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As the revelry hit its peak, Brat whispered, “Stay with me tonight?” Her eyes, glinting with promise, an invitation I wouldn’t dare refuse. How could I say no?
I gave a nod and trailed behind her, weaving through the lively crowd, out into the fresh night air, heading for her cabin on the edge of the lot. Her place, small but solid, stood quiet, like it was keeping secrets of the night’s breakthrough.
Walking into Brat’s place, the contrast hit me hard, the tough exterior versus the welcoming, cozy inside. The main space was warmly lit, scattered with soft furniture that looked like the perfect spot to crash. The walls were decked out with photos of Brat and her Heelz crew, snapshots of the open road, and personal keepsakes telling stories of a life full of wild rides and tight bonds.
That’s when this sleek black cat slinked into view, its green eyes sizing me up, cautious but curious.
“Who’s this little shadow?” I asked as the cat made a slow, inspecting round near my boots, its tail swishing thoughtfully.
“That’s Eclipse,” Brat answered, her tone soft with a fondness. “Been my shadow since the early days with the Heelz. He’s kind of a drifter, roams from spot to spot here. Guess he’s more the club’s cat than just mine.”
Eclipse, all smooth black fur and sharp eyes, seemed to have the same enigmatic vibe as Brat. He stopped his patrol to sit and give me a once-over, head cocked, as if figuring out what to make of me.
I crouched a bit, offering my hand for a sniff. Eclipse gave it a once-over then nudged in, brushing against me, marking me as ‘approved,’ then nudged his head under my hand for some scratches. His purring kicked in, a rumble that filled the room with a sense of calm contentment.
“I guess I made the cut,” I quipped, glancing up at Brat, who was chuckling at the scene.
“Eclipse’s got a knack for sizing up folks,” she remarked, her grin getting broader. “He’s picky about his company.”
After giving me the once-over, Eclipse strutted away, all cool cat style, leaving me feeling like I’d just aced some unspoken test. That moment with him bridged me a bit more into Brat’s life. Felt like I was stepping deeper into her world.
Brat then led me to her bedroom, a place that carried the living area’s comfort into a more intimate setting. The bed was big and looked damn inviting, covered in soft, earthy tones that spoke of real ease and rest. A bookshelf crammed with a wild mix of books showed off her range, from gritty biographies to timeless fiction.
The mellow vibe of her personal space threw me. Brat was more than the tough-as-nails biker chick. She had layers, a softness that didn’t show out in the open.
Catching my look of wonder, she gave a small, knowing smile. “Not what you expected, huh?” she gently ribbed, her voice a calm note in the room’s serenity.
Then she brought out a simple spread of snacks she’d had stashed away, cheese, crackers, and some fruit slices. Feeding me, she showed a caring, intimate side. That straightforward gesture, sharing a meal in her own space, deepened the bond between us, rooting it in the genuine, tender exchanges of daily life.
After chowing down, Brat took me to the bathroom where she’d set up a bath, all surrounded by candles flickering like some calm, shadowy dance on the walls. It was like stepping into a peaceful spot just for us. She waved me into the warm, scented water, and as I sank in, she started kneading the knots outta my shoulders with hands that knew exactly what they were doing.
Her massage was an eye-opener, her grip strong but soothing, ironing out the built-up tension from club dramas and the recent shit-storms. Her fingers talked in a language of calm and care, showing me a side of her I hadn’t fully tuned into yet.
With her working the stress outta my muscles, the tough prez shell I wore started to dissolve, showing the real guy underneath, someone who could actually let go and trust in her touch. I was blown away by how she could flip between being the badass biker brat and this caring, gentle soul.
Heading back to her room, the night wrapped us up in something warm and close. Bringing her to her bed, I felt this deep thankfulness, this love for a woman who could run with a club and still have this soft, caring heart.
Lying there next to her, the idea of marrying her wasn’t just a thought anymore. It was solidifying into a plan. Sure, I’d blabbed to my brothers, but I hadn’t popped the question to her yet. Waiting for her dad to show seemed the right move, to do it all proper, to ask for her hand the old-school way.
As sleep took over, my mind was all on what’s next, on getting down on one knee for Brat, on the life we’d hammer out together. Her cabin, with its inviting softness, felt like a preview of what we could have, a nod to the rich, complex lady I’d fallen hard for.
Drifting off beside her, right in the heart of Heelz turf, I felt an odd sense of belonging. The crazy bash outside, the cheers and the shaky peace deal, all faded out, replaced by the quiet, deep connection of two people finding their peace in the middle of a storm.
Chapter 18
Brat
The weeks that followed were like a dream I never wanted to wake from. The Slayers and the Hell on Heelz grew closer, their former animosity melting away into a cautious but growing friendship.
Every night, Riptide and I met, alternating between his place and mine, our relationship blossoming in newfound peace. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was part of something real, something tangible and warm that extended beyond the confines of club life.
Riptide and I went on actual dates, a novelty in our world where secrecy had once dictated our every interaction. Riding out to secluded spots, sharing meals in crowded diners, we reveled in our fresh freedom to be together openly. I was undeniably, irrevocably in love, each day with him deepening the bond that had formed under the most unlikely of circumstances.
But club life was never predictable. One evening, club business unexpectedly called Riptide away, a reminder of the responsibilities that came with his patch. It was the same night my father, Scar, decided to make his appearance a whole day early.
His arrival was abrupt, him and his crew pulling up to the Roost in a cloud of dust. As always, his presence commanded immediate attention. Dad, with his imposing figure and myths at his back, had a way of filling a room, his authority unquestioned. He was a bit of a legend, and all my sisters were captivated.
Once we were alone, the confrontation that ensued was as awkward as it was inevitable.
