Some of what Mars was saying penetrated the thick gloom of grief that had overtaken Major. Juanita, for all she’d come to mean to him, hadn’t overtaken his world. Sure, he’d pushed aside his duties to the MC for her, had fucked her knowing she was an enemy of the club, and had snuck around like a teenager with a date his parents didn’t approve of, but he hadn’t been able to seal the deal.
Bonding her had never been an option.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out when Mars’s words hit more than home. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just get your head in line, okay? No one needs to know about this. We’ll keep it between ourselves, but Major, you need to get your shit together, okay? We need our healer back on top form.”
Nodding, Major rubbed at the back of his neck and decided a change of subject was in order if he wasn’t about to start bawling in the corridor. That it was even a possibility had him tensing up. “What’s wrong with Christie?”
Mars, sensing how on edge Major was, just said, “We don’t know yet. She’s been transferred from the ER to a ward, so that has to mean something, right?”
Major shook his head. “Not necessarily. You know human hospitals don’t have much of a clue what to do with Shifters, never mind humans mated to a Shifter, and even worse, carrying one too.”
“Yeah. I know. I was just trying not to think of that.”
Major grimaced. “I should have been there.”
“Yeah, you should.” Mundo, Christie’s mate, appeared from a doorway. “But then, Christie should have gone to the OB/GYN like she’d been telling me she has.” Mundo ran a tired hand through his hair. “This is all kinds of fucked up, brothers.”
Mars and Major convened on him. Major brought him into a swift one-armed hug, and said, “She’ll be okay. She’s carrying a Shifter. You know how tough we are.”
“It’s not the cub I’m worried about. It’s her.” He rubbed his eyes, digging in a little too hard. “You know how delicate humans are.”
“I heard that!”
The holler came from behind the closed door and had both men snickering in amusement. Mundo grimaced, but it turned into a reluctant grin.
“I thought she had a super nose, not super ears.”
“Yeah, me too.” He opened the door and to the room at large declared, “You can bitch at me when I’ve forgiven you for not taking care of yourself.”
“That gives me, what? A thousand years penitence? Jesus, Mundo. Pregnant women in Africa don’t have OB/GYNs.”
Mundo’s mouth dropped open, then sputtering, he managed to roar out, “You can’t seriously be using that shit as an excuse? We’re in fucking Houston, not Downtown Nigeria.”
“Nigeria’s a country, not a city.” Christie’s prim response was almost amusing. Well, if it wasn’t for the importance of the topic at hand.
Hell, screw that, it was still funny as fuck.
“Do I look like I give a fuck about semantics?” Mundo growled.
Mars approached the door, and when he didn’t rear back at Christie being in a precarious position—legs spread or some shit that could trigger Mundo’s bear—Major joined him. She looked sweaty, tired, and uncomfortable, but relatively okay, if a little too pale for comfort.
“Sir, it really would be better if you watched your tongue. The staff—”
Mundo held up a hand. “My saying ‘fuck’ isn’t stopping you from doing your job. If you had a mate like mine, then you’d be saying ‘fuck’ a lot more too.”
“I take offense to that,” Christie immediately retorted.
“Oh, you do, huh?” Mundo snarled, stepping forward so he could loom over her. “You can take all the offense you want.”
She glowered up at him then surprised the hell out of them by jumping up, hooking her arms around Mundo’s neck, and kissing him. Literally, an eating-his-face-off kind of kiss.
As the doctor and his attendants gawked, Major and Mars looked at each other with wry grins. Then, under his breath, Mars murmured, “That’s a mate bond, buddy.” He clapped Major on the back and maneuvered him out of the room, leaving the ‘happy’ couple in privacy.
Despair tried and failed, then tried again to overcome him. On the brink of potentially losing their cub, all that mattered to Christie and Mundo was the connection. Their bond.
A shudder shivered down his spine. “I know what you’re saying.”
“And I know it hurts, but that ain’t why I’m saying it. You get me?”
