Making choices a dark an.., p.38
Making Choices: a dark and angsty love triangle romance, page 38
She shrugs. “I neither confirm nor deny this allegation.”
“Lay off the lawyer speak,” I tell her. “That’s my speciality.”
“No one’s judging you,” Indi interjects. “Well, except for me, since I’m apparently the only one not riding multiple cocks at once, it seems.”
Raising my hand, I murmur, “I haven’t ridden any cock other than Zeke’s… me and Slash only dry humped.”
“How quaint,” Serena offers pleasantly. From her position seated primly on my bed, Sera nods archly with mocking agreement. “When do you plan on reaching third base?”
“Oh, shut up,” I tell her with a laugh as I swipe my phone from the nightstand. “It was a one-off thing that will never happen again.” My best friend hands me the bottle of water and two pills when I try to edge past her toward my door. Swallowing the pain relief, I peer at the time, then plaster a smile on my face. “I’ll get dressed, then meet you downstairs… Nads can help me rustle up a late lunch and we can plan our night.”
My best friend leads the other women out of my bedroom.
I duck into my bathroom to splash some water on my face.
The sight that greets me in the mirror is a shock.
I’m hungover as hell, shaky and wobbly on my feet, so neatly braided hair and a make-up free face are the last things I expected to see after the messy night I had. The t-shirt I’m wearing is another surprise. I duck my nose inside the neckline and inhale. It’s Slash’s. Just like my bed, it smells like him. Ignoring the squirmy feeling I get in my stomach at the idea of being covered in the big man’s scent, I check my hamper and discover the leather pants and top I wore last night. My thigh-high boots are missing, but I bet I’ll find them in their designated spot on my shoe racks.
When my attention is drawn to the shower cubicle, a vision flashes into my head.
Slash in wet boxer shorts, soaping me up in the shower after I’d puked all over myself. His velvety voice is full of apology as he explains that he has to stay away from me for my own good. Thick fingers scraping through my hair as he braids the damp locks away from my face. A feather-light kiss to my forehead as he tucks me into bed.
That can’t be right?
He hasn’t said a word to me in a week.
When I finally venture downstairs, dressed in leggings and a clean t-shirt that doesn’t smell like a man who can’t stand the sight of me, I find the girls hard at work. Crystal has taken over the kitchen and she’s dishing out orders in her usual no-nonsense tone.
“Mo ulaidh bheag,” she greets me with a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Take those dishes outside. Tell the boys to set up the trestle tables.”
After I grab the pile of plates and cutlery, I inhale deep, bracing myself to come face to face with Slash. I’m immediately disappointed when I discover that he’s not here, then I mentally kick myself for being so stupid.
It’s good that he’s not home.
I don’t want to see him until he takes the giant stick out of his arse.
Do I?
“Mumma C said to set the table,” I tell Isaiah and Everett. The ever-efficient prospect gives me a nod then takes the plates from me. My brother just scowls when I offer him the cutlery. Cocking my head to the side, I call him out on his bullshit. “What’s wrong? I thought you said you were fine. Surely, setting the table is easy, especially for someone who reckons he doesn’t need PT for his injuries.”
Although they have their backs to us as they man the barbeque, I feel Cub and Hunter stiffen with shock. Across the table from me, Isaiah grimaces, then he flicks his attention from Everett to me. In his expression, I read the same worry that fuels me. If my middle brother keeps ignoring his need for physical rehabilitation, he’s going to regret it.
Eventually the damage will be permanent.
Irreversible.
“Fuck you, Anna… I’m not a prospect anymore so you can get down off your damn high horse.” His gaze flashes with malice and, for a second, it reminds me so much of Zeke when he gets into a rage that my lungs seize. The similarities in them, their identical inability to admit that they mightn’t have made the right choices, is confronting. It’s also maddening. As is their propensity to hit me with low blows whenever they’re called out. “Even if I was, you’re no longer the VP’s old lady… that means you hold no fuckin’ sway over me or my decisions. Maybe you should sort out your own shit before you start tryna dictate to me… did you ever think about that?”
