Crystallised snowflakes drift mellifluously on the frost lipped breeze. Branches tap eerily on the bar window. I stare out of the window which is fringed with frosted lace and watch the darkness descend on the world.

I'm desperately trying to drown my loneliness in alcohol- not that it will ever work. I've tried this technique for years, I considered getting a pet or something but I knew it would be a poor substitute for an old lady and a family.

Seeing my parents so happy and in love never bothered me in my childhood...until I desperately craved loving someone that purely.

No one special has ever wandered into my life- a high school crush here and there. But they always ended the same way, with snotty judgement at my father's habits and my postcode.

The women in my town like to believe they are above our lifestyle, they like to believe we are illegal and reckless. We do arms deals mainly, ironically mostly to the military.

Admittedly, we do have the odd brawl with a rival gang but that hasn't happened for a while, especially after I took over for my father when he decided to spend more time with my mother. Since the reckless, unpredictable president took his place, other presidents don't seem quite so keen to start a war with me in charge.

A thick heavy fog of alcohol and sexual frustration coats the air I breathe in. It sits heavy on my chest as I signal the prospect to refill my glass. Even though it's late and my brain is foggy with sleep and drink, it's not numbing enough.

I believe it's around 3am, or at least that's what time it was when I last picked up my phone. In all honesty, days could have passed in this hazy coma.

"Alright Bear?" My Vice President, Viper, shouts over the din of rough voices and stripping music as he pushes his way through the crowd.

I nod my head tightly, I may lead this MC, but I have never been one for words. Actions always speak louder anyway so why bother saying words you can't promise or prove?

My brother plonks himself beside me and begins to bitch about some old woman who nearly took him out with her car.

"I'm telling you bror, I wasn't even speeding or anything." He desperately tries to convince my skeptical gaze, but it doesn't work. He always speeds. 'Live life on the edge, it's too fucking boring otherwise' is the catchphrase Viper lives by.

He has that motto tattooed on his back from a dare he lost to me. Viper and I have been raised together, we were wild teenagers and a lot of alcohol and bad decisions lead to that tattoo on his back.

"Crazy old bitch just had it out for me!"

"I tell you what bror, you let me know the next time you're terrorised by a geriatric woman, and I'll sort it out for ya." I can't help but tease him, especially as the thunderous frown darkens his forehead.

"Fuck you Bear!" He snarls playfully as he downs another glass of whiskey and begins to eye one of the women wandering around the bar in skin tight jeans and a crop top. She's got a sweet face and long blonde hair, exactly what Viper looks for in a good lay.

"Take it easy there bror or you won't be able to get it up soon." I warn as he tips his head back and downs another shot glass of vodka.

He thumps my back at the crude joke and tells me to piss off quietly. His eyes once again take in the women wandering around the club, I can tell he still has his eye on the rosy cheeked blonde.

True to form Bolt has already snagged the tallest blonde in the bar and has her sitting on his lap. She looks delighted to have earned the attentions of the renowned Hellhound, little does she know it won't be longer than a half an hour affair, I doubt she'll even get into his room.

Deciding I've had enough for the night, none of the girls were doing anything for me, as always, and the alcohol consumption in the premises had made a decent conversation with any of my brothers impossible, I stand and slap Viper on the back.

"I'm heading out."

"You sure brother? The girls are just getting started." He winks as he gestures to the strippers on the poles before him.

"Yeah I'm sure, have fun Viper. Don't drink anymore though if you want to have some proper fun tonight."

He smirks in agreement to my comment, he is definitely planning more fun than just knocking back booze. Unlike my other brothers, I just want to get out of this bar.

I want my bed.

The hot air is stifling and panicky, plus the place is crawling with club... shall we say 'entertainers'. And whilst I don't speak for the rest of my brothers, I certainly won't risk contracting something from any of them for a half arsed burst of relief.

I need something more than just pussy, I need the intimacy that comes with a bond as well. I've never actually voiced that opinion to anyone but my father, however, I am fairly sure that my lack of interest has already clued my club brothers into the truth.

Walking out the club doors, I inhale the frost spiked air as I take in the surroundings.

Canadian winters always smelt of home, of Norway with the frosted coated pines and a sense of eerie silence waiting to be broken. After my father had several unjust runs in with the police my father decided to relocate to a new place.

Canada also tempted him because it's the gateway to America and exactly what we needed to truly make the club a force to be reckoned with.

I have my own cabin next to the club house that was my fathers before mine. He left it and moved to a small family house after he met my mother and they fell pregnant with my older brother, Finn.

Any of my brothers have the option to have their own cabin or family house but most tend to wait for their old lady to make an appearance in their life before leaving the club house.

They have a tendency to prefer pussy over isolation. Because we are a new generation of the club, many of my brothers followed me after I took on the presidency, it means we don't have many old ladies knocking about the club... or any.

I'm still waiting for mine.

Finding an old lady... my brother found his a few years back when he agreed to move to Germany to head up a faction of our club over there. In truth we've never met the woman, she seems cold and rude.

She won't even speak to my mother, she sounds exactly like the kind of woman my brother would pick.

Despite him leaving years ago, we speak only occasionally and only out of duty, we were never close. We didn't even look like brothers, he had long blonde hair whilst mine is short and dark.

He was always short and stocky. I'm just the size of a fucking bear. It was to be expected I guess given my parent's height but I surpassed even their expectations.

Standing at 6'8 my stature alone is a crown of my presidency.

My brother also has a vicious cruel streak and a nasty sense of ambition. I never understood why the woman he chose felt anything for him, it's highly possible that she left after meeting his darkest streaks and that is why we never hear from her.

Stomping up my snow encrusted front porch, I haul the front door open. An ever glowing warmth from the fire caresses my face as I close the door behind me.

Flopping down on the couch I grab my whiskey decanter and pour myself a generous glass. It's been a long day.

That's what I always tell myself.