Page 205 of Seizing Control: Part One

SLASH: Cherub conceived on our wedding day

Everything I thought I knew.

Every plan I’ve made.

The list I was determined to complete.

It all dissipates in an instant.

No longer worthy of thought.

I open the contact of the one man who can help me now.

Lily is pregnant with a child conceived on her wedding day. I was inside her that day, my stupid plan to make her hate me backfiring on me epically. She left dressed in my prison clothes. Her tattered wedding dress clutched in my hand, I watched her go with hope in my heart that it wouldn’t be the last time I saw her, even as the most improbable scheme was put into action upon her departure.

Venom died that night.

What if part of him also lived?

“Gabriel.” I lift the phone to my ear as the call connects.

“Lazarus.”

“Meet me in the office in an hour.”

“Surely it can wait ’til the morning—what could possibly have changed since we?—”

“Everything,” I interject with utmost certainty. “Everything has changed...”

40

LILY

Three weeks later

“Are you sure you don’t need to take another change of clothes?” I ask Slash. He shakes his head as he stashes a solitary pair of jeans in the top of his saddlebag. The black bag is the same shape as his pannier, making it perfect for his trip across the Nullarbor Plain with the club. “Did you grab your toothbrush?”

“Duchess.” My husband stops me from ducking inside the bathroom. I look down at the floor, unwilling to let him see how badly I’m dealing with his impending departure. His touch is gentle when he chucks me under the chin. “Look at me.”

Blinking too fast, I lift my head. “I’m sorry… I need to toughen up.”

His big hands curve around my backside and he hauls me against him. My small bump nudges his stomach when Slash lifts me off my feet and hooks my legs around his waist. Clinging to each other, my husband nuzzles my jaw with his nose, doing his best to avoid resting his forehead against mine since it usually makes me cry.

I miss Zeke more with every day that passes.

As much as I try to stop my sorrow from spilling over onto Slash, it sometimes takes me by surprise. My hormones are out of whack as I head into my fourth month of pregnancy, and the delicate dance we continue to do around my unending mourning, Bebe’s impending due date, and the desperation with which my husband fucks me while I cry out another man’s name is taking a toll on us both.

Open communication is not a linchpin of my marriage.

“I love how fuckin’ raw and open you are nowadays.” Smiling softly, I bite down on my trembling bottom lip. Slash uses his teeth to pull it free. A needy whimper spills from my mouth. A growl rumbles through the big man’s chest and he tightens his arms around me. “Don’t have time to make love to you again, baby… but fuck if I ain’t ready to tell ’em to leave without me so I can.”

My tightly furled nipples are sensitive when he crushes me to him. I weave my fingers through his hair, making the most of the low bun he has his locks tied in so his helmet will fit properly. Tugging lightly, I plaster kisses on Slash’s cheeks, then press my mouth to his.

“I’m going to miss you.”

His hand snakes between our upper bodies so he can collar my neck. “Gonna miss you more.”

“We needa get a move on,” Toker announces.

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