“Ev…” Trailing off when I can’t find the words to explain to my brother that I’m only looking out for him, I swing around to head back inside. I walk face first into a man mountain, rebounding off him so hard that it’s only sheer luck and his quick reflexes that stop me from falling on my backside. “Sorry… I’m sorry. So sorry.”
As Slash peers down at me, I know that he’s aware that my apology doesn’t just relate to colliding with him. My remorse is for a week ago, too. We crossed a line that can never be uncrossed, and it’s obvious that he either regrets it or he’s angry that I can’t reciprocate to the level he wants.
Maybe a bit of both?
The fingers circling my upper arms tighten and he pulls me into him, then he exhales sharply and sidesteps me so quickly that I stumble forward.
“Don’t ever talk to your sister like that again.” Slash points a thick finger in Everett’s face. My brother rolls his eyes. “She’s worried about you. We all are… and if that pisses you off, that’s on you.”
Heart pounding as he defends me, I stare at Slash’s back and silently pray for him to turn around and look at me. He doesn’t. Instead, he stomps over to the barbeque and pushes in between Cub and Hunter. Snatching the tongs from Cub, he attacks the sizzling steaks like they’ve personally offended him.
I take a step in his direction.
“Cherub,” Isaiah cautions in a barely audible tone. “Leave him.”
The two younger men manning the grill glance over their shoulders at me with censure in their expressions. Hunter’s face is especially harsh. His ice-blue gaze warns me not to engage with his big brother. Cub is slightly less judgmental, but not by much.
They’ve never looked at me like this.
Do they know what happened between us?
I press the heels of my hands to the cuts I’ve made to the top of my thighs over the past week. My relapse after Zeke told me to move on and Slash stopped talking to me fills me with shame, yet I can’t manage to stop myself from giving in whenever the urge hits. As dark thoughts whip me into a maelstrom of guilt, I rake my fingernails over the soft material of my leggings until the lightly scabbed wounds reopen. As the black cotton dampens with my blood, the sting steadies me enough to hug my arms around my middle and dash inside to get away from their silent condemnation.
Once I’m in the kitchen with the other women, I busy myself. I drink cup after cup of coffee, even though the taste makes me queasy. Joke with my friends. Allow Crystal to fuss over me. Every time I stop moving, or the conversation lulls, the urge to dart upstairs to drag a razor over my skin threatens to overwhelm me. Again and again, I push away the never-ending loneliness that surges in me, pretending all the while to enjoy my friends brief and impromptu visit. They seem to buy my act, laughing at my quips and promising me that the embroidery I had Ziva glue onto Serena’s graduation mortar board as a dick-inspired prank is going to be hard to beat.
Pun intended.
Of course, Nadia doesn’t swallow my ruse as readily.
She shoots me troubled looks all afternoon. As I find myself frozen out by the club brothers for the first time in my life, through our leisurely late lunch where I pick at my food, as we dress up for an evening of fun, while we’re out at a dinner that I don’t eat either, and even on the dance floor at the club—for hours, she worries about me.
I keep waiting for her to broach the subject, yet she doesn’t.
Then I talk her into getting high with me, and her concern is forgotten.
We run amok.
I enjoy the reprieve.
Until I sober up and the sad state of my life smacks me in the face once more.
The razor beckons.
And I give in to it yet again.
33
SLASH
Five weeks later
I allow myself the count of ten to bask in the feel of Cherub’s arse pressed against my morning wood, then I roll out of her bed like a ninja on stealth mode. After tucking her in, I stare down at her and try to make my feet carry me out of her room. Mumbling something under her breath, my duchess shifts restlessly. She flops on her back, then kicks at the comforter to uncover one leg.
Her thermostat, as she jokingly calls it.
My hungry gaze traces the elegant limb.
From her painted toes to the top of her inner thigh.
The sight of the thin cuts marring her perfect flesh makes me curl my fingers into fists.
