Chapter 3
Wraith
New dress shirt and suit jacket aside, I’m still a damn mess when I enter that hall and am forced to the front to stand beside Gage and Wing.
At least I got my puking over and done with.
Gage should have given it a try, because at the moment, he’s green as fuck.
Wing is a little calmer, though not by much.
Edge stalks up to the front before I have a chance to eyeball everyone in attendance.
One side for The Riders and their old ladies and children, another for Viking and his bastards, who, in a few short days, are going to officially be a part of our club—Jacksonville chapter, Helena will remain the OG.
It’s enough to induce another round of voluntary heaving.
Our VP stops in front of us three sorry looking fools who somehow got handpicked by our Prez for this.
Edge nods slowly. I can see relief in his eyes when they flick to me.
The shit storm that he caused by shacking up with Steel’s daughter has pretty much passed.
He left The Riders, only to be asked back.
He’s sporting his colors like a proud motherfucker.
His hair is slicked back, and he’s freshly shaved for the occasion.
He leans in, because Edge is Edge and he’s what I’d consider a friend, as well as a brother. “Don’t fuck this up. If you even think of running, I’ll tackle you to the fucking ground and drag you back here kicking and screaming like a little bitch.”
“What about the other two,” I say dryly. “You gonna give them the speech as well.”
“Was planning on it,” he nods. “Although Gage isn’t looking so hot. You should have told him to do his puking beforehand, not all over his bride.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same.”
Hearing his name, Gage leans in. He truly does look terrible, his skin ashen, a sheen of sweat shining on his brow. Edge sidesteps past me and claps the guy on the back. “Hang in there, son.”
It’s a little ridiculous hearing him call the guy that, because Edge is only six years older than Wing.
“Never thought I’d see the day you’d get married.” Edge turns back to me. “I guess this is the only way you’d find a willing bride. One who doesn’t know you and your smart mouth.”
“Doubt she’s willing,” I mutter. “Though any woman who ever met my mouth didn’t have much to complain about after.”
Edge leans in another inch and sniffs at me, ignoring the fact that I sweep my tongue over my lips pointedly. “Fuck. You stink. Didn’t anyone give you a bottle of mouthwash to rinse yourself out with after all that barfing?”
“Thanks so much, sweetheart. Didn’t know you wanted a kiss, but I’m touched by your concern.”
Edge rolls his eyes. He glances over his shoulder at the Olson bastard clan, then pulls a flask from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. All The Riders wore their patches to the hall. It doesn’t seem fair that us victims have to be victimized further with the stupid tuxes and shit.
“Down a mouthful of that. Maybe it will help that dragon living in your mouth. Or does your breath always smell like something curled up and died inside?”
“Well, now that you mention it…” my hand closes over the flask. “I did just pull out a dead rat last night. Fucking floss. Never reaches the hardest to get spots until it’s a little more liquefied.”
“I’m gonna pretend that I didn’t just hear that, you disgusting little, rotten ass shit.” Edge snatches the flask back after I take a long burning swallow. I love the fiery path it traces down my throat, how it warms my empty stomach almost instantly.
“What? Gonna haunt your dreams, princess?”
“Most definitely.” He passes the flask to Wing and Gage after me, who each take long, fortifying gulps.
“If you can take three bullets from my own hand, you can deal with this,” Edge throws over his shoulder as he takes his seat.
Steel and Leah are sitting in the front row.
Beside Leah is Harley, Edge’s old lady and Steel’s daughter.
He sits beside her and they exchange a look that I don’t understand.
I doubt anyone would. I don’t know anything about love.
Don’t really want to either, since it seems like a shitshow at the best of times, but the way the air snaps between them and the change that comes over Edge as he shifts to wrap his arm around Harley, is astounding.
I saw the guy go apeshit at the hospital when they wouldn’t let him back to see her.
I know he’d move heaven and hell to get to her.
Steel was worse, when my old club took his woman.
That was my doing, sort of. I didn’t know she was his.
Her father promised a bunch of shit he couldn’t deliver to my club and threatened all manner of shit if we didn’t do as he said.
But we ended up paying the price for it, anyway.
Not that any single one of us was any good.
At the time, I meant it when I said I’d prefer death over joining The Riders, but Steel had different plans for an ex-Prez of the club he’d slaughtered when we came between him and the woman he loved.
There was some other shit too, shit that made it necessary that our club be put down.
I’ve always understood that war is war and we declared it.
I’ve never blamed Steel or Edge for any of it.
The bastards assembled in this room, old and young, rough around the edges, it doesn’t matter. They’re the only family that I’ve ever known.
Steel is the same damn way. Not that loving Leah has really changed him, but he’s softer when she’s around. He sometimes has that same stupid love struck look on his face that Edge often does. Makes a guy want to barf all over again.
