Page 35 of Shattered Soulmates

I obey, raising my arms slightly. I feel him slip something over my shoulders. Then, taking me carefully by my arms, he guides me a few steps to the side. When he pulls off the cloth covering my eyes, I’m standing in front of the mirrored wall that extends the length of the bar.

Reflected in the glass, I see the entire club watching me. Most of the ol’ ladies look horrified and uncomfortable, while the club girls snicker. The brothers just appear smug. Only Drágon stands apart, detached and unreadable.

“How do you like it, Joyride?” Sledge asks.

My eyes find his reflection in the mirror. He’s trying not to laugh.

Confused by the reactions, I take a closer look at the buttery-soft leather vest draped over my shoulders.Over the left breast, my road name is stitched in clean letters:Joyride.Smiling, he turns me slightly to see the back of the vest in the mirror.It’s covered withthe same club patch as the others: a gang of wolves with skull faces riding motorcycles.

It’s beautiful and would thrill me, except for the words that encircle the patch:

Property of the brotherhood.

NotProperty of Sledge.

Tears come to my eyes as I realize exactly what they mean by Joyride. I cover my mouth in outrage and narrow my eyes at Sledge accusingly.

“Ah, come on, Joyride,” Sledge grins. “You can’t be angry. It suits you perfectly." He looks around the room. “How many brothers have enjoyed Joyride here?" he asks as several brothers raise their hands. He looks down at me. “You can’t expect to be my ol’ lady when you behave like a club girl, now, can you?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come–I have no defense. What he says is true, but I didn’t expect the brothers to mock me openly.

“Don’t look so shocked, Joyride. In this club, we don’t shame; we embrace reality,” he states almost detachedly. “We talk openly, and we know everyone’s business. But in this club, ol’ ladies are monogamous, as are the brothers who have ol’ ladies. They’re true to each other until such a time as they decide to move on, or not. Shared females are club girls, and the brothers who sharethe club girls are not monogamous. Nothing’s really changed; we can still have fun.”

“Welcome to the club,” Drágon interrupts. “Since you’re a club girl, here are the rules.”

He drones on about never approaching a brother, saying I’m supposed to wait for them to come to me.Ppfft!A girl’s got needs, too! Then I hear something about personal cleanliness and health check-ups.He tells me that my status here is voluntary and that I can leave at any time.

But what stops me cold is when he says I’m on the chore rotation chart, expected to help keep all clubhouse areas clean and assist with cooking and serving meals.

“What?!” I finally emerge from my shock. “I’m not a maid or cook!”

Drágon pins me down with just a look. “Joyride, in this club, no one rides for free, and sex isn’t a form of payment. You must pull your own weight or find yourself out on the streets. In exchange, we’ll provide you with food and a bedroom. You’re in the chore rotation; do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” I grit out. I’m too angry to do anything more, knowing that if I don’t keep my mouth shut, my meal ticket and the roof over my head will disappear.

He nods sharply, his jaw tenses as curls of steam hiss from the corners of his mouth.

Chapter 15–Tangled Hearts

Paisley

Since Marissa’s disappearance several months ago, my life has become much easier. I no longer have her or her cronies breathing down my neck, and torturing me. Her mean girls’ club has fallen apart since her former best friend, Hannah’s, brush with CMS. After that, Hannah kicked her husband, Seth, to the curb and is no longer speaking to him. She’s also on a steady diet of Amra.

Speaking of Amra, I have an appointment at the medical clinic for a checkup. Since the drug is still new, doctors closely monitor anyone who uses it, and they don’t yet know all of its side effects. While the drug helps keep us patients alive and pain-free, researchers have not yet determined its long-term ramifications.

I open my cabin door to leave and find Miles standing on the threshold. “M–miles! What are you doing here?” I stammer.

He thrusts a bouquet of flowers at me. “These are for you.”

I step back, holding up my hands. “Whoa! Miles. I don’t know why you think I’d want flowers from you.”

“I just want to apologize,” he pleads.

“Apology not accepted. What kind of desperate idiot do you take me for?” I slam the door in his face and go to the back door. The walk will be a little longer, but I can at least try to avoid Miles, who continues to knock at the front. I cut through the forest behind my cabin and circle through a walking trail when Miles catches up with me. Of course, being a shifter, he wouldn’t have difficulty tracking me.

“Miles, I don’t want to talk to you,” I huff out in exasperation. “Why are you insisting on following me?”

“Marissa–I mean Paisley…”

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