Mason (Iron Reapers MC #1)

Chapter 19

NINETEEN

MASON

Three months later

Sunlight creeps through the blinds, cutting across the room like prison bars made of dawn. I stir, feeling a weight against my chest. It's her—Carlie, all soft curves and warmth tangled up with me. Today's the day, the big one. My heart's thumping like it wants to bust out and run a circuit around the room.

"Morning, Darlin'," I whisper, brushing away a golden curl from her face. Her eyes flutter open, them baby blues locking onto mine. "Today the day.”

She smiles, that kinda smile that could turn the darkest night into high noon.

CARLIE

Waking up next to Mason, it's like waking up inside a dream I never want to leave. His inked arms are my shelter, his heartbeat the rhythm of my new life. I used to wake to the ticking of a clock, counting down another predictable day. Now, each tick is a thump of adventure waiting to happen.

"Mason," I breathe out, his name a prayer on my lips. "I never knew life... real living, until you came into it." A single tear escapes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming blaze of change he's ignited in me.

"Hey, no crying," he says, thumb catching the runaway drop. "Tears are for the weak, and baby, you're anything but."

"Happy tears," I correct him, my voice a murmur full of promises and uncharted roads. "You taught me to ride through storms, not hide from 'em."

He grins, and damn if it isn't the sunrise itself breaking across his face. "That's my girl.”

"Always," I say, strength filling my voice as I think about the miles we've covered and the ones yet to conquer. Together.

I slip out from Mason's embrace and my feet hit the cool wooden floor, my heart a drumline marching me toward our forever.

Steam curls around me as the hot water cascades, a liquid cocoon erasing every shiver of doubt. This is it—the day I become Carlie Mason, the woman who rides shotgun in life with a man whose love roars louder than any engine. The mirror's fogged up when I step out, but I see myself clearer than ever—strong, fierce, ready.

"Today's the day, Carlie!" Jenny bursts into the room, her energy a whirlwind that could outpace any twister.

“Jesus Christ!” Mason curses, making sure he’s all covered up.

"Jenny," I laugh, wrapped in a towel, my skin still glowing from the heat. I pull her into the bathroom and close the door to give Mason his privacy.

She sweeps me into a bear hug, nearly lifting me off my feet. "You're getting hitched, girl! To the President of the Iron Reapers, no less. You sure know how to pick 'em."

“Oh my God, shut up. He’s literally right outside.”

There’s a quick knock on the door. “I’m heading out Darlin'. Give me some sugar.”

I stick my head out the door and look up at him. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and of course his cut. God, I’m so freaking lucky. Mason curls his hand around the back of my neck pulling me near and presses his lips to mine. Hungry for more, I sweep my tongue across his lips and he opens instantly, dominating the kiss like he always does. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Alright you two! Mason, get out of here, she needs to get ready.”

Mason grins and turns to leave. “See you real soon Darlin'.”

As soon as he’s closed the bedroom door, I open the one I’ve been using as a shield to keep us apart. I didn’t know what I was looking for until Mason. Now I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. And I get to be with him for always.

"Sit down, superstar. Let's get you glammed up." Jenny is all business now, her fingers working magic as she weaves my hair into an elegant style befitting a biker queen.

"Think Mason will approve?" My question hangs between us, half playful, half needing her reassurance.

"Girl, he won't know what hit him. You're gonna be a knockout." Jenny grins through the mirror, her hands deftly applying makeup that highlights my natural glow. "Remember that dirtbag ex of yours? Bet he's eating his heart out now."

"Who?" I feign ignorance, the past a distant speck in my rearview mirror. "All I see is Mason.”

"That's my girl." Jenny steps back, appraising her work with a nod of satisfaction. "You're ready to take on the world, Carlie Meadows. No, scratch that—you're ready to conquer it."

And damn if she isn't right. I rise, a warrior dressed in white, the embodiment of the love and loyalty that's defined my new family. Today, I ride full throttle into the future, and nothing's gonna slow me down.

