Mo clasped his hands together as if preparing for a sermon. “Seeing as tonight is the last night we have until all of this is done—a war waged on both bikers and politicians alike—we thought it was a good opportunity.”
“Hopper?” Mo moved to the side, giving Grasshopper lots of room to swing his hidden treasure from behind his back and present it. The parcel rested heavily in his raised hands.
My eyes widened as I looked at Melanie.
She winked.
I think I know what this is …
Grasshopper closed the last few steps and shoved the item into Arthur’s chest. “It’s all you need to make an honest woman out of her.”
I covered my mouth with my hands.
At Dagger Rose, I’d been too young to appreciate the bonds of love and the tether of a family group—even though I’d loved Arthur with all my heart. But this … this was more than just love for one person. This was a welcome, an initiation—an acceptance into a world I knew and forgot for so long.
I belonged here.
I was no longer a stranger.
“Fuck.” Arthur glanced at me, understanding slowly smoking his eyes. He looked at Mo and Grasshopper, then the rest of Pure Corruption. His hands shook a little as he tore open the package.
Forgetting the circle of gawking people, I drifted closer to Arthur, never taking my eyes off his strong fingers as he tore at the cello tape and scrunched up the paper. Tossing the wrapping in the direction of the fire, he revealed a tan leather jacket.
My heart stopped beating.
Grasshopper laughed. “Couldn’t have a Dagger hanging out with us. No offense.”
Arthur cleared his throat as he shook out the jacket, dangling it in his arms. The back faced me and I gasped at the perfection.
Reaching out, I traced the emblem for Pure Corruption with its skull and abacas. Peering closer, I noticed the filigree circle encompassing the logo, threading with Sagittarius and Libra star signs.
And above it all were the words Property of Kill.
I trembled. I never expected to be accepted the way I had been. Never expected to find such a place after being adrift for so long.
Resting my hands on his, I sensed the pressure of his headache, the joy of his excitement, and the sharp tang of his lust.
If we were alone, I would’ve grabbed him and kissed away the lingering worry in his gaze. I would’ve shown him just how much I was already his, regardless if I had a ring, jacket, or marriage license. None of that mattered as long as I got to sleep beside him at night and rise with him in the morning. We were equals. We were each other’s.
“Cleo—” Arthur cleared his throat, his voice scratchy and coarse.
The group surrounding us gathered tighter.
I stood stiffly in front of Arthur. My heart was a runaway rabbit. My body a vibrating engine. I wanted it over with so I could sink into the new leather and find home.
Arthur’s body heat battled with mine. Pressing a swift kiss on my mouth, he murmured, “Turn around.”
Drinking in his green eyes, I struggled to obey. Pirouetting, I faced Pure Corruption.
A rustle, a footstep, then a heavy, welcoming weight fell across my shoulders. “You are no longer a Dagger Rose, but a Pure. From this day forth, you belong to this family, you will honor our rules, you will protect our members, and you will forever be welcome within our walls.”
Arthur wrapped his arms around me, kissing my hairline. His large hand imprisoned my breast, dragging my attention to the glitter of silver. “See … it’s real, Buttercup. Written in thread. You’re mine forever.”
I sucked in a breath as I looked down at the front pocket.
“It’s official now,” Arthur whispered. “The Club has spoken.”
Tears swelled as I read four embroidered words:
Cleo.
President’s Old Lady.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kill
Everything of value had always been taken from me.
If I showed the slightest affection toward anything, my brother would steal it or my father would ruin it.
That was what they’d tried to do when they’d seen the Libra eraser from Cleo.
I could’ve yelled and demanded they give it back—but I’d learned to ignore them. I’d adopted that habit with Cleo. Whenever my family was too close—I pretended I didn’t care. I hid the fact that I loved her and hurt her instead. I did it to keep her safe. —Kill, age sixteen
It was getting worse.
The pain.
The fucking excruciating pain.
The drugs the doctor had prescribed weren’t doing shit, and it took every inch of strength and energy to hide the extent of agony I was in. I fooled most people, but not Cleo. I’d never been able to fool her.
I took a huge gulp of air as we entered my home. The bike ride over here had been a blessing and a curse. The wind had helped blow away some of the hot pressure in my skull, but the concentration to lean into corners, brake for traffic lights, and keep an eye on the speedometer taxed me.
Tonight should be the fucking happiest night of my life. Instead, I battled with sadness. And, if I was downright honest, self-pity. I was done feeling like this. Done feeling so fucking weak.
Tomorrow, I would see the doctor again. I couldn’t go on this way—despite the upcoming war and meeting with Samson, I had to face facts that I needed help.