by Raven Dark
Emmy plopped onto Diamond’s bed and watched her as she tested out hairstyles.
“What do you think, Emmy?” She gathered my hair all up on top of my head.
“Better with a few tendrils hanging down. To frame her face.”
“Ohh, yes. Playful with a hint of flirty. The guys will like that.”
Diamond pinned my hair up and tugged down a few loose tendrils around my face. She curled the loose pieces and added dark smoky eyes in charcoal, then glossed my lips in a soft purple to match my hair and eye-color.
We continued to talk while the other two women dressed, each in a dark blue cadris Pretty Boy had sent them weeks ago. The conversation stayed light, for which I was grateful. Cherry usually dolled me up for these occasions, and her absence left a hole in my heart. I hoped Hawk was right that she’d be okay, but I knew it would be a long while before that would happen.
A long while.
Making my way with the other women down the hanging walkway toward the clubhouse, we talked about the party ahead. I’d worn boots for most of the trip, and though they’d been comfortable, I’d grown used to being barefoot in the Grotto. It felt nice to walk that way again, with the warm planks beneath my feet and nothing to confine them.
By the time we’d finished getting ready for the party, the sun had set, casting the lush, green grass with a silvery hue. The solar trees stood out on the green, their many panels pointed upward, like the petals on some strange exotic flower.
After being out in the baking desert, and then in the cooler Delta region, it hit me that the climate here was always perfect; never too hot or too cold. Savage had been right, the air was different here.
At the entrance to the clubhouse cave, I turned to look at the cliffs that formed this place that had become my sanctuary. The edifices rose all around me, impregnable sentinels reaching to a star-studded sky.
Damien would never find me here. He’d never find us. Security I hadn’t truly felt in weeks settled in my belly.
“Setora?”
I turned to see Diamond looking at me from inside the entrance, Emmy behind her.
“You coming, girl?”
I nodded and followed them inside.
We headed through the clubhouse, toward the back, where my Four always liked to sit. The place was buzzing with the talk of more than two dozen men, with the clack of balls on the pool tables. A faint haze of smoke filled the room, mixing with the scent of whiskey.
Halfway to the back, Dice waved me over to a table where he sat in his wheelchair playing cards with Crank and Dozer. I grinned, realizing how much I missed Cherry’s grandfather.
Diamond and Emmy went over to Doc who stood playing darts with some of the other men. The women put their arms around him, kissing him when he hit the bulls-eye.
“The life of the party is back.” Dice winked at me when I stopped by his chair and took a pipe out from between his teeth.
“It’s good to see you, sir. How did anyone get you out of your cave for this?” He rarely left his house, except when he had to.
“I couldn’t miss the chance to see you.” I laughed, and he shrugged. “The ex-General of the Legion is supposed to check out all would-be initiates,” he added in a low, conspiratorial voice. “You spent over a week with them. What do you think of them?”
“They’re…interesting.”
He raised a graying brow.
“They seem nice. Let’s put it this way. They’ll fit right in with the Legion.”
Dice looked intrigued. “What does that mean?”
I smiled, enjoying leaving him guessing. “When did you start smoking a pipe?” The tobacco smelled like the same kind T-Man smoked, masculine and sweet—and in Dice’s case, it made me think of a kindly grandfather.
“Oh, I like to every once in a while. Just don’t tell Doc. He thinks my heart can’t take it.”
I giggled.
“Well, don’t let me keep you, or your men will probably come and drag you back there.”
I glanced toward the back of the clubhouse. A large group of men were crowded around an alcove of couches and the high-backed chair Sheriff liked to sit in, talking excitedly about the trip with him and the rest of the Four. My men probably hadn’t seen me yet or one of them would have already demanded my presence.
I turned back to Dice. “Listen, Dice. I…um. Crash…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish.
He squeezed my hand.
“I know you liked him, sir. I’m sorry.”
“That I did, Setora. He was a good kid. Why don’t you come by and see Cherry in a couple of days, okay? I think she’ll need her friend, even if she doesn’t think she does.”
