In a week, it’ll be official. My property patch on her back. Her in my bed, our bed, until I draw my last breath.

  I don’t check in at the clubhouse when I park in our driveway and help Kit dismount the bike.

  For the rest of the night, we carry on as we always do—shower together, read in bed—naked this time, because who in the hell needs clothes when you can look at that smokin’ hot body instead.

  Truth, no matter how long we’re together, i’ll never get enough…

  Because love like this is once in a lifetime.

  Kit’s reading about Z and his lady when I pluck the book from her hand, rest it face down on the bed between us, and take her mouth hard… to pour all my love and appreciation into.

  When she pulls back, panting, I peck her cute little nose. “I love you.”

  Eyes on mine, Kit cups my cheek. The warmth of her connection soaks right in, as it always does. “And I love you more. Thank you for today.”

  I turn my face and kiss the inside of her palm. “Anytime, love. Any-fuckin’-time, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She smiles—shy and soft, and oh-so-mine.

  Seven days.

  Seven more fuckin’ days.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  KIT

  Life on the Sacred Sinner compound is anything but traditional. I don’t know a single person who can say their sisters live beside them. If you need a cup of sugar, you don’t call, you walk over and get the sugar. They’re here for everything. From movie nights in Bink’s basement to shared recipes, to male bitching hour via text, no matter the day or time, they’re there.

  Most of us grow up hoping to fit in. That’s part of the human condition. To want to be wanted for who you are. Not for what you bring someone else. Not because you serve them, like I did my ex.

  Every day here is a new adventure.

  Whether it’s Bulk pissing Jez off, Deke running after his daughters, or Loretta and her sex tales with Blimp, it’s always entertaining, to say the least.

  Today, our small house is full of those very sisters.

  Not just one or two.

  All of them.

  It’s my wedding day.

  I can’t fuckin’ believe it.

  My. Wedding. Day.

  The entire compound is buzzing with people, all of them draped in leather. From Adam and the brothers setting everything up with the guidance of Debbie and Candy Cane. To Bonez, helping us ladies get ready for the big day. Well, maybe not ready, but he sure is helping dial down the crazy. To be honest, I think Gunz sent his brother to make sure I don’t get cold feet. As if that’d ever happen. There’s not a stitch of cold goin’ on in these boots. The same boots he bought me last week. The same ones I wore on our ride, and I took off at the meadow. Our meadow—is what I’ve begun calling it. Because that was the most magical day I’ve spent with any person in my life, and the most I’ve connected with another person.

  All of my new sisters are ready to take on the day, including Whisky, the fiery redhead, who rode in with Bonez this morning for the party.

  Most of the sisters are busy getting dressed throughout my house. Why they decided to get ready here and not Bink’s is beyond my comprehension. Our place is way too small to host this many bodies.

  On the couch, the picture of calm, Bonez lounges in jeans and his leather vest as the horde of females dress and undress in front of him. The man doesn’t bat a single lash. If I didn’t already respect him before, I’d respect him even more now. He’s got Leech on one leg as Dom sits beside him, playing with an alligator toy.

  “Does anyone need hairspray?” Jez calls from the bathroom, where plumes of toxic fumes cloud the air.

  Hot footing a fresh cup of tea from the kitchen into my bedroom, to get dressed in peace, I escape the madness. At the end of our bed, I pat Chibs’ brawny head and take the world’s longest sip of hot chamomile. In through my nose, I breathe. Pause. Count to five. Then out it goes. Chibs nudges me with his flat nose, and I plop down beside him for a quick cuddle before dressing.

  We are T-minus one hour to wedlock.

  “It’s crazy out there, huh?” I talk to my pup.

  He snuggles against my side in response.

  “Dad and I are gonna be married today. You might need to sleep in the living room tonight. Dad and I don’t wanna scar ya for life, bud.” I scratch behind his ear.

  Our Frenchie doesn’t seem to grasp what I’m saying, and I don’t care either way. This room is a refuge and has been since the night I first wound up on the compound. The day I read the first vampire romance in here. The day I found out bikers can be into romance books. Though, Gunz would still argue that to this day. Don’t worry, I’ll keep his secret, as I’ll keep all the rest of them.

