Pagan (The Henchmen MC 8)

"But that is a good meal to start a day with, wouldn't you say?" he asked, standing. "But it's not on the menu today, so let's go get our bagel on."

Feeling weird about being in the compound, especially with Pagan gone, I followed closely behind Cyrus as we walked into the common room where the guys from the night before were hanging around, but so was a new group.

One was tall and lean, dark-haired, green-eyed, everything about him seeming to hum with authority. "Kennedy, this is Reign," Cyrus said, happily making introductions.

Reign's eyes went to my cheek, jaw going a little hard, but he nodded at me. "Babe." That was all I got.

"And this is Wolf," Cy went on, motioning to the man beside Reign. He was a giant. Truly, I think he was descendant from them. He was tall and wide with dark hair, a full dark beard, and haunting honey-colored eyes.

Like Reign, he stiffened at seeing me. "Woman," he ground out, jerking his chin, then, oddly, disappearing out the back door with a slam.

"Don't mind him," yet another male voice said, drawing my attention to a tall, lean, tattooed man with half of his head shaved to peach fuzz and the other half with long blond hair. You didn't see it at first because of the hair color, but if you looked closer, it was in the bone structure and the eyes. This guy was Reign's brother. "He doesn't like seeing women with bruises. I mean, none of us do, but Wolf takes it personally. I'm Cash."

"Kennedy," I said, giving him a small smile, glad that he was a little less intimidating than the rest.

"We're getting our breakfast on," Cyrus announced, holding an arm out to a door that led into the small kitchen. "They're a lot to take in all at once, but everyone here is harmless." At my brow raise, he smiled. "Okay, they're all lethal weapons actually. But they would never put a hand on you. First, because they are good men and don't do that kind of thing. Second, if they even thought of it, let's just say that what Pagan would do to them is enough a deterrent. Syrup shit?" he asked, holding out two bottles of syrup- one caramel, one mocha.

"Ah... I guess I can try the caramel," I said with a smile, almost feeling a little spoiled since I never indulged in things like flavored coffee.

"Alright, don't worry, I got it," a voice said, coming in. I had seen him before. He had been there the first night of the party and also the night before when I came in, but I hadn't spoken to him yet. He was tall and a sturdy strong with very attractive Puerto Rican coloring, a chiseled jaw, sweet brown eyes, and a smile that revealed a hint of a dimple to one side.

I looked at Cy who looked as equally confused as the man brought out what I recognized as a leather cut since literally everyone around the compound wore one.

"I don't understand," I admitted, watching him.

"See, this is an MC, mami," he explained, the smile in no way lessening. "And there are all these ridiculous rules about things like this. Really, it's completely antiquated, but you need to wear this."

"I need to wear a cut?" I asked, face scrunching up all the more.

"Not a Henchmen cut per se," he said, taking it and turning it. And, sure enough, instead of The Henchmen name in patches there, there were patches that spelled out something else entirely.

And that something else, oddly, made my cheeks heat a little.

"Property of Pagan?" I repeated out loud as he held it out for me to take, which I did.

The man rolled back on his heels, nodding a little resignedly, exhaling on a sigh. "I'm afraid so. Old ladies have to wear them."

Old ladies.

That, I was pretty sure, meant a biker's girlfriend or wife.

But I was neither of those.

I looked over at Cyrus, finding his eyes light, his lips twitching. "Really?" I asked him.

"Roderick wouldn't steer you wrong," he said, shrugging, making me feel oddly out of the loop, like they got something that I didn't.

But I did understand that in an MC, in any kind of criminal enterprise really, traditions were really important. Rules needed to be obeyed. With who I was pretty sure was the MC president in the other room, I really had no place to object.

I took the material and slipped it on, maybe finding a small bit of comfort in it because the leather smell was one I was familiar with. It clung to Pagan's skin.

"Anything else I need? Ear tag? Cattle brand on my ass?"

To that, both Cyrus and Roderick let out a laugh. "You're gonna fit in just fine here, kid," Roderick said, despite maybe only being a year older than me tops.