Years later, when he was old enough to ask, I would tell him he came into the world under a fire moon. It was true. Though the scientists would explain it away as a lunar eclipse and the moon passing through the earth’s shadow, Zig and I would always believe differently. Our son, Zachary Taylor DiSalvo Wallace was the blood bond between our two families and bore the strength of both. Of course fire would mark his path.

He was in a hurry to get here, too. After only two hours of labor, Zachary’s lusty cries filled the room. Mama Bear acted as midwife. He’d come so fast, and my labor had been so light, I hadn’t realized how far along I was. Later, Mama Bear would swear it was because Zachary knew he wanted to be born at the clubhouse, surrounded by eleven leather-clad, tattooed uncles who would easily lay down their lives for him. I’d wanted a home birth, I just assumed it was going to be at our home, not here at the clubhouse. It was fitting though and in retrospect, I was glad we were here.

He was one of them. He was part of me.

Later, after Mama Bear cleaned him up, she placed him against my chest. Zig sat beside me, his eyes misted with tears as he leaned in to kiss his son’s downy head.

“He’s got more hair than Elvis,” Zig said, smiling.

He did, too. He had a shock of black, wavy hair that covered his entire head. As I held him, my son rooted and found my breast with ease. I, on the other hand, arched my back in shock as he latched on. Then warmth and calm flooded through me and we both settled into the rhythm.

“Breast man,” Mama Bear said, smiling. “Just like his daddy.” She leaned in to kiss Zig then handed him a pair of sterilized scissors so he could cut the cord. After that, she left us alone, quietly closing the door. Beyond it, she must have told the others the good news. A loud chorus of cheers and profanity rose.

“He’s perfect,” Zig said. “I just can’t believe it.”

“He looks like you,” I said, kissing the top of my son’s warm head. It was intoxicating and I knew I’d never grow tired of it.

“You were amazing,” Zig said. “A fucking rock star, baby.”

“Shhh. Watch your language. My luck the F-bomb is going to be his first word.”

Zig laughed and I did too. A cramp stopped me and Zig’s eyes filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I’m perfect.”

Zachary was too. My little piglet was content to nurse, giving his daddy and me a few moments of quiet that I knew would soon be in short supply.

I reached up with my free hand and caressed my husband’s jaw. I’d married him a month after he asked me on that beautiful beach we called home. My brothers were there. My mother too. Though she might not ever give her full blessing, I knew we had her respect. We also held her purse strings.

Zachary Taylor DiSalvo Wallace was sole heir to his grandfather’s estate. With his ties to the Dark Saints M.C., not even my father’s cousins dared to cause any further trouble. It scared me a little; what would happen when my son came of age? But then those joyful shouts from beyond the wall reached my ears again and I was reminded of the men behind it. Each was blood sworn to protect my little man and I knew we would all find our way.

“I never thought I deserved to be this happy,” Zig said.

I kissed him. “You do. So do I. And so does he.”

Zachary expressed his opinion with a grunt, arching one dark brow against my breast then settling back down to sleep.

“I love you, wife of mine,” Zig said.

“And I love you too.”

“Anything you want, for the rest of your life,” he told me.

Smiling, I settled back against my pillow. The euphoria of the last hour was starting to wear off and I felt content and drowsy. “Let’s just take it one thing at a time.”

But I did have plans. In a few months, when fall rolled around again, I was going back to school to major in business. I would learn everything I could about my father’s companies. It was my dream to make the DiSalvo family legitimate by the time Zachary was old enough to take over. Bear and Zig swore they would support me. With their backing, there was no way my mother or any of the other cousins could bring us down.

“Come here,” Zig said. He gathered the two of us in his arms. Then my big, strong husband kissed me. I felt safe and warm in his arms and I knew he would never let me go.