My muscles tightened. What would I say? How did I tell her the truth about what had happened to Crash? “I will, sir. See you later.”
Steel pushed his way past the crowd and pulled me against him. “What’s taking you so long, woman? Get your ass over here. You’re supposed to let us show you off.”
Squelching down my nervousness at being the center of attention, I pressed into him, wrapping my fingers around a handful of leather at the back of his cut. He smelled wonderful, like man and moonshine and the faintest hint of exhaust.
“Are the Brothers of Brimstone here yet, Master?”
“They’re talking with some of the other guys in their quarters. Come on, we’ll get something to eat and put some drink into you.”
We took our time strolling over toward the crowd. For all Steel’s insistence that I make myself the center of attention, he took his time walking me over to where the others waited. I liked to think he wanted me all to himself for a while.
Steel pushed us through the crowd. Beyond a tight circle of men talking animatedly, Hawk, Pretty Boy, Bear, and a few other men I’d never met, sat talking and drinking on a large sectional pushed into the corner of the wall. Well, all of them were drinking, except Hawk who was eating from a large plate of ottlot ribs and steak. Empty plates sat on the table in the middle of the couches. Sheriff sat in his throne-like chair, talking with some of the men who crowded around the group. He looked relaxed, laughing at something someone had said, his indigo eyes glowing with the kind of amusement I hadn’t seen in days. Funny how he still managed to look every bit like the king of his domain.
“Sit here and I’ll get you some food, Petal.” Steel guided me to an empty part of the sectional beside Pretty Boy, who immediately pulled me onto his lap.
Steel disappeared into the crowd. When someone moved aside to let him through, I caught a glimpse of long tables against one wall near the clubhouse bar, each laden with ribs, roast chicken, and glazed goose. Another table was piled high with desserts.
“Hungry, Princess?” Pretty Boy asked in my ear. His whiskers tickled my cheek.
“Starving.”
“Good, because if Steel’s getting you food, you’ll end up with enough to feed a starving manatore.”
I laughed.
Then I caught Hawk’s eye. He put down a rib he was finishing, and I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of the story I’d told him of Ottie and the Blue dress. His lips quirked, telling me he knew what I was thinking.
“Is it true you guys ran into a Dreg gang?” Bear was asking the Four now.
Hawk nodded. “The Hellhounds.”
“Word around the Grotto is you guys fought them and nearly got slaughtered.” Bear’s eyes were wide with awe.
“We whipped their asses, is what happened,” Pretty Boy said, squeezing my hip.
“Did Steel really fight three of that Saketh’s men?” one of the other men asked, sitting across from Pretty Boy and me. He had the reddest hair I’d ever seen, thick and curly, like waves of fire.
“Steel would probably tell you it was twenty men, but yeah.” Sheriff’s eyes danced as he took a swig of wine.
Laughter rippled.
Steel returned with a heaping plate of fries, chicken salad, a burger, and a big mug of wine. He handed the plate and mug to me. He had another plate for himself, a
lmost all meat, and a giant mug of moonshine.
“What lies are you men telling these guys about me now?” he teased, sitting on the couch beside us.
The men laughed again.
I snickered and nibbled on a fry.
“However many we can.” Sheriff caught my eye and winked at me.
“Well, these men would tell you I laid around in bed half the trip, right, Sheriff?”
“You did.” Pretty Boy grinned.
“Because I was dying, fuckhead.” His swatted at Pretty Boy.
“Go easy on him, Steel,” a man beside the redhead said in a deep, almost bass voice. “It’s the best friend’s job to keep up your reputation as a man of leisure.”
I’d just filled my fork with creamy chicken salad and had it halfway to my mouth when the man who’d just spoken stood up and went to get himself a drink. Nearly dropping my fork, I craned my neck, my eyes riveted to him.
He was probably as large as Beast, but he had a lean, sleekly muscled build that made him appear taller. Both of his bare arms were sleeved in tattoos, half his black hair up in a ponytail. His skin was shockingly pale, and he had a square-jawed, refined face that made him look almost aristocratic, odd with him dressed in leather pants and a cut.
