The Last Shewolf

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Chapter 15: Biker ceremony

Easter Weekend

I pulled at the waist of the dress, nervously trying to smooth everything down. “Don’t worry, you look great,” Kelly said to me as she pulled my hand away. “He’s not going to be able to move when he sees you. Don’t be so nervous.”

“Easy for you to say, no one will be staring at you,” I said back. She and Teri were dressed the same: tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, long sleeve black T-shirts and their cuts. She continued to plait my long black hair, braiding my bangs into bands that wrapped around to the back of my head. The hair fell to the middle of my back, over the back of my own cut. The lace material hinted at the skin below, and my cleavage was on display with the deep V-cut in the front. I wasn’t wearing a bra since the dress wouldn’t allow it; only some tape kept the girls from popping free accidentally. The dress flared out over my hips, ending just low enough to cover the tops of the white thigh-high stockings I was wearing. Stiletto boots, white with silver accents, finished out the outfit. Finally, Kelly sat back, declaring me to be “absolutely perfect.”

There was a knock on the door. “It’s time to go,” Viper said. The girls gave me a hug and left the room; I could hear the music outside as they left. Viper just held my hands, helping me calm myself until his cue. “I’m glad I took a piss before I came in here,” he said.

“Well, your prostate is the size of a golf ball, it’s no wonder you’re having trouble.” Having a Doctor in the club had been a change for them, most didn’t see one unless they were bleeding or broken. I had converted one of the empty storerooms upstairs into a little clinic, stocking it with equipment I bought on eBay. It was a way to give back to the club and keep my medical practice active. I basically turned it into a private practice; we created a company, ordered the stuff and I even rented the space to make it all official. Prostate checks didn’t get any more fun when the patient thought of you as the daughter he never had, though.

“It’s not funny.”

He was more nervous than me, practically shaking as I held his hand. “OK, I’ve got a joke for you. Neil, Bob and Dick are sitting on a bench outside the old folk’s home. Neil looks at the others and says, ‘You know what I have about getting older? Not being able to take a piss. I get up four times a night, it’s like peeing through a cocktail straw. I’d give anything to take a good long piss again.’ Bob says, ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’ Dick says, ‘I have a good long piss, every morning at six o’clock.’”

“You did those names on purpose!” He laughed a little.

“So Bob says, ‘Well, I’d love to be able to take a good dump. I’m so constipated, I sit in there for hours sometimes. I’d give anything to have a good dump.’ Neil agrees with him, and Dick says, ‘Well, I have a good dump, every morning at six thirty.’ The other guys look at him, all mad, and Neil says, ‘Well, aren’t you just the perfect one.’ Dick shakes his head and says, ‘Not really, I don’t wake up until seven.’” Viper started laughing hard, and I had to join him. Before we knew it, the music outside stopped.

Viper offered his arm. He was dressed like the girls- black jeans and shirt, belt with a silver Harley buckle, his cut, and black motorcycle boots. He kissed my hand before placing it in his arm. “Let’s do this.”

“No crying, Viper. Tough guys don’t cry.”

“Don’t pressure me, I thought I’d lost the chance to ever do this.” We walked out the door and turned past the bar, heading outside through the main doors into the lot. We got lucky with the weather, it was near fifty with a lot of sun and light winds. The white carpet ended ahead of us in the center of the lot, running off to the left.

The aisle was lined with motorcycles, all facing the each other. At the front, a bunch of folding chairs were filled with my friends and family. The music changed when we arrived at the turn. We couldn’t do much normal in this club; instead of Pachelbel’s Canon in D, they were playing “Another One Bites the Dust.” The girls were crying, Viper was barely holding on. I started crying myself, glad the girls had used waterproof makeup.

As we started forward down the aisle, each pair of bikes we passed was started up and revved a few times. We moved slowly, drawing out the moment. I kept my eyes on my Snake as he stood tall, next to Doc and Hammer. On the other side of the aisle, Kelly and Teri stood, bouquets of white roses in their hands. I looked down at the bouquet I was carrying, all white roses and lace, stuck in a Budweiser bottle.

The noise built as we got towards the front, where the last pair of motorcycles was revved up. We stopped just short of a small platform, in front of a sharp-looking Crash. He’d become an ordained minister the last summer, at least that’s what his certificate said, and this was his first wedding to officiate. He was wearing a bowtie, no shirt, his cut and his best jeans. This ceremony was put together quickly; when my heat started coming earlier than I thought, we had to move it up. We’d only been engaged for a week.

Viper raised his free hand, and all the bikes revved at once; when he dropped his hand, they all stopped, and it was jarringly silent again.

Snake stood in his tuxedo shirt covered by his cut, his mouth still hanging open as it had been during my entire approach. His Harley was parked behind the group to the side. “Who gives this babe in marriage?”