  A double knock sounds at the door. “Kit, you need anything?” comes from Jade.

  “No. Thanks. I’ll be out soon.” More like last minute.

  The sisters are donning denim skirts and red tank tops for the wedding. Those who have an old man are wearing their property of vests, too. I’m… wearing… this…

  Standing from the bed, I finger the edge of my band t-shirt draped across the dresser. A tight skirt pairs well with my Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers top. It showed up yesterday, out of the blue. Gunz handed me a package and said, “Wear this tomorrow.”

  Oh, I’m wearing it.

  I’m gonna wear the hell out of this shirt. It’s freaking awesome.

  Doing my best not to let my anxiety win the day, I drown out the chaos in the house, finish my tea, and get dressed. My t-shirt slides over a sexy lace bra. The black, skintight skirt keeps my pussy under wraps. The leather bracelet from Adam adorns my wrist, and as a last little somethin’ somethin’, I slip the black garter Bink bought up my leg. It’s exposed for everyone to see. I can’t lie. It looks hot with the skirt, boots, and tattoos. Not too shabby, if I say so myself.

  Knowing I gotta slap on some makeup to be more presentable, I kiss Chibs’ head before I exit the room. Out of the frying pan and into the fire we go.

  “Woo! Woo! Hot mama!” Jez cheers when she sees me.

  With long, blonde hair braided down both sides of her head, Bink approaches and squeezes my arm. “He’s gonna lose his mind. You look hot as fuck.”

  Wrinkling my nose at the compliment, I squeeze her arm in appreciation.

  Bonez whistles his agreement from the couch as Leech scrambles to get off his lap and does her best to toddle over to me. By her second plop to the floor, I swoop in for the save. Hooked on my hip, she pats my nose with her palm like she’s seen her grandpa do with his finger many times.

  I chuckle at her adorableness and pat her nose, too, nicely with a finger. “It’s good to see you, too, young lady.”

  Dressed in a frilly red dress and matching headband, Leech babbles an entire story before I hand her back to her mama so I can finish getting ready. Jez is nice enough to fan out the bathroom before I enter, so I don’t die of sticky aerosol lung.

  In the mirror, door open, I give myself a once-over. My hair’s grown a bit since the warehouse. Not as much as I’d like, but I’m rockin’ the shortness anyhow. I’m just lucky I have the head and face for it. Not everyone can pull off bald.

  From the small bag under the sink, I cart out the necessities. A dramatic smokey shadow, eyeliner, and va-va-voom mascara. I smear on dark lipstick for effect. Normal pinky blush and a bit of shimmer finishes the look. It’s not much, but it’s far more than I wear on the daily.

  From the doorway, Loretta watches me, in her red, denim, and a sexy black wig. When I turn to face her, fat droplets cascade down her cheeks. Not wanting to lose my shit, I wrap the woman up in a big hug. Because I get it. This is a big deal for us. All of us. Something we didn’t think could ever happen when we were there. With them. When real life and happiness was a distant memory. Two of us are dead because of those bastards. We lost a bit of ourselves in the darkness, but we also gained each other. Before I know what’s happening, there’s a circle of sisters surrounding us, all wrapped up in each other’s arms, smelling of perfume and soap.

  Resting my chin on Loretta’s shoulder, I refuse to cry. I won’t drown in those memories. I refuse to go back there. Those fuckers won’t win. Caught up in her grief, Loretta trembles against me as I recall our hands clutched in the cold, listening to the screams of our sisters, begging for mercy. Of the intense hunger and fear. We did it, though. We’re breathing. We’re alive. Loved by men. Loved by our sisters. Loved by our families. We made it out. We made it to today.

  One by one, the sisters release their holds until all is left is three—Jade, Loretta, and me—our foreheads pressed together.

  “Thank you for being here,” I whisper.

  “Always,” Loretta vows on a sniffle, and Jade nods.

  “I’m getting married today.” As the words fall, a sense of awe reaches into my chest and squeezes its tight fist around my heart.

  I’m getting married today.

  To my son’s real father.

  To a man who accepts me.

  Who saved me.

  Who loves me.

  Today, I become a real Sacred Sister.

  Today, these women will be by my side for always.