I took a bite of salad and looked at Steel when he spoke up.
“A man of…uh.” Steel chuckled, calling over to him. “That’s a horrible thing to say to a man, Grim.”
The pale-faced man returned to his seat beside the redhead and set a mug of moonshine as big as Steel’s down on the table.
So that was Grim, the one who dealt with the Dark Legion’s dead. The word Tanna was tattooed on his rippling shoulder. A silver earring dangled from his ear, and he had a crystal as black as pitch hanging from a chain between his pecs. He was nice looking, in a dark prince sort of way.
I took a sip of wine while the men continued to talk, loving the warmth it sent spreading through my belly, then took a few more bites of salad.
“When did you get back, Grim?” Steel wiped his mouth after a chug of moonshine. “You were gone before we left for Delta.”
“A couple of days ago. Family business took a little longer than expected.” Grim drank half the mug down and licked a drop of whiskey from his lips. “From what I hear, I missed a hell of a time.”
“You did.” Steel put his meal down on the table, and the moment he did, Pretty Boy reached over and stole a rack of ribs from the plate. Or he tried to take it, before Steel held the plate away. “Hey, get your own, PB. I’m not sharing my first good meal in half a week.”
“I’m not getting up.” Pretty Boy put his arm around my shoulders, pulled me back against him, and growled into my neck. “Fine, I’ll just eat you.”
Grim’s white teeth flashed and the redhead snorted into his drink.
Pretty Boy ignored them and nipped my ear. I bit my cheek to keep from groaning, wetness pooling between my legs.
“I’ll get you something, Master.”
He set me on my feet and patted my ass.” A little whiskey too, Princess.”
“Yes, Master.” I snagged a few fries from my plate and went over to the table to get him an assortment of meats and a mug of whiskey, popping the fries in my mouth as I went.
I wasn’t normally into fried food, but whoever had made the fries had seasoned them with light garlic and just the right amount of salt, giving them a flavor that exploded on the taste buds.
By the time I’d come back, a couple of men were weaving through the crowded clubhouse toward the back, talking with Sinister, Savage, and Reaper who followed close behind them.
I set the food for Pretty Boy down on the table slowly, my eyes glued to the procession.
Every man around the room, including Dice, had stopped what they were doing to get a look at the new arrivals. Some gawked at the twins, impressed, possibly because twins were such a rarity, if not as rare as females. Many stared with interest, awe, or even fear at Reaper, taking in his odd robes and unique cranberry, dreadlocked hair. A few whispered and nudged each other before going back to their cards or pool games.
“Princess.” Pretty Boy’s voice pulled me back to myself. “You gonna make Master starve or what?” He crooked his finger at me.
While Bear, the redhead and Grim watched our interaction with amusement, I walked over and handed Pretty Boy his food. He put it down and hauled me into his lap.
The Brothers of Brimstone appeared with the two men who’d been escorting them. Sheriff stood up to greet them and looked around at the men seated.
“Men, this is Sinister, Under-General to the Brothers of Brimstone; his brother Savage, their Executioner; and Reaper, their Captain of the Guard. Brothers, you know Bear, and this is Grim, our Undertaker, and Blade, our weapons specialist.” He nodded to the man with the fire-red hair last. The lower-ranking Legion members stood up to shake their hands, then took their seats again.
The whole time Sheriff talked, Sinister signed to Savage so fast I could hardly distinguish the individual signs.
The Brothers of Brimstone seated themselves with us on the sectional, the Legion members making room. While Steel and Pretty Boy ate, the group launched into conversation until someone called Bear and Grim over for a game of pool. Blade got himself another mug of whiskey and sat beside Savage.
He nearly knocked over his mug, and Savage’s hand snaked out and caught it.
Blade gave a shaky laugh. “That’s a neat trick. What are you, part cat, man?”
Savage shook his head, putting his hand by his ear. Then he gestured to his lips, to his ear again, then gave a shrug.
“Deaf?”
He nodded and gestured to his mouth, then his eyes.
“You read lips. Gotcha. Sorry, man.”
