was time for them to show up and try to bring be back into the fold again. They never go all that long before trying.
That’s not what breaks my heart—I’m used to their crap—but the way submission and defeat wraps around my mom like a blanket is hard to see. She doesn’t look up at me even as I stare at her.
It’s such a shame because she’s a beautiful woman. But something is missing.
She doesn’t glow. She doesn’t sparkle. She holds no worth in herself and that makes me want to rage and destroy. It makes me want to be the destruction the men of our church always preached about.
But I know it would do no good. And that breaks my heart all over again.
I don’t even get the chance to say hello before my father bellows, “Enough of the disrespect and blasphemy you continue to show, Navy. You will go and pack your things. I’m taking you home. It’s time you meet the man I have ready to marry you.”
I gasp and take a step back into my home, even though everything in me wants to stand my ground. Sure, he’s come by and tried to cajole and threaten me into returning with him, but I had thought he had given up on marrying me off to some schlub years ago. I, clearly, was wrong. Honestly, I should have known better.
“No,” my voice wavers, a whisper on the wind when I want it to be a tempest. I force myself to look up into his eyes because I won’t be like mom and cower in front of him. “I won’t be packing a bag. I won’t be leaving my life. I sure as hell won’t be marrying anyone from your church,” I spit out the last word like it’s an abomination which is exactly what they always tried to make me feel like.
His face goes bright red in a single heartbeat and for the first time in my life I’m truly afraid of him. He was a man that firmly believed in the ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ outlook on having children and discipline. How could I have forgotten that?
I start to wheeze out panting breaths as I remember all the times he would spank me and punish me for just existing. I was always a good girl who listened, but the problem was, and always has been, that I’m a female which means my sin is inherent.
What did spanking me ever do? Would it change my gender? Would it make my curves disappear?
I hear the stomping of heavy feet as my men move closer to me and I almost breathe a sigh of relief, but I hold it back and I sure as hell don’t’ turn my back on a man who believe women are property to be traded and sold even if no money exchanges hands.
“You are my daughter, and it is my right to set up your marriage to a man who can handle you and show you your place,” his lip curls as he spits the words at me, clearly incensed.
I shake my head slowly, glancing at my mom and wishing I could break her free of her chains. I can’t; no matter how hard I wish.
But I broke free.
I found a new life.
I found worth in myself.
I found worth in my body.
I taught myself another way, a better way for me.
“No,” my voice cracks and I wish I could spew the same fire that he’s hurling at me. But some things are too deeply ingrained, and my knees feel weak from defying him this much; the fear is too almost suffocating. “It isn’t your right. I’m a person with free will. I’ve found my own life, and I will continue to live it,” my words are strong, but my voice is weak.
I hate it because I want to scream and rage. I want to be a banshee to his immovable mountain of belief that he thinks makes him untouchable, unquestionable.
I feel my men step up behind me, giving me their strength. Spark’s hands land on my hips and he gives a squeeze. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know who it is. I just know. I’ll always just know.
Dad narrows his eyes and I know the vitriol in his heart will be spewed all over my men. I won’t be able to shield them. But…then I remember who they are.
Spark.
Rites.
Crucify.
They will stand tall, and they will not bow. Because they wear leather cuts with the devil’s skull emblem, and they know real family, brotherhood, and love.
That knowledge is what has me straightening my spine as I watch the man who fathered me take in the scene before him. His eyes flash with a knowing that would have rocked me to my core if they weren’t at my back. Hatred. Pure fucking hatred lives within the man in front of me.
And what a shame it is.
“You will take your hands off my daughter,” he demands without knowing that it will fall on deaf ears. His gaze shifts to me and he booms, “You will go and pack a bag right now. You have been sinning with this scum, these evil men. You need to be cleansed before I can even think of presenting you to your future husband. You will be free of their taint.”
“No,” Rites barks and takes a step around me to shield me.
Crucify matches his movements. Spark pulls me back against his chest, a deep rumble like a hellhound’s warning vibrates my back and causes me to melt into him. My men. My protectors.
“You will forget that you ever had a daughter,” Rites states like it is gospel. Dad opens his mouth, but my man is not done. “You will forget she ever existed because as far as she is concerned, you will no longer exist for her after today. She is ours and you will not threaten her. You will not coerce her.”
Crucify takes a menacing step forward, his own growl sounding out in warning, “You will not hide behind scripture and the talk of sin. It’s all bullshit and you know it. You have gotten off on the power of making women feel small when they are the mothers of this earth and the keepers of our humanity. You are the sinner; you are the scourge.”
Mom’s head snaps up and she looks at my men before her eyes come to meet mine. I hope she can see the way I’m pleading for her to take a step forward and away from the man who has spent far too long keeping her down. A small smile tugs at her lips, but I see the resolve in her eyes. She won’t leave him, but pride shines upon me from her gaze.
It will have to be enough. She’s an adult who can make her own choices. Maybe, one day, she’ll make a different one. I can only hope.
“You will not come here again. Navy is our woman. She’s a Devil’s Saints old lady. She has a family who will support, protect, and love her until our dying breath. You will not darken her doorway again. If it makes you feel better to consider her dead, so be it, but we will know the truth and so will you,” Spark’s edict is final and whips toward my father and forces him to take a step back.
He almost stumbles backward down the stairs, and I watch as Mom stifles a gasp as he pulls her with him. As he turns to storm away, muttering about only God knows what, she gives me one more look.
But she follows him. And my heart shatters.
I don’t even realize that tears are streaming down my face until the door slams shut while I’m burrowed in Spark’s arms and my other men surround me. Their warmth stems the heartbreak and starts to mend my broken parts back together.
“If he comes near you again, if he threatens you, and damn sure if he tries to take you, I will kill him,” Spark makes a vow so solemn that it dries my tears.
“I love you,” my voice croaks and I look up into the faces of the men who have electrified my very being.
Their eyes soften and smiles grace their lips, different and the same because they hold so much love that I feel it flowing through me and wrapping me up.
“I love you,” Crucify whispers.
“Siren, there is no other choice but to love you,” Spark’s tone is serious, but warm.
“And love you forever,” Rites adds as his hazel eyes sparkle.
I throw myself at my men knowing they will catch me, knowing they always will. I never expected them to come into my life, but they did. Now, I can’t imagine a life without them.
Spark lifts me easily and he grunts at his brothers when they try to take me from him. My laughter rings out as I pat his chest. He’s still working on sharing, and I don’t mind one bit.
Because he is working on it and I have faith in him that he’ll master the feeling. How could a man so strong, so bound by love and duty, do anything less?
Now that love and duty includes me.
My thighs clench together as they carry me through my house and up to my room. “This place doesn’t feel safe anymore,” I admit as I look at the walls as we pass them by. “I don’t want to be anywhere he can find me again.”
“You’ll move into the clubhouse and into my suite,” Spark’s voice is gruff, and his crystal blue eyes bore into mine.
I arch an eyebrow in challenge, “What about my other men?”
He sighs and his shoulders slump after he kicks the door to my bedroom open. He grumbles, “They can move in too.”
Rites claps his hands, amusement in his voice, “About fucking time.”
When he starts to strip, I know what is about to happen. And I am here for it. I want to seal our promises, our hearts, in the sin I have always been told to avoid. But it’s not a sin.
It is what binds us. It is what fuels us. Love. Always love.
And there is no purer way to express our love than with pleasure. The hungry and predatory way my men are watching me promises lots of pleasure.
I can’t fucking wait.