Page 103 of Dark Surrender

Tired.

Drinking icky energy drinks.

Learning about one another.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Dark

After twenty-one hours on the road and no sleep for either of us, we arrive at the house in the middle of nowhere, Texas, and both damn near fall out of the truck onto the gravel drive before shuffling up the old wooden steps to the front door. Some chick with a too-bright smile, in short shorts, and her tits half out, throws open the rickety screen door and waves us inside. “Come on. We’ve got a room set up for ya,” she drawls.

Iris enters before me, and as soon as we’re inside, the fuckers filling the couches in the living room holler an annoying welcome.

“Dark!”

“Brother!”

“Fuck off,” I grunt and flip them off as I tag Iris around the waist so none of these assholes get any ideas. Not that they would. Given two of ‘em are together—Bear, a Texas chapter prez, and his VP, Ghost. They’re a thing. And wouldn’t ya know it, a certain man, who’s datin’ my son Fog, who is too goddamn old for my kid, also happens to be present. Lace.

“We havin’ a gay pride thing I didn’t know about?” I tease, just to give ‘em hell. I’ve never given two fucks who fucks who, or who loves who, as long as it’s legal and consensual, we’re good. ‘Til you start fuckin’ my kid. Then maybe not. But now’s not the time to bring it up.

Sharpening a blade on his lap, Lace rolls his eyes.

Ghost flips me off.

The long-bearded bear of a man groans as he gets off the couch and clasps me on the shoulder. “It’s good to see ya, brother,” our Texas prez greets and offers Iris a kind smile.

“Iris, this is Bear. Bear, this is my old lady, Iris,” I introduce, and Lace whistles, impressed, from his couch as Bear wraps my woman in a hug. Going with it, Iris returns the squeeze. When she’s back in my arms again, she’s beaming. If it were anyone else with his hands on what’s mine, I might be tempted to stab him, but Bear’s only got eyes for one person.

From the couch, Ghost two-finger waves at Iris, and Lace does the same. I roll through the introductions, and the woman from the door whistles when we’re done. Standing at the bottom of a set of stairs, she gestures to them with the sweep of her hand. “Second door on the right. The bathroom is the last door at the end.”

With that, we climb the creaky staircase and lock ourselves in our modest bedroom with peeling wallpaper and a weird-ass doll sitting on a rocker in the corner. I flip that creepy bitch face down before undressing. Too tired to talk, Iris does the same. She sets her wig on the dresser from the 1800s and strips down to her panties. No bra. Just tits and curves. If I wasn’t already half asleep, I’d worship her beauty.

We shut the curtains to keep the sun out and collapse onto the mattress together. Curling up to me, I hook Iris’s leg over my waist. My dick gives a twitch at her closeness, but her yawn keeps him from getting any ideas as she runs her fingers through my chest hair and over my patchwork scars that remind me of her.

I kiss the top of her head. “Sleep tight.”

“You too,” she whispers.

And we do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Iris

Hours later, I wake in the random house, in the random bedroom, and Dark’s gone. Loud voices rise. Not pissed off, but definitely male. Not knowing the protocol here, I redress in the clothes I had on earlier, put on my wig, and peek out the door to see if anyone’s in the hall. When the coast is clear, I tiptoe across an old, moth-eaten rug to the bathroom, take care of business, and when I’m done, I take the stairs to the main floor, where all the noise is coming from.

In the old farmhouse living room, Dark’s standing next to Sunshine and Kali, with their backs to me. The men from earlier are on the couches, and with them are a bunch of other leather-clad men, filling all the empty space, sucking damn near all the oxygen from the room that now smells like a mix of oil, cologne, and the outdoors. A flash of red hair catches my eye. Before I announce my presence, Sola notices me and wraps her arms around my neck in a big hug, which disrupts the entire room, and now everyone’s looking at us.

“It’s good to see you,” Sola cheers, rocking us back and forth, laughing like a kid when she’s probably running on fumes, in that punch-drunk state before your body collapses from exhaustion. Either that, or she’s hopped up on energy drinks.

“You, too.” I giggle and pretend that we aren’t drawing attention.

When we pull back, Rot comes into view, with a shirt on this time, and a leather cut that blends in with the rest of the crew, minus his Kings of Anarchy patches. Dark maneuvers, so he’s right beside me. Another round of introductions is made. Names of men I’ll never remember are shared, and when we’re through, everyone splits into smaller groups to catch up before we get down to business.

The woman we met earlier comes in carrying a tray of sandwiches. The men grunt their approval and scarf them down. Not comfortable standing around a bunch of men I don’t know and definitely don’t trust, I carefully separate from Dark to find a quiet corner. Kali and Sola join me. Rot, somehow reading my body language and our need for girl time, posts up as a human wall to keep us hidden.

“Is Rot the only one here?” I whisper to Sola, looking at the back of her man’s dark head.