MASON

My fingers trace the stitched emblem, the Iron Reapers' fiery wings spread across my back. Leather's more than a second skin; it's a testament, a damn creed that I wear over my heart. The brothers crowd around, their hoots and hollers echoing off the garage walls, but it's her face that's burning behind my eyes—Carlie, my soon-to-be old lady.

"Look at you, Pres," Tank slaps my shoulder, grinning like a lunatic under his bushy beard. "Cleaned up nice. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Neither did I, brother." My laugh's a low rumble as I catch a glimpse of my reflection. The man staring back isn't the same one who's spent a lifetime chasing the next thrill. He's got something to lose now, something worth fighting for.

"Suit up, boys. We ride for love today," I call out, feeling the weight of those words. It's a battle cry, a pledge, and every member in the room knows it.

We fall into formation, boots thumping a steady rhythm. My heart's pounding like a drum, each beat a call to the woman who turned my world on its head. Carlie Meadows, the beacon in my storm of chaos.

"Time to make her yours, Pres," Hawk nods, his dark eyes solemn yet fierce.

"Damn straight." I adjust the cuffs of my dress shirt, a small concession to the day's significance. But it's the leather that'll take me down the aisle because that's who I am. That's who she loves.

CARLIE

The fabric hugs my body, whispering promises of forever against my skin. It's a song of silk and lace, an aria for the love-struck and the daring. I stand before the mirror, the girl from before gone. In her place is a woman painted in strength, dressed in armor of white, ready for the ride of her life.

"Wow..." Jenny' voice barely a whisper, her hands frozen on the zipper.

"Too much?" My heart's a wild thing, caged ribs no match for its fierce fluttering.

"Girl, you're perfection." She steps back, tears glistening like morning dew. "Mason's gonna lose his mind."

"Good." I laugh, the sound mingling with my nerves, a cocktail of joy and jitters. "He should know what he's getting into."

Jenny helps me slide on the studded biker boots hidden beneath the layers. They're my touch of rebellion, a nod to the road I've chosen, the path that leads to him.

"Ready to ride, Carlie?" Her smile's a challenge, an echo of the one that first drew me to Mason.

"Born ready." My reply comes fierce and certain, a declaration. Every step I take from here on out is a step toward destiny, toward the man who's as much a part of me as the breath in my lungs.

"Then let's go get you hitched, babe." Jenny loops her arm through mine, steadying me as we head toward fate.

Together, we walk, the beat of our hearts urging us forward. Today, I'm not just becoming Mason Blackstone's wife. I'm claiming my place in a world where loyalty reigns supreme, where family isn't just blood—it's the bond forged on two wheels, under open skies.

And nothing, not a single force on this earth, can hold back the power of that ride.

MASON

The rumble of engines fades as the last of the bikes roll into the venue. Guests mill about, the scent of wildflowers mingling with the unmistakable tang of motor oil—a fitting bouquet for a biker's wedding. Iron Reapers in their patched vests swap handshakes and backslaps, their gruff exteriors softened by the occasion.

"Never thought I'd see the day," one of them mutters, shaking his head with a grin that splits his weather-beaten face.

"Pres tying the knot," another echoes, disbelief lacing his tone like the laces on his boots.

I stand there, at the altar they've rigged up, feeling like a man on the edge of a cliff. The sun scorches down, but it's the heat inside me that's burning brighter. Love and nerves twist together in my gut.

"Steady, brother," a voice rumbles beside me. I glance at Dagger, his eyes hidden behind dark shades, but I know concern lurks there. He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder, grounding me.

"Like riding a new route, Pres. Just gotta lean into the curves," he says, words meant to steel me.

"Damn right."

Her laugh echoes in my mind. The way she looks at me, like I'm more than just a biker with too many miles under my belt—it's like she sees straight through the ink and scars to the man I'm still learning to be.

"Where is she?" I growl low, scanning the sea of faces for one in particular. Each second she's out of sight feels like a mile of bad road stretching between us.

"Patience, Pres. She'll be here." But patience isn't exactly my strong suit.