Viper said, “I do, in place of her parents.” He leaned over, kissing my forehead, before he gave my hand to Snake. I was led up next to him, standing facing each other as he took both my hands in his. I looked into his eyes, his love gave me the strength to do anything, and I needed that right now. “Dearly beloved, and those just here for the free beer, we are gathered here today to unite Snake and DeWalt in the bonds of holy matrimony. May God have mercy on their souls. Oh wait, wrong page.” The club cracked up along with me. “Marriage is a sacred bond. My Catholic school taught me that the shortest complete sentence in the English language is, ‘I Am.’ Amazingly enough, the longest complete sentence is ‘I Do.’” He carried on for a while. I really wasn’t listening too much, I was staring at the love in my man’s eyes.

“So if any of you think they are making a huge mistake, speak up now or you’re getting blamed.”

“YO!” I looked back, Moose was standing up. “DeWalt, you’re hot, educated and you have your own Harley. You sure you want to tie yourself to this short-ass fry cook?”

I just laughed. “He’s named Snake for a reason, Moose. He tempts me into sin. EVERY DAMN NIGHT.”

“Sit your fat ass down,” Viper said, “You’re holding up the party.”

He sat, and Crash continued on. “You got the rings? Cool. And now for the vows. Do you, Snake, take this hot biker babe to be your Old Lady? To go home with her after every party, to let her ride next to you, to protect her and keep her, forsaking any other hot babes, skanks or sweetbutts for the rest of your miserable, boring-ass married life?”

“You bet your ass I do.” He put the white gold band on my finger.

“Do you, DeWalt, take Snake to be your Old Man? To ride him like your Harley, to take care of his shit, and put some meat on those skinny-ass bones, as your last ex-boyfriend ever?”

“Hell yeah,” I said as I slid the ring on his finger.

“Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Then by the power vested in me by the State of Minnesota, and a two-hundred-dollar check to a sketchy mail-order seminary, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now molest the bride.”

Snake pulled me into his arms, kissing me deeply. Everyone was cheering, and I was hiding my face in his chest as he carried me over to his sled. He got on in front of me so we could take the ceremonial ride back up the aisle. All the bikers pulled out behind me, and we made a single lap of the parking lot before stopping in front of the entrance again.

We entered the clubhouse again, which had been decorated for the reception. It was the wildest party I’d seen there, and there had been some good ones. All too soon, it was time to go. We went up to our rooms, which had been locked tight to prevent the members from doing anything to our luggage. We tore our clothes off, sating our lusts in the shower, before dressing and going out to meet the waiting taxi.

Fourteen hours later, and as newly minted members of the Mile-High Club, we were at a resort in Key Largo, Florida. I had struggled to figure out how to get through my heat without my scent attracting wolves, and when I saw this in a travel magazine, I knew we had to go. The resort, called Jules Undersea Lodge, was located offshore, and the room was accessible only by using scuba gear to reach the airlock thirty feet under the sea. Snake and I had taken classes to get ready; I was renting the place for a week, and from how hot I was getting, the timing was perfect. The owners had already stocked the place with food and drink per our preferences, and all we had to do was get in there.

My first heat as a werewolf would certainly be memorable, I thought, as we stowed our gear and moved into the bedroom. The place was not large, but we wouldn’t need more than the bed, bathroom and small kitchen inside of it. “This place is freaking amazing,” Snake said as he looked out the window at the reef fish swimming by.

I hugged him from behind, our naked skin heating up. We wouldn’t need clothes this week, just food, water, lubricant and a big bottle of Viagra. I reached around his body, my wolf was horny, she wanted her man.

And she got him.

Repeatedly.

When we emerged from the pod a week later, Snake was walking funny but had a permanent smile. My wolf was sated, I was married, and we were heading back home.

I was looking out at the waves, thinking about the decision to leave the Packs behind and just move on with my life. Snake pulled me into his arms as we sat in the boat for the ride back to the dock, not liking my sudden gloom. “Do you regret choosing me, knowing you won’t be able to have children?”

I shook my head. “If I wasn’t in danger, I would kill my wolf and live completely with you as a human,” I said. We had discussed it, then rejected the idea. Since my DNA wouldn’t change, I could still be bred by a werewolf, my scent would still have just enough in it for them to tell if they paid attention. I could still be forced into mating, I just wouldn’t have a mate bond. Without my wolf, I couldn’t sense male wolves or tell when I was in danger. I wouldn’t have the vision, the smell, the strength or the rapid healing. And I’d miss the presence of my wolf in my head.

Instead, I turned to my new Pack for protection and they rallied around me. I had the guys melt pure silver, then pour it into the hollow-point bullets they used. Knives were coated with silver and wolfsbane, both of which would make it much more difficult for the wounds to heal. I’d gotten my carry permit finally; I never left the Clubhouse without a .45 strapped to my waist, a knife in my boot, and at least one of my brothers with me.

I shifted inside now, my wolf becoming a favorite “visitor” to the day care upstairs. The young ones loved to play with me and take rides. Only the full Club members knew what I really was; to the rest, I was a dog Snake took care of for his buddy occasionally.

I didn’t have to work unless I wanted to. The ownership of my old Pack’s property had passed to me as the sole survivor. I sold the land, cashed the insurance check and moved on.

I had a new life with my husband. And I loved it.

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