6. Shadow #2
“You earned this,” he says. “Not by following orders. Not by keeping your head down. By working fucking hard. For protecting what mattered when it counted. By putting your body between my sister and three men who wanted to hurt her.” He holds out the cut. “Welcome to the Sons of Ruin.”
I take it with hands that won’t stop shaking. Slide my arms through the sleeves. Feel the weight of it settle onto my shoulders — leather and patches and everything I’ve spent two years bleeding for.
The brothers close in. Backslaps, handshakes, Rogue’s arm around my shoulders and his voice in my ear saying “About fucking time, kid.” Diesel’s crushing grip. Lock’s silent nod. Ghost’s brief, rare smile.
But all I can really think about is Naomi.
When we leave the room, she’s standing in the doorway, waiting. Tears running down her face, watching me become what I’ve always wanted to be. I cross the room and pull her into my arms, and she’s laughing and crying at the same time, her face pressed against my neck, saying my name over and over.
“You did it,” she whispers. “You’re patched.”
I pull back just enough to look at her. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“You sap.” She laughs, wet and happy, and I kiss her right there in front of everyone. I don’t care. I’ve got the patch on my back and the woman I love in my arms, and nothing else matters.
Later, in her apartment — our apartment now — she pushes me down onto the bed and climbs on top of me.
“Careful,” I warn her, gesturing at my ribs. “Still healing.”
“Then lie still and let me do the work.”
She pulls her shirt over her head, reaches back to unhook her bra, and I stop thinking about my ribs entirely.
She’s gorgeous — flushed and eager, looking at me like I’m everything she’s ever wanted.
I reach for her, palms sliding up her thighs, but she catches my wrists and pins them to the mattress.
“I said lie still.”
She frees me from my jeans, wraps her hand around my cock, and I groan at the contact. She strokes me slow, watching my face, a wicked little smile playing at her lips. Then she rises up, positions herself over me, and sinks down inch by inch until I’m buried inside her.
She rides me slow at first, finding her rhythm, her hands braced on my chest. I grip her hips, guiding her, watching her face as pleasure builds. Her head falls back, lips parting, and the sounds she makes drive me out of my mind.
“Faster,” I manage. “God, Naomi, please—”
She moves faster. Harder. I thrust up to meet her, and she cries out, nails digging into my chest. The bed creaks beneath us. Nothing exists except her heat around me, the slick slide of our bodies, the way she clenches every time I hit that spot inside her.
“I’m close,” she gasps. “Shadow—”
I sit up, pulling her flush against my chest, and she wraps her arms around my neck. The new angle drives me deeper, and she sobs against my shoulder.
“Let go,” I tell her. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”
She shatters, crying my name, her whole body shaking. I follow her over the edge a heartbeat later, groaning into her neck, holding her so tight I’m not sure where I end and she begins.
After, we collapse together on the sheets. Her head on my chest, my arms around her, both of us breathing hard. My ribs ache. I don’t care.
“I love you,” she murmurs against my skin.
I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“I love you too.”
I’m finally a Sons of Ruin brother. I’ve got the girl I love. And for the first time in my life, I’ve found my place.
EPILOGUE
TWO MONTHS LATER
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Naomi’s hand finds mine as we walk up the path to King and Demi’s front door. I’m carrying a bottle of wine — Demi’s favorite, according to Naomi — and trying not to look like I’m about to face a firing squad.
“I’m not being ridiculous.”
“You’ve known my brother for two years. You’ve bled for him. You literally have his club’s patch on your back.” She squeezes my fingers. “It’s just dinner.”
“It’s not just dinner.” I stop at the bottom of the porch steps. “Two months ago, I was his prospect. He told me to do something, I did it. That was the dynamic. Now I’m supposed to sit across from him and make small talk while he passes me the potatoes?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
“He’s your brother.”
“I’m aware.”
“And I’m...” I struggle for the right word. “I’m the guy who was sneaking into your apartment. Who lied to him for weeks. Who—”
“Who took a knife for me.” Naomi steps closer, her hand coming up to rest on my chest. “Who earned his patch. Who my brother respects, even if he’d rather chew glass than admit it.” She rises on her toes and kisses me softly. “You’re family now. That’s what tonight is about.”
Family. The word still feels strange in my mouth. Foreign.
But I follow her up the steps anyway.
Demi answers the door with a warm smile and a hug for Naomi.
King is in the kitchen, pulling something from the oven. He looks up when we walk in, clocks me for a second — the instinctive assessment of a president. Then something shifts, and he just nods.
“Grab a seat. Food’s almost ready.”
Dinner is good. Demi made lasagna from her grandmother’s recipe, and the conversation flows easier than I expected. Naomi and Demi talk about the coffee shop, about Gracie’s baby. King and I talk about club business — a run next month, some property the club’s looking at.
Normal. Almost scarily normal.
Then King sets down his fork.
“Before we finish up, I want to say something.”
The table goes quiet. I feel Naomi tense beside me.
“About my sister,” King says, looking at Naomi. “And about you.” His gaze shifts to me.
Here it comes. I brace myself.
“Naomi, you scared the shit out of me when you left.” His voice is gruff, but there’s something raw underneath. “You ran off with some loser, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I spent two years waiting for a phone call telling me you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“King—” Naomi starts.
“Let me finish.” He holds up a hand. “You came home. That took guts. And you came home different — stronger. I’m proud of you.”
Naomi’s eyes are shining.
King turns to me, and I stop breathing.
“You lied to me. Snuck around behind my back.” His eyes are hard. “You also took a knife protecting my sister. Fought three men when you could have run. Bled all over her floor keeping her safe.” He pauses. “And you make her happy. I can see it.”
I don’t know what to say. So I don’t say anything.
“But If you ever hurt her,” King says, his voice dropping, “I will make you wish you’d never—”
Under the table, Demi’s foot connects with his shin. Hard.
“Ow! What the—”
“Wrap it up,” Demi says sweetly. “With the nice part.”
King glares at his wife, then sighs. When he looks back at me, something in his expression has softened.
“Welcome to the family,” he says. “Don’t make me regret it.”
I feel Naomi’s hand find mine under the table. Feel her squeeze tight.
“I won’t,” I tell him. And I mean it.
Later, after dessert, after Demi and Naomi have disappeared into the kitchen laughing about something I’ll never understand, I look around the table at the remains of the meal. The empty wine glasses. The scattered crumbs. The candles burning low.
I think about the kid I was. The prospect I became. The man I’m still learning to be.
I never had a family. Never had anyone who stuck around when things got hard.
Now I have a brother who threatened me and welcomed me in the same breath. A sister-in-law who kicks him under the table when he gets too intense. A woman who chose me when she didn’t have to.
A place at the table.
A family.