Major nodded. Trying to dislodge the dagger that felt like it had been shoved in his rib cage, he let Mars hook an arm over his shoulder as he dragged him down to the waiting room where all his brothers had gathered to wait on news of Christie’s status.
When the door opened, revealing a motley crew and a barrage of noise, Major had to smile.
He might not have a mate, but he did have family. Thank the Goddess for that.
Chapter 2
Pip wiped the counter top down for the thousandth time that minute.
Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but still, she knew if she didn’t stop soon, she’d wear the Formica out. But the couple breaking up at one of her tables was fascinating.
The woman was so calm and cool, so utterly collected as she broke her boyfriend’s heart. The guy was crying, literally crying in front of everyone at the small diner off the main highway on the edge of Channelview, Houston.
She’d never seen a man cry, save for on TV or at the movies. The men in her family wouldn’t shed a tear if they accidentally lobbed off a hand. They’d probably holler louder than the hounds of hell and curse a blue streak while demanding a crate load of whiskey to soothe the little ‘ache’, but that was pretty much it.
And that was her childhood. For most of her adulthood, she’d been around bikers. Not only bikers but Shifter bikers, and everyone knew how hard-core they were.
Peering at the couple from the corner of her eye, she tried not to be obvious, but hell, she was fascinated. They had all her attention and then some.
It was just a good thing that the other patrons were equally as mind blown. She hadn’t been disturbed for the past ten minutes, and the diner was so quiet, a pin drop would have been like a satellite tumbling to the ground.
The woman was obviously heartless. She had to know the diner was watching, hell, listening to every single thing they were saying. It was better than a goddamn soap opera!
Eventually though, someone spoiled her fun and hollered, “Pip, I need more coffee.” She trudged out from behind the counter, coffee pot in hand, and walked to the back of the old-fashioned eatery. Passing tables that had seen better days twenty years ago, she eyed the salt, pepper, and sugar shakers to see which needed refilling, and eventually made it to the bottom table. By the time she’d made it back to the counter though, the couple were on their feet, awkwardly hugging one another.
The woman departed, leaving the man to foot the bill. Pip watched aghast as he pressed his arms to the table then dumped his head on them.
When his sobs grew embarrassingly loud, she approached him with the caution a zookeeper would a wounded lion. “Sir? Is everything all right?”
“My life is over,” he wailed, flinging his head back and sending snot spraying all over the table.
Trying not to grimace at how gross that was, and trying not to empathize with his ex-girlfriend, she murmured, “Tea makes everything better.”
He snarled. “You think a cup of tea is going to bring Helen back?” He jumped to his feet, hauled out his wallet, dumped two twenties on the table, then stormed off.
Mouth agape at his rudeness, she pocketed the two twenties. Hey, he could be rude all the time if he left twenty-five dollars as a tip. She gawked at him as he left and knew the rest of the diner was too. Only when his car, a swanky red Maserati that had no business being in this neck of the woods, swerved out of the parking lot did the diner return to business as usual.
She heard a lot of, “Woo-ees” and, “Jesus, Ma
ry, and Joseph that boy could weep!”
Like she’d said, men didn’t often cry in these here parts, and certainly not in public.
Now her entertainment had disappeared, she made swift mental notations on how she could use what she’d seen in one of her books.
She’d been writing romance off and on ever since she’d left behind one chapter of her life, intent on starting another.
As a bunny, aka club whore, at the local MC, The Nomads, Pip’s life had consisted of fucking and cleaning. When the old Prez had died suddenly, there’d been a swift housekeeping, and most of the club whores had been flung out on their asses. She’d left before that could happen and had watched most of the fallout.
She felt sure if she’d asked the current Prez, Mars, to stay on rather than leave, he’d have let her. But she’d wanted to go. She’d spent too many years at the MC. Too many years pining for what she couldn’t have.
Old ladies weren’t uncommon in regular MCs, but in The Nomads? It was a different kettle of fish.
