Page 67 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

I cover my mouth and gag.

Ew.

Ew.

Ew.

Ewwww.

“Is that…” I point, swallow thickly, and look away.

“It’s a dick. Yes. A severed cock, just for you. It’s small and wrinkly, but I added the eyes too. See.” Excited to show me the eyes, Rot spins the jar around. Sure enough, there they are—a set of eyeballs with no sockets. They’re dark brown and creepy.

Gross.

“Ted screamed like a little bitch,” Coffin announces as he rounds the coop to rejoin us.

“That’s Ted?!”

“Yep. It took us a while to track him down. But once we did, I paid him a visit,” he explains, stopping beside Rot.

“You did that?” I point to the jar without looking at it.

“Hell yeah, I did. I cut off his dick and his balls while he was still alive. He bled out. It was messy. It was three days of torture for him, but three days of bliss for me. I videotaped it, in case you ever want to watch, to get closure, or whatever.”

He videotaped it for me.

My stomach does that silly, swirly girl thing. “Wait. Last month… When you left for five days, I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

I was worried he was sleeping with someone else. Necro and Rot assured me that wasn’t the case, but Coffin wasn’t taking my calls, and I’d wanted to talk to him. I hate when he leaves for more than a day at a time. Our home feels empty without him.

He reaches over and taps the side of the jar. "I was doin’ this.”

“Why did you keep it?” I ask, even though I probably shouldn’t. The answer is obvious. But I need to hear it anyhow. From his lips to my ears.

“They’re my trophies. Well, yours. I’ll put it with the other one on the shelf.”

“What other one?” I ask, confused.

“The dick Necro cut off last year. The one that… you know…”

Wait.

The guy I threatened.

“You kept it?”

Coffin nods and crosses both arms across his chest. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t we have?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“Any weirder than collecting vaginas?” Rot flashes Coffin a smug smirk.

“They’re not vaginas,” Coffin and I grumble in unison, frowning at Rot.

“Meh.” He shrugs. “Tomato, tomatoe. Close enough.”

That isn’t close enough.

A uterus and a vagina might be female anatomy, but they are not even close to the same thing. Ask a man if he likes fucking a uterus and see what he says.

Wait.

Never mind. I take it back.

Don’t ask that.

From my experience, most men will fuck anything warm, wet, and half-willing. They’ll fuck a teddy bear as long as it makes their dick feel good.

Alright.

That’s enough of that.

I’m stalling with all this icky dick fucky talk because… apparently, I’m getting married today to not one but three men.

Three.

When you’re a little girl, picturing your dream life with your white picket fence, a dog, and a library full of books like Belle with her growly beast, there is always one prince in the dream.

Unless you were into Snow White and her dwarves—If you were, go on with your bad self.

But for me, it was a single man. He would treat me well.

We’d live happily ever after. Nowhere in that dream were there three men, a church, chickens, dead bodies, and severed dicks in jars. Yet, here we are.

And…

I couldn’t be happier.

Wait.

What is it that Elizabeth says to Mr. Darcy? “ You may only call me Mrs. Darcy when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy. ”

That is me.

With them.

Incandescently happy.

An emotional breath wooshes past my lips as I carefully remove the necklace from around Elvis’s neck and drop the ring into Necro’s open palm.

Squinting up at me from the ground, he slips the ruby on my finger.

“Why a ruby?” I ask, admiring the coffin-cut stone as it glitters in the sun.

Pushing off his knee to stand, Necro dusts off his jeans. It’s my favorite color , he signs. Like your hair and the color of blood.

“Romantic,” I tease, grinning at him.

Necro blushes and looks away as if he doesn’t want me to see.

The brothers disappear back into the woods from whence they came, and I return our chicken to the coop to be with her friends.

“Does everyone know what to do?” Rot asks his brothers as he hands Ted’s severed appendage to Coffin, who tucks the jar under his arm.

They nod, and Rot turns to me. Bowing like a duke, he offers me his upturned hand. “Come, my bride.”

Sliding my palm into his much bigger, warmer one, I giggle awkwardly at this entire ordeal as Rot escorts me to his room, where three distinctly different wedding dresses are draped over the edge of the bed.

“Pick.” He sweeps his hand toward the options, and I freeze, my stomach tying itself in knots.

This is happening.

It’s really, truly, happening.

When he notices me hesitate, Rot wraps an arm around my shoulder and urges me forward. “Pick.”

“Why are there three?”

“Each of us chose a dress we wanted you to wear and agreed to let you decide which you liked the most.”

Oh.

That’s nice .