  Today, I am freed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  GUNZ

  Since the moment I woke this mornin’, alone, in Big’s clubhouse bedroom, after an impromptu bachelor party of club whores and booze, everything’s been a fuckin’ blur. I’m here, but I’m not. And before you worry your pretty little head, I didn’t partake in any of the whores or libations. I was sober the entire time. I learned my lesson. My dick belongs to one woman and one woman alone. When Jizz tried to get me a lap dance, I declined. When they tried to get me to take a shot from a woman’s big, luscious tits, I spun her around and made them take the shot. Not my thing. Not anymore. This man is taken. This man is also about to burst out of his fuckin’ skin.

  Marriage jitters are a real goddamn thing.

  I’m livin’ proof.

  Since the moment I opened my eyes, I’ve had ants in my pants—like I took a line of the finest coke. It’s been decades since I’ve lived that wild, and let me tell ya, the feeling’s the same as I remember. Only I’m stone fuckin’ sober, all sweaty, and unable to sit still. So, I’ve kept busy, helpin’ Debbie set shit up for my wedding.

  She wasn’t keen on it at first until I explained what’s doin’, and she relented. We’ve got potted flowers every-fuckin’-where. Tables for food. Damn, good food. Our chairs are full of brothers, many of who rode in from out of state to be here. Some of their old ladies tagged along, too. The compound’s burstin’ with family.

  My woman isn’t here yet.

  Chewin’ a hole through the side of my cheek, I’m standin’ at the head of some aisle we made. Debbie rolled a red runner thingy down the center. Big’s up here with me, wearing his cut and a dumbass clerical collar he fashioned outta somethin’. You know what I’m talkin’ about. The white piece religious men wear when they’re men of God. Only, Big ain’t a man of no god. He’s a sarcastic fucker, who’s takin’ his reasonability of marryin’ us far too seriously. If I hadn’t nixed the idea early this mornin’, he planned on wearing a large wooden cross attached to a leather strap around his neck. That’s Big for ya.

  Every eye in the crowd is on me.

  I adjust the neck of my cut, hopin’ it’ll somehow calm these nerves, then roll my shoulders a handful of times to loosen them up. Kit’s takin’ forever. The sisters have already taken their seats, apart from Bink, who’s got my blonde grandbaby and the adorable redheaded Dom, at the start of the runner, ready to do their part as ring bearer and flower girl.

  Tati and Janie kneel at the other end to help wave the kiddos thisaway. A chorus of laughter rings out when Leech turns to Dom and boops him on the nose with her palm. He staggers a step back, flashing her an offended stink-eye. When she doesn’t get the smile she’s after, Leech turns to her mama and pouts. Bink boops her nose in return, and my grandbaby breaks into a fit of tinkly giggles. The sound alone makes me forget my own chewed-up nerves for a beat as the first smile I’ve brandished all day rises to the surface.

  For a suspended moment, everything is peace in my world until my son comes into view, and on his arm… her.

  Big clasps me on my shoulder when I forget to breathe.

  He squeezes me there hard enough to bruise and slaps a white handkerchief to the center of my chest when he catches me welling up. This is straight up happening.

  The boy nobody gave a shit about. The man incapable of doin’ anythin’ more than pleasure a woman is gonna have a wife. A mighty fine, tough-as-nails wife. A wife who beams at me every day for no reason than she wants to. A woman who listens and cares. Really cares. Who spends time asking questions—deep, meaningful ones. A forgiving woman who sees my flaws and doesn’t stop lovin’ me anyhow.

  And beside her is my kid wearing his cut.

  Mine.

  Flesh and blood. Same eyes. Same hair. Or at least what it used to look like when I wasn’t as old as dirt.

  My first child, not of blood, the one who gave me a reason to live, to care and give a damn about somethin’ other than sex, booze, and bikes, escorts my grandbaby and Dom down the aisle. Or attempts to, as they stop to greet half our guests. I make eye contact with my honey-eyed goddess. The tattooed beaut winks, far more confident than me, as my pussy-ass lets the waterworks flow. I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. A sweet, lopsided smirk ticks up at the edge of Kit’s luscious red lips before she mouths, I love you.