The brothers were Shifters, and each of them had a mate that was fated to them from birth. In the MC, old ladies were synonymous with mates, so there was no hoping or praying on a club whore’s part that she’d take the eye of a brother and suddenly be ‘promoted’ to a better status.
A woman was either a mate or she wasn’t.
It was simple and as fucking heartbreaking as that.
Still, that heartache had been the inspiration behind her writing. She’d never really done it before, not outside of the few English classes she’d taken, but how could she not write romance when that was her background? Men and women, fated together, soul mates… They didn’t exist in human society, but for Shifters, it was a whole other ball of wax. And with that for inspiration, she’d gotten started and had discovered that expressing her feelings on paper, even if it was of the electronic variety, had helped her grieve.
That was why seeing the man openly express his emotions had fascinated her. She had plenty of experience with heartache but all from the female perspective, never the male. She knew she’d be introducing that into a character very shortly.
Feeling a little wicked because she was playing God with her characters, Pip let her mind drift as the lunch rush came in and went. She was the only girl on staff today after Agatha had called in sick, but Pip didn’t mind. She needed the money, and the extra tips always came in handy.
As the lunch rush died down, the bell sounded on the old rickety door. It didn’t usually gather her attention, but she glanced over because preceding it had been the roar of bikes, and in these parts, that only meant The Nomads were on the road.
Seeing a whole bunch of them step in, old ladies clinging to a few of their arms, she smiled in welcome. “Guys! It’s great to see you again!” Though the clubhouse was close, they rarely came to the diner. They stuck to their territory, eating on the premises, staying away from humans as much as they could.
To a raucous cheer, she was swept up in hugs and kisses, some a little more intimate than was strictly proper at this time of the day, but she’d known these men for years and had loved them, in her own way, for just as long.
Mars grinned down at her as he tucked an arm about her waist and dragged her close. “How’s the waitressing treating you, sugar?”
“Better than you’ll be getting treated later,” she retorted quickly, spying the daggers his mate was shooting their way.
He guffawed. “Baby, you ain’t jealous of Pip, are you? She’s my bud. Always has been, ain’t ya, Pip?” He winked down at her, and she could only respond as she usually did—with an eye roll.
Somehow, that seemed to soften Annette’s annoyance. Obviously, the other woman knew what Pip had been to the club and didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about her past, and she wasn’t about to apologize for it.
Sure, she’d seen Mars in the buff, but he wasn’t her mate. There was no way their rudimentary connection, even though it could be considered friendship, could ever compete with the mate bond.
“Put the poor girl down. She doesn’t have to be manhandled by you lot anymore.”
The snark to her tone had Pip’s eyebrows rising in surprise. Maybe she’d misinterpreted the other woman’s look. It sounded more like she was disgusted that the men had used her rather than the fact she’d once had a job title called ‘club whore.’
She smiled at the woman, sensing a bit of female camaraderie buried there.
Pip doubted Annette would remember, but Pip had been there when Mars and she had first met. She’d seen the explosive way they’d kissed one another, how they’d had to fight to keep their hands to themselves until they’d nearly started fucking in the parking lot.
Pip had been, and still was, utterly jealous.
She’d spent years at the MC clubhouse praying to be one of the brothers’ mates, but it had never happened. Sure, she’d fallen for one of the brothers, just in a regular human-love kind of way—a way that meant jack shit to Shifters—and that was why she’d gotten out of there.
Bashing her head against a brick wall did nothing but cause a shitty migraine and give her bruises no amount of foundation could cover up. She’d done it for years, had suffered the indignity for just as long, until one morning, she’d woken up and known she couldn’t do it anymore.
Like a key turning in a lock, she’d known she had to get out of there, go cold turkey and try to find a life for herself that didn’t revolve around Shifters—one in particular she could never have.
“I’m glad to see you’re happy, Mars,” she told him as she reached out to squeeze his arm and Annette’s too. “Even happier that you’re now the Prez!”
