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I was the shithead who didn’t deserve to draw the same air as our sweet omega, nor our feisty mate. When you had bad blood pumping in your veins, it didn’t matter how hard you tried. You’d always have the demons of the underworld pulling your strings. Making you do shit you’d regret.
Like roughing up our most prized pack member in front of everyone. What sort of an alpha was I?
If Bulletproof hadn’t wandered in, I might have challenged two of my most trusted friends. Over a girl. Because the fucking Chaos made us crazy.
Mongrel didn’t bother to reply, just popped off another line of cans from the box. Then he strolled across the yard and lined up the replacements for my turn.
We’d been doing this since we were kids. When one of our good-for-nothing fathers riled up our beasts and our rage had nowhere to go, we came out to the range for target practice. I didn’t know what Mongrel thought about, but I imagined my old man’s head sitting in place of those cans and exploding like a watermelon with every shot.
Very therapeutic, imaginary violence. Almost as good as the real thing.
I popped off my round then slid down the wall at my back with a sigh. My beta cracked open beers for the both of us and joined me. I drank it straight down, the bubbling liquid only churned my insides all the more.
“Don’t think I can do this, man,” I admitted.
Mongrel grunted.
“My wolf doesn’t share.”
This time my Sgt. at Arms huffed a mirthless laugh and threw his head back as his own beast rumbled dangerously. “Well, he’s gonna have to learn to. We both are.”
“Fuck.” I ran a hand over my face. My friend was right. What other choice was there? “I could deny the Goddess. Reject the claim.”
“You could,” Mongrel turned to the side and spat in the dirt before looking me dead in the eye, his wolf blazing with challenge. “But it’d make you a dumb fuck.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, thinking of the woman who drove me wild and made my dick weep for joy with every little thing she did. “Sure would.”
28
REAL TALK
Silver
One day out of those fucking cages and out of reach of the Bone Crushers and our guests had started to perk up.
Those who had homes to return to had been ferried in Carbon’s van by Bulletproof and his mates. Our VP had checked each human’s residence out carefully, dropping a kind word to distraught family members, and leaving a contact number in case they experienced any further troubles.
Saying goodbye had been a stoic affair but I believed the promises to stay in touch between those who’d offered them. Others looked like they couldn’t get away from their living nightmare fast enough. I took some small comfort knowing that the survivors would be able to seek their people out, here at the Soul Reapers, once they began to process all they’d been through.
Now the group was smaller, more intimate, but the bonds tying them together felt more visceral and the absences poignant.
I sat between Sasha and Addy. My mate’s shoulders were slumped and she kept looking over at the empty bathroom. Pain filtered dully through the new bond between us. All I wanted to do was cheer her up but heaviness was weighing me down, too.
The painful confrontation with Grimm in the clubhouse bar ached like a bullet wound in my gut.
We were like two drowning souls, flapping around in murky waters, trying to throw a life ring to one another while we slowly sank beneath the waves. I wanted to erase Sasha’s insecurities but it was kinda hard to do when your own demons had their claws hooked into you.
Grimm had treated me like I wasn’t fit to breathe the same air as my mate. Was he right? Was that his jealous wolf talking, the proud alpha who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, or did my friend really think I was so far below Sasha that it was laughable I should claim her?
“All right, you gloomy pussies,” Popcorn announced, kicking open the door with a pop of her gum and followed by a giggling trio of sweetbutts. “I’m declaring a girl’s night. All dicks must leave except those we deem worthy.”
I got up, brushing myself down. This was for the best. My mate needed a bit of bonding time with my BFF and to learn that not all of our pack females were created equal. These were the ones they could trust.
Popcorn put her hands on her hips and stomped her sneaker-clad foot. “And where do you think you dicks are going?”
Robbie, Jimmy and I all froze, not sure which dick she was referring to. Popcorn gave Sugarrush a nod and the sweetbutt sauntered over. She smirked at me as she pinned a garish, handmade ‘Honorary Pussy’ badge to my t-shirt. It was made out of a bar coaster, fixed to my shirt with a safety pin, and had been decorated in a Sharpie. She kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry Grimm was a dick. He looked real ashamed of himself as Mongrel dragged his ass outta there.”
I shrugged like it was no big deal.