I glide a finger over the first. The fabric is soft and luxurious. It reminds me of Necro’s shirts. Rot plucks it off the bed and holds it out for me.

It’s a rich purple floor-length with a heart neckline and a sexy mid-thigh slit.

To decide which one looks best, I need to try them on, so I undress, and Rot helps me step into the gown and zip me up.

It sweeps across the floor as I twirl, and he snaps a dozen pictures, catcalling. “So sexy. So fuckin’ sexy.” He adjusts himself as I smooth down the bodice to the flare at my hips.

I feel beautiful…Like a badass princess.

On to the next, Rot continues to help, stealing kisses and little flirty pinches along the way.

We laugh and smile, and I’ve never felt more alive yet flustered as the white lace of the second dress hugs my body like a second skin.

It’s see-through except in the places that count—my nipples and downstairs.

Rot licks his lips, walking around me, snapping photos like a high-end photographer. “Holy fuck, that’s sinful.”

He’s right.

It’s downright pornographic.

Sexy and made more for the bedroom or the wedding night than a walk down the aisle. Then again, nothing about our marriage is traditional.

“Who picked what?” I ask.

Shaking his head, Rot tsks me. “I’m not tellin’ you that.”

“Why?”

“’Cause you could be biased. ”

“Why would I be biased? You’re all mine.”

“I promised them I wouldn’t tell you.”

That’s not it.

“You made a bet, didn’t you?” I arch a brow.

Clutching his heart, Rot gasps dramatically. “How dare you. Why would we do such a thing?”

Lips twitching in amusement, I roll my eyes. “How much?”

“It’s not for money. The winner gets first dibs on our wedding night.”

“Seriously? You bet on who’d get to fuck me first?”

Rot winks and flashes me a downright sinful grin. “Hell, yes, we did. You’re a hot commodity.”

Smiling at his ridiculousness, I shake my head and turn around for him to help me out of the lace, body-con dress.

Dress three is a stunning Gothic—black, long, sheer, and dripping in intricate lace, with a plunging neckline straight to my navel. Millions of buttons trail down the back, and it takes Rot ages to fasten each one. It’s a perfect blend between dress one and two—sexy and revealing, but also classy.

Sweeping my hair over my shoulder, Rot kisses just below my ear.

His hot breath wisps across my skin, sending shivers down to my toes.

“This is the one.” He nips my earlobe and backs away to snap dozens of photos.

“You’re a smoke show. So, fucking sexy.” He grips his cock and shoves the erection down the inside of his pant leg.

I blush, twirling like a dark princess.

Rot kneels and waves me over. “Put your foot on my leg and pose,” he orders, patting the top of his knee.

Doing as I’m told, I smile for one, then frown for the next, putting on a show with my pouty bottom lip.

I swap from sinful and sexy to kissy faces and crossed eyes.

Rot laughs carefree as I have fun with our photoshoot until he’s satisfied.

Getting up off the floor, Rot stands beside me and scrolls through the images. “What do you think?” he asks, pausing on the sillier ones.

My pale skin and red hair complement this dress beautifully. The others, though lovely, aren’t me.

This one is.

“This one’s yours, isn’t it?” I ask as he pockets his phone and undoes the billion buttons down my back so I can take the dress off.

“Actually. It’s not. But it’s the best choice.”

“Oh. Whose is it then?”

“Guess.”

Pausing to think, I hum. “The purple one was Coffin’s,” I confirm, looking over at the dark purple draped over the end of the bed.

“The white one was yours. This one’s Necro’s, isn’t it?

” I ask as the garment slides down my hips and pools around my ankles.

Rot picks it off the floor, rests it over the bed, and turns to me.

“Why do you think mine was the white one?” He runs his fingertips down my arms to my hips, where he stops and pulls me to him.

Staring up at my handsome future husband, I loop my arms around his neck. “Because you don’t care who sees me naked. Coffin would lose his mind if I wore that in front of the brothers, and Necro would never pick white.”

A broad smile splits Rot’s lips. “You’re right.”

“About all of them?”

“Yeah. But we’re keepin’ ‘em all. If you won’t wear the white dress to our wedding, you can wear it when we fuck you.”

My stomach dips, loving the idea.

“That sounds like a plan. So…” I step back and clasp my hands together, not the least self-conscious that I’m standing naked in the middle of Rot’s bedroom when he’s clothed. Well, as much as these men ever are.

“We get you dolled up and…” He checks his phone. “We’ve got an hour to do that.”

Leading me into his attached bathroom, Rot dumps bags of womanly stuff on the floor—makeup, hair products, perfume, you name it, it’s here—even things like setting powder. I have no clue what that is, and I don’t care to ask.