Chapter 12
Rhylan
There’s a strict protocol regarding marriage in the MUR, and with it come steps a member must complete before they are given permission to proceed.
Not wanting to fuck anything up, I immediately set things in motion by reaching out to Axel, one of Dustin’s guards, who conducted a background check and investigation on our chosen women.
This first phase included a one-to-two-week shadowing period, during which he discreetly followed Dakota on her daily tasks to verify that she wasn’t engaging in any illicit activities that would conflict with our organization.
We may be men of the underground, but our women had to align with our values, and if they didn’t, they were either added to the list of potential targets or we were instructed to move on; neither option was ideal.
The downside of the private investigation being we had to ‘stay the fuck out of Axel’s way’, or he would terminate the application and automatically deny eligibility. Once denied, there were no second chances.
I’ve only ever heard of a handful of men having to part ways with a woman of their choosing.
Most of them didn’t even bother to find another, arguing that the process was too tedious and unrealistic.
But the few that did were all successful and are now happily married, claiming fate for fucking up the first time.
Although patience wasn't a virtue every man possessed, it paid to be picky from the start. If the prospective bride was found to be an unquestionably valid candidate for the MUR, the investigation ended, and a detailed report was submitted to Dustin for final approval.
Exactly eight days since my initial submission, I received my blessing, signed and sealed by the man himself.
Now all I needed to do was find the perfect moment, the right time to pop the question. Because, believe it or not, I was a man of tradition, and I wanted to see the light shine in her gorgeous eyes when she said yes.
Business was slow for Vortex, as expected. I wasn’t doing this for the money; I was doing it for her, and while Dakota’s studio primarily catered to women, I found that the vast majority of registered clients were men. No surprise there. Another reason why she shouldn’t view me as a threat.
As a member of the MUR, we weren’t expected to work forty-hour weeks; the revue always came first. So the limited schedule and facade of running a busy studio fit perfectly into my daily routine, and allowed me to keep an eye on my girl.
Holding back was easy when I knew I couldn’t have her. I mean, I could’ve—easily, but there were only so many lines that I’d cross in life, and ripping her heart out wasn’t one of them.
I bided my time for Dakota, and now, after burying myself between her thighs, I found myself resisting a magnetic pull that refused to give, only growing in intensity by the day.
When someone consumes every fiber of your being, a week of intentional avoidance feels more like a century.
“Distracted much?” Silas interrupted my thoughts with a grin. Kerosene didn’t open for a few hours, but we still had rehearsals and prep to cover before the doors were unlocked, so we were already getting dressed.
“You could say that,” I admitted, pulling my boots from the locker I’d been staring vacantly into, all thoughts centered around when and how I would approach Dakota next.
She might not have been a fan of me at the moment; however, I saw the way her eyes cataloged every inch of my body to memory that night. “But she’s worth it.”
“So I’ve been told. Lucky fuckin’ girl. Trent mentioned that she’s quite the spitfire.” Of course, Trent would’ve already told Silas about her.
“Is that all Trent told you?” I arched my brow in suspicion. Not like I gave a fuck if he knew everything or not. Hell, I’d tell him myself if he hadn’t. We were family after all.
“Eh,” Silas shrugged, lifting his hat off the hook on the adjacent wall from where we stood.
“He gave me bits and pieces of the picture, enough to know that you’re just as insane as I’ve always believed you to be, but nothing outside of that.
Why? Something else I should know about one of the future buckle-branded?
” The nickname we all agreed upon for the wives of Kerosene.
I shook my head in response to Silas, my cheeks hurting with an uncontrollable smile I failed to contain—imagining Dakota as one of the buckle-branded, all shiny and new.
The vision sent a flutter to the bottom of my stomach, my cock swelling with pride.
I’ve waited for this moment to become a reality for so fucking long.
“She’s a keeper. I’ll leave it at that.” But she was also so much fucking more.
“You two better not be starting this party without me! The three amigos, finally workin’ the same shift once again.” Trent pulled us in by our shoulders, heads knocking, and hats nearly falling to the floor from the rough movement. “And, not to mention, we’re celebratin’ tonight.”
“What for?” Silas and I asked in unison, the two of us looking at each other with confusion.
“Well, your girl is coming to the show this evening, of course. No need to thank me.” Trent gave a mischievous wink, and I just about lost my lunch on his shirt.
“She’s what?” I may have been in a slight state of shock. Stunned, actually, as to how he’d managed to get her to agree to come here without putting up a fight.
Not that I wouldn’t want Dakota to see me working here, a shirtless temptation dancing across the bar like a five-course meal, and I’ve seen the look she gave my studio every morning, that fire of hatred with an undertone of withheld lust. She couldn’t fool me, and this very well may be all the encouragement she needed to finally make a move of her own.
“I just figured I’d help you speed up the process.
Force that sassy little fireball to claim her Cowboy before someone else does.
” Not a chance in hell. As if I’d let just any buckle bunny have me.
“Besides, she can’t hate you forever, kid, not with a face like this.
” Trent teased as he gripped my jaw and rattled my head like I was his teenage son; borderline offensive.
Hijacked plans aside, I did want Dakota to come to me, and in all honesty, hoped she would’ve by now, even if it were out of spite.
“And what do you propose I do to make her want to claim me in front of a herd of bunnies?” I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head with the question. Without stating it outright, he made a valid point; she was resisting, and I knew she fucking was.
Releasing his hold on me, Trent glanced over at Silas, his smirk widening as he adjusted his hat, and they both gave a quick nod in agreement.
“Blowtorches.”