The floor was gross. My feet stuck to the wooden boards, but everywhere else was kind of clean. The counter was scarred and scratched, behind it were too many bottles of liquor, and three prospects manned it when they weren’t gaping at the strippers who I’d told to fuck off before I’d taken a seat next to Dagger.
In the other room, there was a mass of sofas and chairs. Mostly comfortable, but you sat on them at your own risk. The amount of DNA on there was enough to make me want to puke, but I knew the guys didn’t think anything of it.
For me, I just wanted to Lysol the fuck out of everything. Either that or burn it down and start fresh. Still, that wasn’t my place. Even when Wolfe claimed me as his, I wouldn’t be able to change how the MC worked. Not only because the men would never stand for it, but because I didn’t particularly want to.
This wasn’t for me. Even if my dad wasn’t my dad, even if he’d loathed me and had been waiting to get rid of me for years, I’d still been a princess in the rest of the MC’s eyes. This room was for sweetbutts and clubwhores, adventurous chicks who came in from Rutherford for a dirty night with a raunchy biker, and maybe the odd old lady who got off on the whole exhibitionism shit.
Princesses weren’t welcome in here.
Sure, tonight’s ‘welcome’ had been because of the poison my father had spewed about me, but it was also because women like me weren’t supposed to be in here.
That was a fact of life.
Sure, it chafed me, but also, I didn’t want to see bobbing asses, or tits and pussies belonging to strangers.
Call me weird, but I had four men of my own I’d need to be taking care of in the future—I figured that was enough.
As we stepped past a scene that was like the one I’d seen Wolfe take part in all those years ago, I averted my gaze as we headed out of the common room and into the main foyer.
From here, there were stairs to the upper levels and the bedrooms. Amaryllis was in one that we were sharing for now, but tomorrow, I was going to head into Rutherford and sort something out. I couldn’t stay here much longer, not without her being tainted by the place. She had enough shit to contend with without me adding to the strain on her.
I rubbed my forehead as I thought about my to-do list tomorrow, but I let Flame, who was by my side, shepherd me outside to the verandah that ran around the hotel.
There were swinging sofas that were attached to the porch’s roof, and I plunked myself down on one and stared out at the yard ahead. To the right, there were a hundred hogs all neatly lined up. To the left, there was a patchy lawn that held evidence of scorch marks from previous bonfires.
When my men sandwiched me on either side, I murmured, “I’m going to find somewhere to rent in town.”
They tensed, but Flame was the one who asked, “Why?”
“Because I don’t want Amaryllis seeing the shit I saw when I was growing up.”
“Didn’t do you any harm,” Dagger argued.
I snorted. “I love five men. You want her loving five brothers too?”
A hiss escaped Flame. “Fuck.” Then he grunted at Dagger, “You even spoken to her yet?”
My lips curved, because even though I wanted Amaryllis to start getting to know her fathers, I was also amused by their reactions. Flame, crazily enough, was the one who was most at ease with Ama. He didn’t talk much to her, but she didn’t seem to need him to speak. They just sat together in the family room, him flicking that fucking lighter as he watched cartoons, while Amaryllis played with dolls or read the books she loved.
Wolfe kept trying, but she kept snubbing him—something I’d have to work on with Amaryllis. Axe was a bit like Flame. He sort of hovered, watched cartoons and shit, but his silence wasn’t comfortable. I could see the words bubbling in his mouth. He wanted to speak with her, wanted to talk, just didn’t know how.
I hadn’t seen Dagger around our daughter, but because I knew him, I wasn’t offended.
Flame was particular about certain things, but he was also the most easygoing in some ways. Amaryllis was his daughter, and therefore, he’d sit with her. She didn’t have