Savage lifted his shoulders in a gesture that clearly asked, “Why?” He made a slicing motion with his finger across his neck, then launched into a string of signing.
“Wait. Slow down. I know some handsign, but I’m rusty as fuck. Do that again.”
I noticed that Sinister watched this conversation with interest, but he made no move to interpret.
Savage signed slowly. A slice across his throat came first.
“Kill? You’re gonna kill me?” Blade’s bright blue eyes teased.
He laughed, shook his head, and made the slicing motion again.
“Wait no. That’s ‘Death,’ right?”
Savage nodded, then made an x with his fingers, then put his hand to his ear and shook his head.
Sinister snorted at whatever he’d said.
So did Blade. “You can’t hear when people die. That’s cold, haha, I like it.”
Savage gave an exaggerated shrug, pointed at him, and then made a kind of wiggling gesture with his fingers.
“How…oh, how do I know sign? My father was deaf. Except he died years ago, so I hardly ever use it...”
Something Reaper and Hawk were doing caught my attention before I could hear the rest of what Blade said. The two of them sat side by side, passing a long stretch of red silk cloth between them—the same one Hawk had used in my punishment weeks ago. They tied the cloth in more and more complex knots.
“It’s better if you do it this way,” Reaper said, his gloriously exotic voice so relaxing it made me feel almost sleepy. “That way, you can tie both her hands and feet at once.”
He held up the cloth, which now split into an X and had a loop at the ends. “You’d need a longer cloth, with a bigger X to use on a person, but it’s good for a whole night of fun.”
Hawk made an approving sound and took the cloth from him, inspecting it. “I’ll have to try this.” He caught my eye and his yellow gaze heated.
My cheeks flushed.
“Oh, fucking Maker, Reaper, that’s all we need.” Pretty Boy chuckled. “Hawk’s already enough of a freak without you giving him tips.”
Hawk snorted.
Reaper shook his head with a grin. “There is no such thing, Pretty Boy…”
A shor
t time later, Blade and Sinister got up and went to join some of the men across the room for a game of pool. Sinister moved over to where Blade had been, and he and Sheriff talked about some of the other members of Sinister’s club.
The conversations around me flowed from one to the other to the next until I started to grow sleepy in the warmth of Pretty Boy’s arms. It felt so good to be home, I never wanted to leave. Instead of seeming out of place, the Brothers of Brimstone only made me feel more than ever like I belonged, made the place feel more alive.
“All right, PB, you’ve hogged her long enough.” Steel pulled me across his own lap and sat me sideways on his knees. I wrapped my arms around him.
“…should probably hear from Ash in a couple of days about our joining our chapters,” Sinister was saying.
Sheriff popped a truffle into his mouth from a plate of desserts someone had brought over. “Good to hear. You men went above and beyond to prove yourselves more than worthy of the Legion’s patch. We wouldn’t be here if not for you guys. And Beast of course. I hope we have proven ourselves worthy of having you wear it.”
Sinister took a swig of his whiskey, then raised it in his direction. “That you have, Sheriff. I only wish Ash could have seen this place. You’ve got some crazy nice digs here.”
I stifled a yawn, not wanting to miss a moment of this. I’d never seen my men look so relaxed, especially Sheriff. After the horrible trip we’d had, they needed this time with their friends, new and old.
“Tired, Petal?” Steel stroked my thigh, his voice gorgeously husky with drink.
I nodded, loving the sound of that voice in my ear, hugging him close.
With more than two weeks having passed since the fight with Saketh and his men, nearly losing Steel seemed little more than a horrible memory. Looking up at him now, it was almost hard to believe he’d nearly died. I gripped a handful of the leather at the back of his cut.
Steel held my gaze, his mouth turning down. “You okay, Petal?” he rasped.
Maker, I was holding his cut in a death grip. I snuggled closer to him. “Yes, Master. I’m just so glad you’re here.”
Feeling suddenly weepy, I nuzzled his neck.
He chuckled and took my chin in his huge hand, easily enveloping it. “Hush and give me your mouth.”