  Christ.

  Swallowin’ thickly, I rub the handkerchief across my eyes to stop this cryin’ shit.

  “Fuckin’ breathe,” Big growls, not a fan of feelings. “Breathe.”

  Through my nose, I draw in a chest full of air, before blowing it out through my mouth. It does fuckall to quell the nerves, and I can’t think of a single reason it matters. Stepping side to side, I fiddle with my SS ring, but I don’t stop watchin’ my woman.

  Once Leech reaches us, little basket in hand, I kneel to kiss her cheek before I ruffle Dom’s hair and untie Kit’s ring from his little pillow. I slide it up my pinkie for safekeeping. My baby doll, all grown up, steps before me, her bright, blue eyes shimmering with unspent tears. I do what I gotta do and pull her into my warmth. Her head against my chest, arms around my middle, she utters so only we can hear, “I’m so happy for you both.”

  Doesn’t that just take the fuckin’ cake? She’s happy. I’m happy. I kiss the top of her blonde mop and say as much. “Me, too, Baby Doll. Me, too.”

  When we’ve gotten our fill, Bink steps back, rockin’ a bright watery smile, and finds her spot to sit in the front row, a blanket stretched out on the grass in front of her for Dom and Leech to play.

  Returning my attention to the reason I’m here, Kit and Adam step onto the runner, white-and-black flower petals scattered before them. The mice in my gut start to gnaw like feisty bastards. Fuck, that’s my wife. Yep, this is real.

  Music starts from a speaker I had Blimp set up for this moment, to the clip of the song I pictured her walking down the aisle to. The idea came to me last week, when I ordered her shirt, sittin’ in my office, listenin’ to my old records.

  “Here Comes My Girl”, by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, serenades the crowd as my woman nears, her arm linked in our sons. She’s breathtaking—black skirt, t-shirt, boots, and that hot-as-sin garter I’ll remove later with my teeth.

  ’Cause here comes my girl.

  Yeah, she looks so right.

  She’s definitely all I need tonight.

  Big doesn’t bother with customary shit when Adam hands off his mom and takes the vacant seat Bink saved for him.

  I don’t bother with customary shit either when I draw my woman in for a kiss before we get started. She falls into me, her dainty hand between my pecs, mouth on mine. The brothers crow their approval from their seats. I grin against her lips as Kit laughs, light and sweet, full of life.

  Sipping from lips I’ll never tire of, cupping an ass that makes me rock hard, I take what’s mine and then some. What’s better, Kit lets me. Her tits mashed to my abs, I grip the back of her neck and consume.

  Growin’ uncomfortable, Big gruffly clears his throat. “Brother.”

  Fine.

  Fun sucker.

  Discharging an impatient growl, I separate me and my woman to make this official. Kit’s lips are swollen, her cheeks the perfect shade of pink, as her chest heaves for air alongside mine. Knowing we can’t do this boring, hand-in-hand, leave-a-space-for-Jesus-between-us bullshit, I fit us together once more. I’m polite about it. For the families here. Even though I know she can feel the steel length of my cock on her belly as I cuff both hands around the sides of her neck. Gaze locked on gaze. Just the two of us doin’ this.

  “You ready, love?” Caressing the underside of her chin with my thumbs, I make sure, ’cause after this, she can’t back out. It’s done. We’re bonded for life.

  Those expressive, steadfast eyes speak without words. She’s ready. I’m ready. The club is here as our witness.

  Standing tall, as if he isn’t already large enough, Big clears his throat. “Dearly beloved—” he starts, and I cut him a swift, unimpressed stare.

  The asshole winks, far too pleased with himself. “As I was saying…” He clears his throat again and imparts a wisdom only the sarcastic fucker himself could bestow. I ignore the lot of it, too focused on Kit and her amusement at his ridiculousness. The crowd eats his antics up in spades.

  Our vows are simple. A blur of I dos and promises to give her orgasms, ‘cause Prez needs to be thorough. Hers comes after, same as mine. Only sucking my cock is involved, and I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at this level of marital promises.

  “You’re a fuckin’ dick,” I whisper under my breath, only it’s not a whisper. It’s a growl, and Big loves it, as do the brothers.