Page 2 of Raiden

Tired of being on display and putting on a hardexterior, I head over to the bar in the corner.

Crow, a huge man dressed all in black with long black hair and a beard he must dye to match the unnatural shade, stares me down as the crowd parts to let me through. He grunts at me.

I nearly roll my eyes but decide to play nice. “If that’s code for ‘whattre ya’ havin,’ a gin and tonic would be nice.”

His lips pull back in a mean grin. It’s adorable that he thinks he can intimidate me, these choir boys have nothing on my father’s men. “Got gin, but no tonic.”

Oh. He’s confusing an MC princess with a regular prissy one. I smile sweetly at him. “Then I’ll have what everyone else is having.”

He pours two fingers of whiskey into a glass and shoves the tumbler across the bar’s beat up surface. Not beat up enough. Everything in this place is so well cared for. It’s like they’re just pretending at being bikers until they go back to their real jobs.

I can see why this place stifled my father.

I shoot back the contents of the glass and let the burn travel down my throat. It’s smoother than the cheap whiskey at my father’s clubhouse. Expensive. My eyes don’t so much as water. I’m thirty-three years old and I’ve been drinking long enough to appreciate a good craft.

“Another?”

I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “Why not?”

Crow pours me half a glass this time and if he expects I’m going to throw that back to prove a point, he’s going to be disappointed. I’ll comport myself with dignity, thank you very much. Always have and always will. I know my limits and I won’t be flat on my ass by the end of the night.

I can’t say the same for my new husband, who, now surrounded by quite a crowd, is tossing back with them like there isn’t going to be a tomorrow.

Ahhh, thank god. At last, something biker about him.

The crowd parts for me like I’m carrying a lethal disease. I catch Lark, in her flowery dress and her flowing beachy blowout, watching me from Gray’s side. It’s pretty damn clear she doesn’t like what she sees. She’s not the only one who holds meresponsible for my dad’s crimes. Probably every other wrong in the world too.

I smile at her, not mocking in the least, but her scowl only twists further.

I leave it at that and change direction, heading to a corner and a wall so I can observe and sip my whiskey and contemplate if my blind obedience to my father is even worth it.

As outsiders, we’ll never be truly accepted here. My marriage, until the time it might be lucky enough to be annulled, will be worse than loveless. My half-brother, Tyrant, wants it to appear legit. He’s so golden boy whipped and worried about goodness, he actually told me in a private conversation earlier this week that he wants both of us to try.

I’m not sure why my dad bothers with this place. Sure, they’re making bank running product to and from Canada because of their unique proximity to the border, and they pretty much own this city, but what’s so shit hot about Hart to want possession of this shithole in northern Washington? Every single person in this club seems colorless. I’m used to a vibrant world, rough and brutal, but full of every other sort of feeling too.

I remind myself that I don’t have tolikebeing here. I just have to follow my father’s orders and trust he wanted me here for a reason.

Hours pass. I’ll hand it to the men, they do get a bit rowdier. There’s even minor nudity. Some guy getting a blowjob in the corner. I don’t look twice to see who it is. It gets louder. Another notch on the scale. I’m still so bored I could die. I want nothing more than to go to bed. I’m tired of being stared at, tired of the hostile looks. It’s getting old already.

Thankfully, my hubby is being forced to celebrate with his club brothers. I give it another half an hour until he needs to be tucked into bed and since I’m supposed to be putting on a show of being a wife, I’ll be the one to do it and then I can leave.

I count down the minutes, my feet burning in the spiked heels because I haven’t sat down all night, my mouth dry because I finished the drink Crow poured me long ago. When Raiden stumbles away from the pool table, I take my cue and saunter across the room to do my wifely duties.

“You look tired,hubs,” I say as I reach his side. “Let me take you back toourroom and tuck you into bed. You can sleep and I’ll come back out and continue celebrating our lovely nuptials.”

“Are you insane?” Apparently, the drink’s washed away his prez’s orders. “Sow your seeds of venom somewhere else,” he spits. “Nothing will break up Satan’s Angels.”

I have impeccable self-control, so I don’t laugh right in his face, but I’ll admit it’s a struggle. “No? Where’s your prez?” He slipped out with his woman quite a while ago.

“Checking on his daughter. Checking security. You and your bastards have left us little choice.”

“Charming.” I wrinkle my nose. “You’re drunk. I’m taking you to your room and if you ask me nicely, I might even hold your hair back as you puke your guts out.” Hilarious, because he has none. He doesn’t appreciate the humor, nor my effort to not purposely raise his hackles by referring to his much larger quarters here asourroom again.

“Witch.”

He’s so easy to provoke. I shouldn’t take delight in it, but fuck, this night has been boring. “Oh yes, because I’m a woman.”

“Don’t accuse me of being misogynistic. I’m addressingyouonly. I don’t trust you. I’ll never trust you. Walk away right now, Widow. It’s been a rough month and I’m not ashamed to tell you that I’m struggling. You want to push past that line that we can’t come back from, you keep right on going.”

---