Page 211 of Making Choices

“Choke me.”

I was determined to make this shitty situation as sweet as possible for her, yet I can see the sense in her request. She needs me to take away her control. To strip her of any skerrick of culpability. So, even though it makes me sick to my stomach, I do as she’s requested.

I collar my wife.

She melts beneath me.

Tightening my grip as she starts to come, I squeeze her windpipe. Cut off her airflow completely as I press my mouth to hers and swallow down every moan that leaves her lips. Her cunt spasms around me as I bring her to climax, yet not one motherfucker watching has any idea. For all they know, she’s passed out. Her pleasure is all mine. Just like my release belongs to her when I come as silently as I can.

When I pull my already softening cock free of her body, the prick with the sickle waves his minions forward. “Check that he’s done the job.”

I snatch the scythe out of his hand and press it to his throat.

He stiffens as I demand, “They touch her, and you die.”

Out the corner of my eye, I spy Gabriel stepping onto the altar. I hit him with a look of pure hatred when his cold gaze connects with mine. He ignores me. My nerves jangle at code-five levels as I survey our surroundings to assess the threat level. Somehow a hundred men have silently exited during the fracas so I’m only dealing with five Trinity psychos and the Adjudicator.

Not great odds, but I’ll take them.

“You’ve had your fun, Sal,” Gabriel announces. “Let them go.”

“Or what? You’ll set Samael on me?”

“No.” Gabriel bares his teeth. “My brother will be the least of your problems.”

The two men engage in a silent stare off.

Sal breaks first. His gaze fixes on his four minions. “The ritual is done. They can leave.”

When I don’t remove the blade from his throat after his men disappear out of sight, he wraps his hand around the handle of the scythe just below mine, and pulls it from his throat. The thin line it draws across his skin bleeds, but he doesn’t seem to notice as I allow him to take the sickle from me.

The way he looks at Gabriel tells me that the two men are going to have words, so I take that as my cue to leave. I retrieve my wife from the bed. She wraps her arms around my neck, clinging to me when I lean forward to scoop her robe from the floor. After I pull it over her to hide her naked body from sight, she sighs. It’s totally empty, a sound of defeat, her final act before she passes out from the strain of what’s just occurred. Cherub’s head lolls against my shoulder, her dead weight rests in my arms as I stride down the steps.

My pulse roars as I carry her through the row of pews.

By virtue of good luck or divine intervention, I find our SUV parked at the front doors when I emerge into the dark night. The back door opens and my new watchman steps out. Shock widens Meeyal’s eyes when he sees our state, and he cringes at my nudity, before he rallies to help me place Cherub on the back seat. We tuck the robe around her like a blanket, and I’m about to climb in so we can get the hell out of Dodge when I’m interrupted.

“Slash,” Gabriel says from behind me. “That was—”

“Fuckin’ unacceptable.” Rearing around, I throw a punch that knocks him to the ground. I snatch the black robe he’s holding out of his hand and slip my arms through it as he pulls himself back to his feet. “That bullshit is not what we signed up for. You played us. Tricked us. Why?”

“It’s my fault,” Meeyal offers. His forthright tone holds no apology and I’m left to wonder if I’ve misjudged him in the same way I did his father. “When I patched into the Shamrocks, Dad was put into an impossible position. Lo doesn’t want to fulfil his legacy and neither do I. Without us, the Abaddon name will no longer be synonymous with justice. Samael’s older sons are like me, bikers through and through, and his youngest is sixteen, so we needed to find an outsider we could trust. A man without a lot of ties. Someone who’d be perfect for the role if he was given the right motive and an opportunity at resurrection.”

“Lazarus?”

“Yeah.” My club brother inclines his head. “He was pretty much born for the role.”

I turn to Gabriel for confirmation. He licks his bleeding lip, his head tilted thoughtfully as his gaze runs over me. From his perspective, I must look like an idiot. A bloody cross on my forehead. My shoulder bleeding. I’m naked, bar the black robe.

Yet, his expression betrays nothing but respect. “You did well in there.”

“I failed her.”

“You did better than most men manage.”

“Sure.” I snort. “Venom woulda killed every single one of ’em before they managed to ruffle a hair on her head... I ain’t her hero.”

“Bullshit,” Gabriel disagrees in a lethal tone. “He would’ve died tryin’. You got both of you out of there in one piece. That’s a win in my book.”

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