Page 46 of Ethan's Sky

Everything about being here makes my skin crawl. Not because it’s dirty, or grungy, it’s quite the opposite. The space itself is made to feel like one giant house for all the members and their families to hangout or live should they want to. It’s not the place that creeps me out, it’s the reason I’m here and seeing all these people I’m so anxious about. Really, it’s the judgement I feel when they look at me. I know I said I don’t care, but I might’ve been lying a little.

They’re not judging you. They’re here for Daddy. Relax.

I mentally slap myself but even I know I’m full of shit. They’re here because their president demanded it of them. I’m not under any delusion about their support. Maybe a long time ago I would’ve believed they were here for me, but not now. Not when Ethan believes the worst of me. They’re here to supporthim.

I betrayed their brother. They’re here as a duty. Their loyalty is to Daddy, my uncle, and Gabe.

Ghost ushers me through the crowded main room, following closely behind Eli, Walker, Xander, Bronson and Cash.The great wall of protectors.Though their loyalty is to their brotherhood, Eli isn’t confident that Ethan won’t try to start shit with me again and has ordered his men to stick close to me, which is doing wonders for my reputation amongst the other men and women here, I’m sure.

The clubhouse party isn’t open to the town, meaning no extra hang arounds or strippers to entertain. Gabe wanted to have a family barbeque and bonfire for Daddy’s final send off. The club girls are still here as well as the ol’ ladies, but everyone is expected to be on their best behavior. Though I’m sure when the clock strikes ten, the party will shift, and it will be like any other Saturday night pig roast.

I’m not interested in watching what these men do in the late hours of the night or who they do it with, so I plan to be long gone by before then.

Eli stops by the bar, which halts our progress to escape the crowd, instead creating a blockade of leather cuts in the middle of the room. It feels as though everyone is gawking at me. Am I the poor girl who lost her father? Or the bitch who burned their buddy?

I’d prefer to be the princess who looked badass running in her Chuck Taylor shoes on the way out of the party.

No such luck.

I appreciate their condolences and their memories of what a great man my Daddy was, but I don’t know half of these people, not anymore. It’s a mixture of club members, their families, and a few trusted friends of the club from around town who knew Daddy.

The prospect behind the bar and the club girl who’s currently sucking him off on the floor barely glance our way when we come up to the bar, clearly preoccupied. Another reminder of why I don’t like being at the clubhouses. Eli’s girls usually make themselves scarce when I’m around, at his orders. After the last incident he felt it was a smart solution…for them.

A whore with her jaw wired shut is only good for a few things. In all fairness, she attacked me first.

I’m not one to judge what another woman does with her own body or time. Some of them are looking for their ol’ man. Others are seeking solace from their own life. Whatever their reasons, the women are very territorial about the club members. Some are even psychotic and delusional in the way they think about them. But for the most part, they cook, clean, and care for the men, and for that reason they see the men as theirs and every other female as a threat until she proves otherwise.

I didn’t prove otherwise.

I’ve never been anything more than a friend to any of Eli’s men. My heart wouldn’t have been in it even if I tried. But I also refuse to cower to anyone who thinks they can threaten or harm me.

I smile to myself at the memory of one club whore’s failed attempt at proving herself by attacking me. I wasn’t looking for a fight, but I enjoyed beating her ass. A little too much.

When the prospect suddenly realizes the man glaring at him in front of me is President of the Mountain Heights chapter, he quickly pushes the skank wearing little more than a black strip of fabric she calls a dress, and a pair of stilettos to the side and pulls his jeans closed. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, shoving her tits back into the top of her dress, rolling her eyes as she huffs. When she spots me, she’s suddenly shooting daggers with her eyes. It’s a warning not to touch ‘her man.’

Ew. Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want him. I’ve seen where his cock’s been.I shudder for the second time. It’s not until Cash’s head meets my shoulder and I feel the shaking of his laughter do I notice the club girl, Melanie, of course Melanie. Her eyes widen then narrow glaring at me. Eli and the other men around me laugh.

Shit. I said that out loud.

She takes me in from head to toe, sizing me up. It’s the same everywhere I go when I’m with the guys. Women see tall, sexy, powerful looking men with tattoos and leather cuts and it’s like their panties suddenly fall off and their bitch-o-meter goes haywire looking to eliminate any possible threat to their chances of getting their claws in one.

Then they see me. “The bitch standing in their way.”I’m not intimidated though. Not in the least.

Funny enough, these men are like obnoxious, overprotective brothers to me. I know all of them too well. Know their personalities, their preferences, and their reputations to evenconsideranything sexual or otherwise with any of them is a hardno.

Except one.

I wonder if his preferences have changed. It’s clear he’s hardened himself to the world around him. Or maybe he’s just hardened himself to me. He seems even more closed off than he was before. But he still had a softer side, one he only showed to me and his sister. The carefree side. The guy who loved to joke around and would do anything to keep his sister smiling.

I’m sure he would rather see me rot in hell, then show me that side of himself again.

If a woman is going to stare me down, the least I can do is give her a once over and at pretend I give a shit about her presence. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to get my eyes to move past her shoes.

Seriously? Stilettos to suck cock.

I roll my eyes at the sight. It’s loud in here, but I need to ask someone the question. I grab Cash’s arm and not so quietly ask, “Why does a woman need the extra three inches of height on her feet when all her work is done on her back or her knees? I’ve never understood the need to wear such shoes in a place like this.” He chuckles at my observation, and shrugs.

“Heels make a woman’s legs look sexy as hell, as I’m sure you know.” He smirks. Yeah, I know. But still…

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