“Christ, how long has it been since I last saw you? I figured I’d been in and split with the deets before now.”
Her lips twitched. “Nope. Some of the brothers swing by from time to time. They keep me up to date with all the gossip.” She smiled at him and meant every word when she said, “The MC couldn’t be in better hands.”
Mars grimaced. “I don’t know about that…”
He carried on speaking, but for some reason, the words that she’d been processing moments before were suddenly impossible to absorb.
It didn’t make sense. Her attention was focused on the Prez. He was blocking her view to anyone other than his mate. But still, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, and she was left gasping for breath.
“Pip?” Annette asked, concern lacing her tone. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, dazed, only hearing the other woman when Annette grabbed her arm and rattled her a little. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.”
Annette studied her with a puckered brow. “Are you sure?”
Gulping, Pip confessed, “I think I am.”
Mars scowled. “What’s wrong?”
“She zoned out when she was talking to you. Now, you can be a bit of a windbag sometimes, but you’re not that boring,” Annette told him, smirking when Mars growled.
Pip blinked at the sound, trying not to flinch as the Prez’s bear made himself known. Whenever she’d heard that sound before, she’d always been quick to head for her room and back the fuck away from any common areas in the MC.
It usually meant a fight was about to break out.
Of course, that wasn’t going to happen in the here and now. Mars had growled at his mate, who was grinning cheekily at him by way of response.
“What’s up, Pip?”
The voice had her stomach twisting, wrenching to the left and to the right, shaking the meager contents around until she felt like she could puke.
“Major,” she whispered, turning around to face the man who had long since held her heart and hadn’t given a damn about her in forever.
Only problem was, when she turned around, she realized he was the reason why she couldn’t breathe.
She blinked at him then watched him blink at her.
The two of them just stood there, gawking at one anot
her until Annette nudged her. “What’s going on?”
Mars cleared his throat. “Pip. Are you okay, honey?”
She’d never told anyone about her love for Major, not outright anyway, but Mars had always been an intuitive SOB. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn that he’d known all along about her feelings for the Clan’s healer.
Only trouble was, she couldn’t reply to either the Prez or his mate. Her tongue wouldn’t work, and her voice box appeared to be broken.
Maybe they sensed that, because they turned to Major, both of them making verbal demands that he seemed as incapable as she of answering.
Dear God, he was gorgeous.
It had been nearly nine months since she’d seen him last. Nine hellishly long months that had nigh on killed her with the distance she’d purposely placed between them.
It would have been as easy as pie to return to the MC, to become a club whore again and to fit right back into the slot she’d left. Sure, she’d have to fuck the brothers she didn’t want, but it would have been worth it to have Major again. To be close to him. To see him.
At least, that was what her heart had told her. Pip didn’t know why, but she’d actually listened to her brain rather than that traitorous organ. So even though she’d wanted nothing more than to return to The Nomads, she hadn’t, and she was making up for being starved of the sight of the man she loved by staring at him now.
His hair was short—shorter than most Shifters who tended to wear it to their shoulders. He had it nearly in a buzz cut at the sides but a bit longer on top. It was flicked back and over his head in a gelled quiff that might have looked a little too ‘rebel without a cause’ if she didn’t know for a fact he was actually a rebel with a cause.
His eyes were emerald green, and they offset his dusky blond hair and tanned bronze skin to perfection. He was a foot taller than her, and she’d always loved how little she felt in his arms.
Pip was not a small woman. She had curves on curves, which was unusual for a club whore. The rest of the girls when she’d been there had been skinny bitches, most of whom had slated her for daring to be over a size ten. It hadn’t stopped any of the guys from visiting her or grabbing hold of her curves and claiming her for the night. But to feel so tiny was a real luxury, and in Major’s presence, Jesus, she felt like a little doll.
MAJOR (MC Bear Mates Book 5) Page 2
