Page 127 of Claimed By a King

He nods. “I memorized it the first week I was here and recited it in my head every day since.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, I hand him the new skull head and top and bottom rocker patches. “Welcome to the family, brother.”

Taking the patches, he lurches forward, pulling me in for a back slapping hug, and I can’t fucking fight the smile that lights up my face. Titch’s enthusiasm fills me with pride.

He came to us for help last year after killing his abusive grandma and he’s shown nothing but loyalty and dedication to our cause. I don’t doubt that one day, he will be sitting in my seat, leading future and current members.

One by one, the men stand from their seats, coming to the end of the table to congratulate their new club brother, while I return to the end of the table to my princess.

Her blue gaze tracks my movements, an analyzing stare falling to my cut.

“What’s going through your head, Princess?”

Her gaze travels to the end of the room before sliding back to mine as I take my seat next to her, and she tilts her head, staring at the front of my cut again.

“Why is your President badge crooked?”

“Badge?” I bite back my smirk at her incorrect terminology, and she frowns.

“That.” She points to my President patch.

“You mean my patch?”

“Oh.” Her blue eyes dart up to mine. “It’s called a patch? Not a badge?”

Smirking, I nod and drop my eyes to it and peel back the corner. “It’s crooked because it’s stuck on with double-sided tape. It’s not stitched into place yet.”

Confusion furrows her brows, and she reaches out peeling back the corner to see for herself. “But you’ve been Prez for a while, right?” Her gaze darts up to meet mine again. “Why haven’t you stitched it on properly?”

Slowly reaching up, I take her hand from the chest of my cut, stroking my thumb over the back as I rest our handson my thigh.

“Typically, the Cruz Cunts are the ones to stitch it on,” I tell her. “And since you are the only woman I want touching my cut, I used double-sided tape until…” I trail off and she nods.

“Until I came back to you?”

“Yes,” I growl, hating that we were apart for so fucking long.

“I’ve been back for a while. Why haven’t you asked me to do it?”

Lifting her hand to my lips, I press a kiss to her warm skin before I respond.

“There have been more important things to worry about. But when you’re ready, you can stitch my patch on. If you’d like to.”

She stands abruptly. “Is this meeting over?”

Turning to look at the guys, I nod, clearing my throat. “Time to celebrate our new member,” I call over the noise before slamming the gavel on the table, and my club brothers hoot, ushering Titch out of the room.

“The meeting is over.” I advise Zoe who tugs me up from my seat.

“Take your cut off.”

My brows lift even as I smirk, but Zoe stands with determination written across her expression, holding her hand out for my leather.

Once I shrug my cut off, Zoe takes it and storms out of church, on a mission, and I can’t help but fucking grin from ear to ear.

I knew it was worth waiting for her to do it. Looking after me is part of her role, and mine is to make sure no one ever hurts her again.

The clubhouse is already filled with chatter and laughter by the time I follow Zoe out. The Cruz Cunts, having been notified beforehand, have set up some food and music for the celebration, and Tex has drinks lined up on the bar as the men start drinking them down.

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