So a month to the day after Rev had come home from the hospital, we were becoming man and wife. Because we were on a tight schedule, most of the venues were booked up. In the end, the most obvious choice was right before our eyes . . . or at least a mile into the woods. Our ceremony would take place on the banks of tohi a-ma.

When I stumbled over an exposed tree root, Deacon’s arm shot out to catch me. “Easy there, sister. I don’t want you face-planting before we can get you to the altar,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. Behind us, Bishop snickered.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied with a smile.

Deacon and Bishop were not only escorting me to the service; they were also giving me away. Although my father had come through for me when I needed him, he would have never consented to me being married anywhere but in a church, outfitted in a twenty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang dress, with tons of reporters following the ceremony, making him look like father of the year. I didn’t want anything to ruin my day, so I planned on calling my parents from my honeymoon to tell them I had eloped.

When we reached the clearing, the gentle strumming of a guitar floated back to me. As the woods melted into the green grass, the pathway was strewn with rose petals. I couldn’t help smiling because it wasn’t a detail I had asked for. The beautiful soul of my hard-core biker fiancé had added that romantic touch.

As if he could read my thoughts, Bishop muttered, “What a pussy.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “You could learn a little something from your older brother,” I countered.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “No fucking thank you. Hell, Rev’s always been a sensitive fucker, but since he fell for you, it’s like he’s grown a vagina.”

When Deacon snickered, I shot him a death glare before turning back to Bishop. “Let me set you straight on one thing. There is nothing unmanly about Rev, especially not in the bedroom. And you can’t have a vagina when you’re that well-endowed.” At Bishop’s openmouthed, wide-eyed look, I said, “Just in case you’re not sure what ‘well-endowed’ means, it means your brother has a giant dick and knows how to use it.”

I bit back a laugh at how I’d shocked the hell out of both of my future brothers-in-law. With a wink at them, I said, “That last comment was to show you that I’m not too uptown to be a biker’s old lady.”

Both Deacon and Bishop hooted and snorted with laughter. I couldn’t hide my surprise when Bishop reached over and kissed my cheek. “I don’t ever have any doubts about you being a good old lady, Annabel.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you, Bishop.”

Once we rounded the bend of the clearing, I could see all my wedding guests—my new family—standing on the banks of the glittering water. Outfitted in a frilly pink dress, Willow was our impromptu flower girl. She stood next to Alexandra, who held baby Wyatt in her arms. Mama Beth was beside her, keeping a watchful eye on her grandchildren. Kim and her five children were in attendance, including her eighteen-year-old daughter, Cassie. Our newest miracle had come in the form of the beautiful, intelligent girl. She wanted to be Rev’s and my surrogate in exchange for help with paying the tuition to college that her family couldn’t afford. It had seemed almost too good to be true, but after lengthy discussions with Cassie and Kim, we came to see how serious she was about it. So after we enjoyed a few years together as just man and wife, we would take the next step to becoming a family.

My heart skipped at the sight of Rev. Just as I was dressed in a simple white sheath dress with spaghetti straps, Rev wore simple black pants, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his cut. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. He wasn’t a tux kind of guy, and I was no longer couture.

When he caught sight of me, a broad smile stretched across his handsome face, making warmth spread over my body. In a way, it was so surreal that I was marrying a man like Rev—a man I wouldn’t have given a second glance had it not been for my tortured past. As I gripped the bouquet in my hands tighter, I thought of how blessed I was that something so wonderful had come out of something so horrific.

The guitarist began strumming “Here Comes the Bride,” and although we grew closer and closer to Rev, I couldn’t get to him fast enough. I fought the urge to grab up the hem of my dress and start running. When I finally stood before him, I couldn’t keep my hands off him. I threw my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I don’t think we’ve gotten to this part yet,” Rev murmured into my hair.

I pulled back to smile up at him. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m not really complaining.” Rev ran his thumbs across my cheekbones. “You look so, so beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself.”

The minister, an out-of-town Raider road-named Fuzz, cleared his throat. “I think we oughta get this show on the road.”

“You just want to get back to the roadhouse for the beer and cake,” Rev challenged with a good-natured smile.

Fuzz grinned. “Can you blame me?”

I shook my head. “No, we can’t.” I pulled out of Rev’s embrace, and we took our appropriate places in front of Fuzz.

“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here in the sight of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman together in the bonds of holy matrimony . . .”

As we began the official part of the ceremony, I kept my eyes locked on Rev’s. I couldn’t fight the tears that stung my eyes. But they weren’t sorrowful tears—they were tears of pure happiness. A happiness that had been hard won. To the outside world, we were such an unorthodox pair. After all, what bride-to-be received a wedding present from her groom in the form of the death of her rapist and torturer? While Mendoza might have escaped into custody the day that Rev had been shot, he met a horrific end in jail. So horrific that Rev refused to give me any details about what had happened to him before his throat was slit.

Pushing those macabre thoughts out of my mind, I focused instead on the bright future that lay before me as Rev’s wife. The old Annabel was a former debutante who lived in a world of excess in every area but love and affection. While she was ripped violently from that world, she came to find solace and healing among bikers, and a happiness that the old Annabel never knew existed. This was where I belonged.

Don’t miss Bishop Malloy’s story in the next electrifying Vicious Cycle book

Coming soon from Headline Eternal.

For the hundredth fucking time, I felt eyes on me, stalking my every move. Casually, I glanced over my shoulder to take in the crowd. The Raiders clubhouse was at full capacity for a Saturday night. The house band was cranking out tunes, and couples were in the middle of the floor, bumping and grinding. With Rev and Annabel gone to Virginia to visit her family, and Deacon off on a fucking Brownies camping trip (of all things) with Willow, I was the only Malloy in residence.

Even without looking, I could have guessed who was eyeballing me. Three weeks ago, a new mechanic had started at the garage I was working at. His name was Marley, and he was former Army. Once he learned who I was, he expressed an interest in becoming a hang-around for the Hells Raiders. It was a way to prove yourself for moving into a prospecting position. After everything that had gone down with Mendoza, we were looking to bring in a few new guys to steady things until the heat wore off. We were still slowly and surely moving toward being legitimate. Marley appeared to be just the kind of guy we could use.