So, it wasn't a surprise any of the other brothers avoided me like the plague after that experience. They were probably one comment away from getting stabbed in the leg as it was, let alone if they brought me up.
Aureo, new rider or not though, had it lucky.
Afterall—he was dad’s childhood best friend who moved away to be with the woman of his dreams, onlyto crash and burn after some shitty luck with love andkillingcareers. Dad protected him unlike anyone else. Sometimes, I wondered if he’d choose him or me.
I was pretty sure he would choose me, but you never really knew. A brotherhood bond went to depths even I didn’t understand sometimes.
In my defense, no one wanted to lose their virginity to a fumbling boy who masturbated more hours than he slept; let alone one who didn’t even know how to put on a condom correctly. Granted, no one really wanted to lose their virginity in the back of a truck, either, but my options were limited and the opportunity presented itself.
Get it done.
Get it over with.
No societal standards over the stupid hymen.
So, if pretending I wasn’t an absolute masochist was the only objective needed to avoid the wild, mostly-bearded Sister Margarets, then so be it.
They had certainly cock-blocked me enough already.
“And we’re done,” Kane said, his voice gruff as he squinted down at the fresh ink on my arm, inspecting it one last time. Smiling, I eagerly jumped off the tattoo bench to inspect the newest designin his studio mirror. The skin was raw, pink, and heavily abused, but the wolf staring back at me was beautiful. Intricate swirls of blue danced in the eyes of the design, while the rest of the piece remained black and white, matching the other artwork dancing over my skin.
While I had never believed myself to be a spiritual person, I always wondered what it would be like to be reincarnated as a wolf. I wondered what it would be like to betrulyfearless, loyal, and worthy, without being born in the ranks for such a position.
To earn the right of survival instead of being guarded.
I was fortunate to be the princess of such a brotherhood, but as the saying goes: you always wonder about the things you haven’t experienced or don’t have, and then you envy it, anyway.
So, while I would never be a wolf and I would never have to realistically worry about surviving in this life, I could carry it with me. I could carry around a semblance of strength that said I was worthy without my father’s say-so. I could use my smart mouth to portray I was something strong, even if I often questioned myself during the dark hours at night.
I watched as Kane began the steps of his aftercare process, never missing a beat in the routine, smirking in admiration at his own artwork.
It was the same method every time.
Douse paper towels in foaming soap, wipe the flesh until it was nearly raw—maybe a few more times, if he was feeling extra generous that day—and then bullshit around before covering the area with a bandage that hurt like fuck to take off in a couple days.
It was like clockwork.
A sigh of relief escaped my mouth as he started to wipe the cool material against the inflamed flesh of my forearm and my shoulders slumped forward slightly. The skin around the blackened floral design was bright, pink, and hot to the touch.
The cool glide of the cleaning solution was near orgasmic because of it.
I chuckled as I thought about how so many people thought the aftercare process was similar to wiping their arm with sandpaper, when I compared it to the feeling of being doused in cold water after escaping an inflamed house.
Yet again, masochistic tendencies.
Or maybe the general population was just full of pussies.
The lines of pain, courage, and cowardice were all extremely thin and blurry in the grand scheme of things. Plus, if I could call the world overly-sensitive,then I could easily tell myself that nothing wastechnicallywrong with me or my…eccentric outlets.
Earlier that evening, after the wolf design had already been drawn up and we had sipped one-too-many fingers of Irish whiskey in what we calledBirthday Bitch Celebration, Kane and I impulsively decided to add vine work and sunflowers to the already existing Stormed Souls symbol further down my arm. I looked down in admiration with him as it blended into the rest of my artwork beautifully. I was desperate to add any feminine touch to the amount of testosterone that surrounded me, and like always, Kane delivered exactly what I needed.
Plus, I knew when I decided on the addition that my dad, president of the Little Devils MC, wouldn't have any issues with it like he would with any of the other guys who decided to mark themselves with the symbol.
I was a daddy’s girl, through and through, after all.
Looking down in fondness, the florals and smoky design surrounding the infamous skull, holding a lightning bolt under its eye, glared back up at me. I couldn’t contain my smile.
Dad would never let me in the field with the rest of them, but I would always be a member, anyway.