Then, like I have nearly every day for the past six weeks, I sneak out of Cherub’s bedroom before a single ray of the morning sun has crested the horizon. It’s day forty-three since I inadvertently imploded my life and I’m not handling it. At all. My misstep with Bebe has created all kinds of problems for my faction of the Shamrocks, and after Hades and Angelis managed to calm Venom down with an incredibly abbreviated version of the truth about my run in with the Maddison clan, one that erased Bebe’s role in everything, the club decided that it was best if we all put distance between Cherub and us.
Especially me and Venom.
But mainly me.
I’m the fuck up.
The one who dragged her into the crosshairs.
A man who flew too close to the sun and ended up incinerated.
And it only got worse from there when a week or so after the concert, Cherub tried to join the monthly family night, only to be told that her ex-fiancé had laid down a decree banishing her from the compound. It was a cowardly step, one that I’d argued against, yet the vote went against me. Everyone except Hunter and Cub voted with Venom to cut her off from the Shamrocks for her own protection.
My duchess reacted to the news by going completely off the rails.
Sure, she went to work most days.
Gabriel kept an eye on her, and his assistant, Veronica, ensured she remained busy.
Her despair got the better of her at night.
Drugs. Drinks. Dancing on bars.
Those three activities I could handle.
It’s the constant flirting that drives me to the point of madness.
Every time she gets high and allows Nadia to goad her into approaching some random preppy douche drinking IPAs with his douchebag mates, my jaw locks and my heart seizes. I can feel the jealousy pounding through me, poisonous wave by poisonous wave, until I’m ready to kill. The need to possess her swamps every rational thought in my head. Unleashes a side of me that I never knew existed.
Turns me into Venom.
The solitary silver lining in all this is that my brothers have my back.
As I devolve into my most primal form, they keep me from losing control.
In the space of five months, Cherub has made me both empathise with and loathe Venom.
How the hell is he surviving without her?
I’m barely holding on and I live in the same house.
“What the fuck?” Toker halts at the top of the steps as I pull Cherub’s bedroom door shut behind me. Dressed in my boxers, with my cut and jeans slung over my forearm, and the top of my boots clasped in my fist, the scene is incriminating. “It’s like you have a motherfuckin’ death wish.”
I press a finger to my lips.
He shuts up.
“I’ll explain downstairs.”
The eye roll that greets my whispered promise should be comical.
It’s not… for two reasons.
The first is that he’s likely to lose his shit when I explain why I’m sleeping in his cousin’s bed. But it’s the second reason that truly sets my teeth on edge.
Toker being in my home at five in the morning, making his way up my stairs as quietly as he can, means the shit has hit the fan. If I was needed at the compound for club business, Cub would’ve called me. So, his sneaking around means that he’s here to summon me for something to do with Brutus and the Shamrocks’ vermin problem.
Which will require me to be in the same space as Venom for the first time since he discovered that the Maddison clan had held me and Bebe at gunpoint moments after his Lily had exited my Range Rover. Now, the bullshit story we’ve spun isn’t likely to hold up to scrutiny once Venom wraps up his single-minded pursuit of Brutus and his rats, but it’s done the job so far. The lie has bought me time to work out the full extent of the threat and a way to nullify it before he finds out that he’s been deliberately kept out of the loop.
Of course, I’m failing dismally at this plan… like I am everything else in my life.
“Spill,” Toker demands as soon as we’re at the bottom of the staircase. He places his hand on the butt of his gun, although he thankfully keeps it holstered. The man is a crack shot, so I don’t fancy my chances at dodging any bullet he aims my way. “I better like what you’ve gotta say or I’m gonna make you dance monkey.”
His reference to the dumb stunt he pulled for Venom months ago doesn’t fill me with confidence. Benedict Cherub has a unique way of viewing the world. He’s the most unromantic, pragmatic, and dogmatic man I know. Even when he’s mellowed out after a joint, his rough edges remain jagged enough to cut. He hides his inflexible value system behind jokes, but I know he takes loyalty and brotherhood seriously.
