The simple admission makes my chest ache. "Get used to it," I tell her. "The Shadow Reapers are a family."
Sophie thrusts masks at us—a grotesque demon face for me and a sparkly princess mask for Aria. "Disney princesses for the women, monsters for the men," Sophie explains with a grin.
Aria examines her mask with delight. "I love Jasmine! She was always my favorite."
I slip the demon mask over my head. "Ready to ride, princess?"
Her cheeks flush with excitement. "Ready."
The parking lot fills with the thunderous roar of Harleys firing to life. Forty bikes line up in formation—members and prospects alike, all with grotesque masks, a few have their women seated behind them wearing princess masks.
Ghost leads our procession with Angel behind him, followed by the other officers and their women. As road captain, I take my position on the right flank, feeling Aria's arms tighten around my waist as we pull out onto the main road.
Her thighs bracket mine, her chest is flush against my back, and her breath is warm against my neck. I've ridden this charity run every year since prospecting with the club, but this year is different. This year, I’ve got my whole world behind me.
Our first scheduled stop is at a local tavern—one of the sponsors of our run. The place is packed with patrons and other riders who've come to support the cause. I keep Aria close, my arm around her shoulders as we make our way to the bar. She doesn’t remove her mask.
"What can I get you folks?" the bartender asks.
“Water,” Aria says when I glance down at her.
"Beer for me, water for my ol’ lady," I say, feeling Aria's surprise.
She tilts her head questioningly, but rather than explain, I simply drop a kiss on the top of her head.
We stand in a corner with Ghost, Angel, Saint, and Luna. The conversation flows easily, with the women drawing Aria out of her shell, making her laugh.
I notice the glances Aria attracts from men around the bar—appreciative looks that linger too long on her curves, and a possessive growl builds in my chest.
One particularly bold asshole keeps staring at her ass, even after catching my warning glare. When he raises his glass in Aria's direction with a wink, my patience snaps.
I’m about to teach the dickhead some fucking manners when Ghost's hand on my arm stops me.
"Not worth it, brother," he murmurs.
Aria looks between us, oblivious to the stares. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine," I say through gritted teeth, angling my body to block the fuckhead’s view of her.
Saint catches my eye, understanding passing between us. He nods toward the door. "Time to head out anyway."
I need to get my property patch on my woman asap. Every man in town needs to know who she belongs to—and that anyone who fucks with her will answer to me.
Chapter 10
Aria
"You good, little sparrow?" Hawk's voice rumbles near my ear as his arm tightens around my waist.
I nod, leaning into his solid warmth.
The tavern buzzes with activity—bikers in monster masks—skeletons, ghouls, devils, zombies—mingling with regular patrons. Music throbs through ancient speakers while beer bottles and glasses clink.
"Aren't you hot in that thing?” Luna motions to my mask. Her Belle mask is pushed up to rest on top of her head. “Take it off for a second.”
It is a bit stifling. But there’s a reason I won’t remove it.
Around us, the other club women periodically lift their masks to drink or wipe sweat from their foreheads. No one's paying particular attention to me.