"Shoulda ridden her here myself," I mutter, mostly to myself, imagining her behind me, arms wrapped tight around my waist.

"Wouldn't have been proper," Dagger laughs, his voice deep.

"Feels like I've been waiting a lifetime to get there," I confess, the truth of it settling in my chest like a weight.

"Good things come to those who wait, Mason. You taught me that," Dagger reminds me.

"Did I now?" I smirk, even though my palms are sweating. "Guess we're gonna find out if I know what the hell I'm talking about then.”

And then, as if summoned by my restless heart, there's a stir at the edge of the crowd. Heads turn, whispers ripple through the air, and every cell in my body goes on high alert.

It's time.

Her blonde curls catch the sunlight, turning to spun gold. My chest tightens seeing her like this—so damn beautiful it hurts. Every doubt I've ever had about being worthy of someone like Carlie gets crushed under the weight of her gaze. She's brave, walking toward me, her expression full of trust, full of love.

"Never seen anything like it," I murmur, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. The outlaw in me bows to the queen approaching. She's my redemption, my wild, unexpected shot at a life worth something more than the next ride.

CARLIE

I reach him, my breath catching when his rough hand takes mine. His touch is familiar, grounding. We turn to face the officiant, our friends, our family—the Iron Reapers watching with fierce pride in their eyes.

"Mason Blackstone," I begin, my voice steady even though I'm shaking inside. "You stormed into my life like a hurricane, all chaos and fire. But you gave me strength, showed me what it means to live, to really live. Today, I vow to ride with you, through storms and sunshine, until the end of the road."

Tears glimmer in his dark eyes, and he clears his throat, squeezing my hand.

"Carlie Meadows," Mason's voice rumbles, raw emotion making it quake. "You saw through the grime and the grit to the man beneath. You're my light, my peace. I vow to protect you, cherish you, and challenge you. To stand by you against any who'd dare try to take this happiness away. You're my ride or die, Carlie. Forever and always."

The weight of his words settles around us, heavy as a mantle, sacred as a prayer. And in this moment, with the dust settling beneath our feet, we are no longer two separate souls. We are united, bound by words spoken from the depths of our beings, in front of a world that never expected us to make it this far.

The officiant's words slice through the charged air, crisp and final. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." A pause hangs, then he smiles, a knowing twist to his lips. "Mason, you may kiss your bride."

My world narrows down to Mason's hands cradling my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks with a tenderness that belies his rough exterior. He leans in, and I'm lost in the storm of his kiss, fierce and claiming, yet whispering promises of forever.

"Damn right," he murmurs against my lips, voice thick with unshed emotion.

The kiss seals our vows, a lock on a future forged in steel and ink. It's a brand, marking me as his, him as mine. The crowd erupts, a roaring wave of cheers and whistles from the Iron Reapers, the rumble of their approval vibrating through the ground.

We break apart, breathless, the taste of each other lingering like a vow. Smiles split our faces wide, joy a living thing between us. My heart thumps, a drumbeat syncing with his.

Hand in hand, we turn, facing the world together as partners, as equals. We step down the aisle, the gravel crunching under our boots, a fitting chorus to the new rhythm of our lives.

"Look at 'em," Mason's voice is low, meant only for me. "They never thought they'd see the day Pres Blackstone would get hitched."

"Proved them wrong," I squeeze his hand, strength flowing from me to him, him to me.

"Damn straight, babe."

The Iron Reapers part like a sea, leather-clad warriors softened by the sight before them. Each hug wraps us in warmth, every kiss a blessing, and the well wishes weave an invisible shield around us.

"Never seen you so damn happy, Pres," one of the brothers claps Mason on the back, the slap echoing.

"Never been happier," he admits, pride in his voice, eyes only for me.

Jenny steps forward, tears glistening in her eyes. She hugs me tight, love spilling from her in waves. "You've found your match, Carlie."

"Found my home," I whisper back, glancing up at Mason, his gaze fierce and protective.