My club brother’s moral code is black and white.
Full stop.
Being around Cherub when I’ve been warned multiple times to back off edges me closer to crossing one of his boundaries. Once I’ve done that, he’ll never let me back onto the other side. Toker’s trust is hard to earn and easy to lose. I figure being abandoned by his mother as a toddler taught him how harsh the world can be a lot earlier than the rest of us learnt that lesson.
He wields that knowledge like an axe.
One lop and your head is separated from your body.
Permanently.
“She’s goin’ off the rails.”
Worry stirs in his steady gaze. “I’m aware.”
“I’m tryna keep her from spirallin’ completely.”
“With ya cock?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I drop my boots to the floor, then set about re-dressing in yesterday’s clothes. “She comes home high as a kite, drunk as a skunk, or both, either passed out or on the verge of it. Alls I’m doin’ is makin’ sure she has someone watchin’ over her when she starts throwin’ up… also tryna minimise the opportunities for her to backslide.” My fear is impossible to hide as I add. “She’s covered in cuts, and I don’t know how to stop her.”
“Fuck.” That single curse contains every ounce of angst that’s been dogging Toker as he plays witness to the best woman we know losing her innate light to her grief. “Didn’t know it was that bad.”
“Well, it is, and I’m not gonna leave her to fight alone.”
“Brother.” Toker claps a hand down on my shoulder. He curls his fingers viciously and his grip bites into my flesh hard enough to make me stiffen. “It’s fuckin’ obvious that she has no idea that you’re lookin’ out for her. Whenever I see you two together, there’s a chill between ya. Not sure what happened before Venom—” Toker lets go of me to make a teeing off motion. “—but I know somethin’ went down after the concert. She’s walkin’ on eggshells around you, and you look at her like you can’t decide if you love or hate her.”
“That’s none’a your bloody business.” The embarrassment that permanently merged with my marrow after she rejected me makes it hard to draw a full breath. It winds around my throat, pulls tight, and strips my lungs of my oxygen. My voice is strangled as I tell him, “I’m fuckin’ furious at her. At Venom.” Rubbing at the back of my neck, I shrug. “At myself.” As I bend down to lace my boots, I mumble, “Somewhere along the way, it all turned to shit, and I don’t know if I’m capable of fixin’ things.”
“Hearts can change, ’specially one as big as Cherub’s.”
“I’m not so sure.” Leaning against the banister once my boots are secured on my feet, I roll my snake bite piercings between my teeth. “’Cause from where I’m standin’ it looks like I’m always gonna be second best… and that’s a position I refuse to accept.”
“Maybe I can clear out the office, and she can move in with me?”
“Fuck no.” My protest is immediate. “She ain’t livin’ above a strip club.”
“Just think some time and space might help you two.”
“The only thing that’ll help us is erasin’ Venom from her memory.”
“Good luck with that one.” Toker exhales noisily. “Look, I ain’t gonna meddle right now, but if it looks like things are gettin’ outta control, I’ll have her moved in with me so fast your head’ll spin.”
“Your support is immeasurable,” I drawl.
“Yeah, it is. That woman is one of the brightest lights in my life… I won’t let you dim her shine any more than I’ll allow Venom to do it.”
“Speakin’ of Venom.” I deftly change the subject when I notice that Toker’s dormant volcano of a temper is beginning to bubble. “I figure he’s the reason you’re creepin’ around my house in the dark… what’s up?”
Toker’s usually laid back. Placid even. Although he doesn’t mind a fist fight, it’s approached with an edge of humour. So, the sight of Toker actually giving into his rage is awe-inspiring. He makes Venom look like a teddy bear when he finally erupts.
Thankfully, the last time he kicked off was the day Brutus dragged his kids out of the compound and moved them to Inadale more than ten years ago.
It took weeks to calm him down.
I don’t have the bandwidth to clean up a mess like that again.
“Yeah.” The harshness in his eyes increases. “He’s got Bear hangin’ in the bunker at Hades’ farm.”
