Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
41
WILLOW
Grace is completely unable to stand still. I give her a nudge. “Babe, you're making me nervous here.”
She looks at me like I'm an idiot. “Lo, I've never been the maid of honor in a biker wedding before. I don't know what to do!”
“And I've never been claimed as a biker's old lady, never mind three, but you don't see me dancing all over the place like a five-year-old that's got to pee.” I check myself in the mirror one more time.
I know more of what biker chicks typically wear now that I've been part of the club for a couple of months, but I still chose my own thing. A wedding dress didn't feel right at all, but the bikers wear their identity with them wherever they go, so I tried to find something that'd do the same for me.
In my case, as a writer, that means silky with a book theme. The top is corseted, but high enough that it exposes my midriff, looking like it's made from scrolls of cream-colored book paper. The black belt is plain leather, but then the skirt flares out around my legs, with more of the paper motif. It's like I'm getting hitched in a tornado of book pages. My earrings and belly button ring have little books on them, and the hair pin that keeps my updo in place looks like a fountain pen. And instead of heels, I have high heeled leather boots that are plain black with pretty silver ringlets with cream colored laces to match the outfit.
Kitschy? Yeah, sure, but I was raised by a couple of off-grid hippies after all. If I don't do something that's at least a little bit my own thing, what am I even doing?
I check myself in the mirror one more time. Is it a little bit much? Are they going to laugh? It took a lot of work to put together everything I needed.
“You look awesome,” Grace reassures me. “If anyone comes with a rude comment, they're going to have to fight me.”
I try to imagine Grace up against someone like Jackal or Crank, and I try very hard not to laugh, since she's being supportive.
Paige and Jess peek into the side room where I'm waiting to enter the church, both of them done up in cute skirts, tops and leather jackets.
“You look amazing,” Jess says excitedly. “I love it. I predict that your boys' jaws will hit the floor and then they're going to stand there impatiently while we go through the ceremony, and then we won't see you anymore tonight, as they've whisked you back to the house and are railing you for all they're worth.” She grins wide.
Paige nods. “Jess is right. You're definitely getting railed tonight.”
I glance over at Grace, who's trying to act like she’s not horrified by the frank talk. She knows I'm hitching myself to some bikers, but the outright crudeness around here is something she hasn't gotten used to yet even though I know full well what kinds of books she reads. Maybe if I just have her and Terry over often enough, they'll adjust. They might not even drive home when the shooting starts up here anymore. Probably not, but I guess that's okay.
Paige peeks out the door then back at me. “Alright, you're on. Your men are out there, and they're looking goooood.” She shakes her hand like it's hot.
That makes me even a little more self-conscious. But, no backing out now.
When I emerge from the hall leading to the old sacristy and Hellfire's office, I find them standing by the altar, together with Hellfire himself. Paige was right. Damn, they look good.
Dragon stands tall, his long hair neatly tied back. In biker fashion, in his leathers and jeans, but they're fresh and his leather jacket is newly oiled, gleaming inky black. Under, he wears a black T-shirt but it's got a silver dragon design on the front, vaguely reminiscent of the tattoo underneath. His leather boots are freshly polished and he's let a little bit of a beard grow in that's newly trimmed short. It looks great on him.
Next, Blackout has almost tamed his reddish-brown waves into something neat, but it's not being very cooperative. Just wild enough to make me want to dig my fingers into it and pull him in for a kiss, like I always do. His piercings gleam in the spotlight coming from above. He chose to go with his cut today rather than a full jacket, exposing his powerful arms, and all the gorgeous ink that covers them. I'm already dreaming of them around me for the consummation afterwards.
Because regardless of what Paige and Jess said about me looking good enough to rail, my boys are looking so good that I'm dragging them down to the house afterwards to rail me, no matter what they think. Not that I imagine many protests.