Page 52 of Raiden

The music is blaring, cigarette and weed smoke curls through the air in clouds of blue, and bodies clog the clubhouse’s lounge.

Honestly, it reminds me of my wedding.

Minus the fact that Raiden and I are on speaking terms.

More than that.

He hasn’t let me out of his sight for any longer than necessary—that being club duties that take up his time and attention.

We’ve shared the same bed together since the attempted kidnapping. We’ve just slept. Or lain awake keeping each other company with the broody volume of our unvoiced thoughts. If the situation wasn’t so stressful, the whole club on the worst kind of alert, it might have been romantic.

It might even have beenintimate.

The worry and the fear jamming up into our insides like sharp blades kept it from being.

The relief in the club is a palpable thing. It vibrates up through the floorboards of the old warehouse turned clubhouse, ricochets of the walls, and thrums through my bloodstream.

We can breathe again.

This might be a smaller club than the one I’m familiar with, but tonight they’re partying as hard as any other bikers. It doesn’t matter that it’s the middle of the week. Every single man in here is going to wake up tomorrow with a hangover that leaves them seeing stars, and probably most of the women as well.

Preacher and his old lady, Rita, who are in their forties, are over at the dartboard on the far side of the room, but they’re all over each other like they just met, and not throwing or scoring. Preacher literally used to be a preacher, in a real church. Rita runs one of the clubs here in Hart, but not the one those tweakers burnt. She strictly does clubs, not strip clubs.

Jody and Atlas, two young, very beautiful people, have found a dark corner of the room. They don’t give a shit that everyone or anyone could see them. They’re making out, but they’re not doing anything that most others here aren’t engaging in.

Decay and Grave are twin brutish looking brothers. I heard they came from Canada and never left Hart when they stopped along the way. They’re both in the middle of the room, swaying to the music with a few of the club whores. They have a drink in each hand, but their women for tonight are doing the touching for them.

Reckless and Seer are playing pool against Scythe and Reaper. That’s one scary team, but Seer is a grizzled old biker badass bitch, and she can more than hold her own. Reckless was my dad’s VP when he was president of this place. He doesn’tlook like he’ll take any shit either. So far, the game is amicable, despite the many drinks littering the pool table’s surface.

Bullet and Smoke are tossing back drinks, standing to the left of the room, probably talking about guns.

Crow and Gunner scare the shit out of me. They both wear their all-black ensembles differently than the rest of the men here. They certainly wear their dead expressions in a uniquely chilling way. It makes sense that they’re both smoking joints on the couch beside each other, their eyes tracking everything, missing nothing.

Odin, Axe, Numb Nuts, Brick, and Mason are all engaged in various ways with the club whores around the lounge.

Even Wizard and the club’s prospects take short breaks from being on guard duty and monitoring the tech to pop in and soak up that sweet feeling of being alive.

I’ve never been to a biker funeral before, but I’ve been to regular ones, unfortunately. The atmosphere is grave, but the longing to cheat death and deny your own immortality by living as hard and fast as possible in the moment is the same.

Everyone here feels it.

I’m not immune.

This night reminds me of my wedding, except that tonight, Raiden doesn’t mind my company. We’re on speaking terms. If anyone’s noticed how we’ve been standing extra close or how I’ve been sleeping in his room, no one has said anything.

This time, us outsiders are included in this club like we’re a part of the family. I saved Lark’s life. I put myself between her and those men. I killed for her, but I was willing to die to makesure they didn’t get to her too. That’s made me, unquestionably, a member of the family, an honorary Angel.

When Raiden left, the fear that speared through me made it impossible to breathe until he came back. Several times, I had to check to make sure I hadn’t done something stupid like shot myself and didn’t realize it, the pain was that bad. The weight and the toll of taking a life are clearly pressing down on him, a spear of his own, but he’s alive, he’s here, and when I glance over at him, he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in this room he wants to see.

I’m holding a beer in one hand, the can sweating all over me and dribbling condensation onto the floor. I’ve been holding it for some time without drinking it, but the thing is still sweating. It was practically frozen when I got it.

Raiden was talking with Gray and Lark before they started pairing off like a few of the other couples in this room, here, but oblivious to anyone but each other. He sauntered over to stand beside me ten minutes ago, and we’ve stood here without saying anything.

I was almost afraid to look at him, dumb as that sounds.

I’m scared of the current stretched taut between us. I’m freaked the fuck out of the level of need I feel for him. I want to be close to him. I want to be in his bed. I want to be inside his head and have him inside of me.

Honestly? I never saw myself settling down. Not with anything other than knowledge and a demanding career.

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