I don’t have any time to process what my stomach is doing, or what Gage and Wing are doing beside me, because at the moment, the back door to the hall opens and, without any music or nonsense frilly romantic shit, in walks the JP, a man in his late forties, or at least he looks to be, with a black binder tucked under his arm.
He’s wearing a suit with an actual fucking tie, so I know that has to be the guy.
It’s not him who steals my attention. It’s the three women trailing after him, like lambs about to be led to the slaughter.
Would have said virgins to a sacrifice, but everyone knows these three aren’t virgins.
They’ve been thorns in their father’s side and he’s happy to see them go, settled down, married, and tamed.
At least in his mind. They probably have other ideas about the matter.
There isn’t anything romantic about how those girls follow that JP up the makeshift aisle.
The hall isn’t very large, but Leah and the old ladies were in charge of setting things up and they made the damn aisle and even decorated with lights and paper flowers and whatnot.
I don’t see the point. This is more of a business transaction than it is an actual wedding.
The first girl, tall and light haired, takes her place right beside the JP. The girl after her, dark haired, shorter, and curvier, stands beside her sister and the youngest, not as tall as the blonde, but not shorter like the raven-haired girl, peels off to stand beside her sister.
There are a few snickers as everyone realizes that Wing’s bride is about four inches taller than him. Gage still looks like he’s going to vomit, so instead of focusing on them, my eyes sweep over those few feet, to the girl I’m going to call wife, right away.
I know nothing about her other than that her name is Leena. Steel let it slip that Leah said Leena was very pretty. Quiet. Nice. Words used to describe a person when one knows absolutely nothing about them.
Standing there though, as the JP starts to drone on, I openly stare at the girl, who has her head lowered.
Her long, auburn hair is curled in ringlets that trail down her back.
She’s slender, daintily built. Probably around five seven, which is just right.
She has those understated curves that look fucking amazing in clothing and even better out of them.
Long legs, a round ass and gently flared hips, perky tits.
Not sure why guys like big tits, fake or otherwise. Never been my thing.
Her head cranks up and she catches me openly appraising her.
Even though her cheeks flush, two red spots lighting up porcelain, flawless skin, she refuses to look away.
Her gaze meets mine, and it’s a color I can’t damn well describe.
Most people would call it hazel, but the painter in me wants to find just the right mix of greens, amber, and browns to do those eyes justice.
They’re fringed with thick lashes, set in a dainty face with a slender nose and high cheekbones.
She doesn’t have much makeup on, and if she had any lipstick, it’s been chewed away by the top teeth that are currently sunk into the plush bottom lip.
My cock nearly punches its way through my stupid slacks as I imagine those lips wrapped around my shaft.
Fuck, she’d look beautiful taking my dick down her throat, those gorgeous eyes welling up with tears at the effort, her cheeks pinked with effort and desire.
I wonder if her tongue is just as sweet as the rest of her.
What those dainty little hands currently fisted at the sides of an ivory lace dress, would look wrapped around the base of my shaft.
Or how her slender fingers would feel on my balls…
The room disappears as I imagine myself peeling off that lace dress, lifting up the hem to reveal shapely, creamy legs.
I imagine trailing my hand up her silky thigh, higher, bathing my fingers in the wetness that soaked through her panties before I rip them off, spread her wide, and feast on her sweet cunt.
And she’d definitely be sweet. Like overripe strawberries.
Those always were my favorite, not the bland tasting ones that everyone else always thought were just right.
“Wraith…”
Something sharp hits me in the ribs and I crash back into myself, into reality, a room filled up with my brothers, and hard men who are going to be some version of brothers.
To the disapproving, condescending man in the front row at the opposite side of the room, the balding, saggy man that those girls call father.
My eyes dart back to our side, The Riders’ side, and I meet Steel’s glance.
He stares at me before my eyes dart to Edge, who shakes his head at me like I’m the dumbest motherfucker on the planet.
“Mr. Hughes…” the JP says in that annoyed, pissed off kind of tone that informs a person that they weren’t fucking paying attention to a single word.
I realize that he’s talking to me. Waiting for me to say something. And that I’m also sporting a boner that is probably really fucking noticeable. In front of everyone.
I slam my hands into my pockets in a hurry and snap my head up. “Sorry. Can you repeat that?”
The JP’s face reddens, but he reads off a series of mind numbing, bullshit things I have to repeat.
God, if this shit is what passes for a wedding nowadays, no wonder they don’t last. I never saw the point.
Don’t believe in love, really, at least not for myself, and sure as hell don’t believe in some man standing there giving me some ancient words that are supposed to rule my life.
Rules, laws, words. None of that has ever meant a damn thing to me.
When I glance back at Leena’s face, though, and see her pretty little teeth sinking back down into her bottom lip again, and I realize how nervous she is, how she, and everyone else is waiting for my response.
I find my tongue moving, finding enough saliva in my bone dry mouth to make words.
I repeat them, stupid as they are, even the part where I have to say, I do.
And just like that, folks, is how you get your ass hitched.