Page 40 of Dancin' with Demons

Raylynn

Our first morning here was a little strange, and I was tired. After pizza and putting Savior to bed around eight last night, Renegade, Lacey, and I stayed up until almost three in the morning talking, laughing, and catching up. They filled me in on most of the last three years with the club, that way I don’t feel odd, and gave me a rundown of who is who as far as the brothers and clubwhores go. It was helpful today so I could keep Savior away from the whores that have the bad attitudes like Kitty, the young one Renegade put in her place yesterday.

It’s a little before noon, and Renegade talked me into bringing Savior to the common room so everyone could meet her and get used to seeing her around. She’s the first kid to really stay at the clubhouse. Reaper is a patched member and he’s been with our little group most of the day, which is us plus Catacomb, Lacey, Trickster, Rainie, Sandra, and the club’s vice president, Archangel. I’m a little startled when Catacomb slaps his hand on the table in front of me to get my intention. Too bad he gets the entire table’s, too.

“So, Raylynn,” he says with a strange little smile on his face, “aside from the official claimin’, which we’ve already discussed, there a few other necessities for ol’ ladies.”

My eyes widen as I glance quickly at Renegade then back at his president. “Okay. Like?”

The smile on Catacomb’s face widens. “How do you feel about getting’ your property brand?”

I jump as Renegade and Lacey both shout,“no!”at the same time. Neither looks at me, but instead glares at Catacomb.

“Are you nuts, Cat?” Lacey says as she slaps her cousin on his shoulder.

“What branding?” I say, my eyes still bouncing between them all.

“I saidno,” Renegade growls, his arm tightening around my shoulder.

“Now, wait a damn minute,” I say, leaning forward and shrugging his arm from around me. “Last time I checked, I was in charge of me. And if this is part of officially being yours,” I turn my eyes on Renegade’s, “then why wouldn’t you want it? Unless you’re not serious about the whole, I-want-to-claim-you bullshit?”

Now Renegade’s eyes go wide, and I realize, he’s never seen this side of me— the one from before the Havoc Ryders. “It’s not that, little love. It’s a brand like the traditional sense. A heated piece of iron that burns an image into the skin.”

“Sandra,” Catacomb says, “show her.”

I look back as Sandra stands, pulling the right side of her shirt up as she pushes the waist of her jeans down enough to reveal a burn scar in the perfect shape of Catacomb’s initials with the word‘property’underneath. After she rights her clothes, she sits in the chair next to Catacomb across from me.

“It hurts like a motherfucker,” she says seriously, “and if Renegade is anything like Cat, he’ll be super annoying about cleaning it and shit until it at least heals some.”

For a moment, I stare between her and Catacomb. I really thought they were going to have some big thing, but a brand is kind of easy. Finally, I shrug. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Hell yeah, woman,” Catacomb says with what sounds a lot like pride as he stands and whistles, loudly. “Outside! Time for a brandin’!”

Several of the others holler and whistle, too, as everyone stands and heads toward the door. Getting up, I follow them, and the crowd moves toward the back of the building. Just around the corner, they all part and move around in a semicircle, opening the view to a four foot side wooden table with a barrel of burning wood at the end of it. Moving past everyone, I stop next to the table, already knowing I have to lay on it in front of a crowd. Catacomb steps up to the barrel on the other side and slide a long iron branding rod into the flames.

Fingers touch my arms and I spin to find Renegade, Reaper, Archangel, Trickster, and Hardwire standing very close behind me. My eyebrows go up, my limbs tight. “What are you all doing?”

Renegade’s features soften. “We have to hold you down, little love. You can’t flail around when he puts that brand on you. It has to be clear.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s finished. “You can all fuck off. You’re not holding me down on shit, and if any of you touch me, I’ll cut your hands off and start a collection. I got this.”

Renegade glances behind me, and then Catacomb clears his throat. “Her choice, Renegade. Give her some space.”

As he turns away, I grab his arm and wait until he brings his face back toward me. As soon as his eyes meet mine, I push on my tiptoes and grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips to mine. After a moment, I let go and lower from the balls of my feet. “I’ll be fine, babe.”

Renegade cups the side of my face, but nods before turning and moving to the loose but closed circle of people around the table. My eyes roam over the ground and find a long heap of rope under the table. Stepping forward, I grab it and toss it under the table before bringing each end up to rest roughly where I know my eyes will be. Sighing, trying to prepare myself, I pull my shirt over my head and set it on the top corner of the table before popping the button of my jeans. I’m glad Savior is napping right now.

Climbing on the table, Catacomb quieting helps me get in the right area to make this easiest on him. Before I lay back though, someone calls my name and I turn my head to Trickster stepping toward the table as he pulls the belt from his waist.

Holding it out to me, he smiles tightly. “Don’t want you messing up a nice smile.”

“Thanks,” I whisper before folding the belt in half and then placing it in my mouth and biting down enough to hold it.

Laying back on the table, I shiver at first from the cold wood. After a second, I adjust, though, and grab the ropes, wrapping them around each of my arms until they’re tight enough that if I pull them, there’s almost no give. Bringing my eyes to the end of the table, I nod at Catacomb and then rest my head back, closing my eyes. Catacomb moves the edge of my jeans down a little more before swiping a cold liquid over my hip area. Taking a deep breath, my body seizes the moment the iron touches my skin with an audible hiss. My back arches off the table, slamming my head back harder as my arms flex and tighten as if I’m trying to rip the rope in half. Catacomb’s weight settles on my tense legs, the burn burrowing into my skin as I squeeze my eyes closed, tears forcing their way from the corner’s, my jaws so tight, I’m afraid of biting a piece out of Trickster’s belt.

But as quick as the searing pain starts it stops, leaving behind a growing, burning ache. My mouth pops open as I heave in a breath, the weight from my legs disappearing as I release my fists and shake the rope from my arms. Grabbing the belt from my chest, I sit up enough to turn and drop my legs off the table. The moment I stand, everyone starts clapping and cheering, and Renegade’s arms go around me to hold me up.

“I’m proud of you, little love,” he whispers in my ear.

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