Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(120)

I would make sure they didn’t have the same end.

Though, arguably, my end was not bad.

After that day in the club, it was. Bad, that is. Burying Scott was hard. Horrible. I’d never had many friends, so it hit me hard having to watch one be put in the ground. I had nightmares for months after that.

Gabriel was always there to chase them away, the ones that could be, at least. The ones that couldn’t, he showed me how to live with them.

Rosie disappeared.

The day of Scott’s death. Right after she’d called in the cavalry, she just slipped off. Gabriel and I had been kind of busy and hadn’t noticed.

Cade flew off the handle, until he got a call that she was okay, just ‘on vacation,’ whatever that meant.

I thought it might have a lot to do with the look she’d shared with Luke and the shit that went down.

He didn’t bother the club for the four months he stayed in town, not even a parking ticket.

Then he left.

L.A. was the rumor. I reckoned he was on the hunt. For Rosie. At least I hoped. I missed my friend. I wanted that insane chick to have her very own f*cked-up happy ever after. And if it was with Luke, you could guarantee it’d be f*cked-up.

I missed my friend but I had a lot more that were equally as crazy, in different ways. I found my place with them.

And two weeks ago, Gabriel slid a glittering black diamond on my finger. “You’re not arguing with me on this or I swear to God I’ll pay off a judge and let him marry us while I have you cuffed to the bed.”

So I was engaged. We weren’t married yet but Gabriel already had a black band tattooed on his left finger.

“You’re meant to wait until it’s legal for that,” I pointed out, my voice shaky after he’d had it done.

He yanked me to his chest. “I’m an outlaw, baby. We spit in the face of laws.”

So apparently, in outlaw world, we were already married.

Though Gwen, Lily, and Amy would have heart attacks if we didn’t have the wedding. They were already planning it.

I had no input in anything, apart from the dress.

“Black?” Gwen had cried. “A black wedding dress?”

I nodded.

“But it’s traditional to wear white.”

I quirked my brow at her. “Babe, anything about me look traditional?”

She gave me a once-over and grinned. “You’re right. Black is perfect.”

So there was that.

I wasn’t cured, or free. I still struggled every day. Had a standing date with Gage every single week to go to meetings.

I was seeing a shrink too. Lily had to half drag me to the office, but even someone as stubborn as me knew that having a panic attack at the sight of a stuffed f*cking bunny meant I needed to subject myself to serious therapy.

I couldn’t be afraid of f*cking bunnies. So I went. And hated the first session. Hated that I spent half of it sobbing like an idiot, while Jonathan got his hands dirty reaching into my head. But I was getting used to it. Jonathan wasn’t a bad dude either, as far as shrinks went.

I still had nightmares. Half of me was still cloaked in black. But I was learning to live with it. Embrace it.

Which was what I was doing at the tattoo parlor—embracing the last of it.



“Finally,” Gabriel bellowed as soon as I closed the door.

He almost pounced on me before I’d even put my bag down.

“Down, tiger. Did you get into the sugar while I was away?”

He ignored me. “Show me,” he demanded.

Apparently I wasn’t quick enough because he snatched my hand. Though his touch didn’t match his impatience. It was gentle, unhurried, reverent.

He turned my arm over to reveal the last piece in my sleeve covering my forearm.

Gently, he pulled off the plastic wrap protecting the fresh tattoo.

Then he froze.

The last piece of my fairy tale was my prince charming. Of course, that’s how they all ended, didn’t they? The man coming in to save the day.

Though Rosie and I had kind of turned that one on its head.

Half of my tattoo was the chiseled jaw, floaty-haired, Abercrombie prince, riding his steed and brandishing a sword. The other half was a sharp-jawed, tattooed biker with no hair in sight. He wasn’t riding a steed but a Harley, and his hands gripped a semiautomatic weapon instead of a sword. And no finery like the other guy. His leather cut was clearly visible thanks to the fact that Lex was a f*cking magician.

He stared at it for five full minutes without saying anything.

“Does it hurt?” he asked finally, his voice thick.

I met his eyes. “Always,” I whispered. “But it’s the best kind of pain.”

“That…. Am I the hero or the villain?”

“You’re both,” I replied. “And neither. You’re my damnation and salvation. Because you didn’t save me. I wasn’t looking to be saved. But you gave me life. A home in the darkness. And in my opinion, that’s better than any happy ever after anyone could ever get.”

He pulled me into a savage kiss, proving for hours, and years, to come that he was in no way a hero. And that he was. My hero and my villain. My damnation and salvation.

And I was totally down with that.



The End