Page 16 of Sinful Mates

Acceptance of the decision was a blade to my chest. Stinging. Bitter. Though, I had to hand it to Slade, he handled the matter without disrespecting me, even though I didn't give him that same level of esteem.

“Who wants to vote candidates for VP?” Anger in Slade’s voice receded to mild annoyance. The worst of it was over, his boiling emotions reduced to a simmer.

“Castor,” Alaric threw in and supportive murmurs went around the room.

“I’ll do it,” Brix grunted.

Laughable. No one liked the prick. Slade wanted to fire his ass for years, but he kept him around out of loyalty to his father, an original club member.

Dimples poked into my president’s cheek at his cocky grin. “All those in favor of Brix.” Two hands went up. Fucking groupie bitches also earning their spot on the firing squad from Slade’s deadly and sinful glare. “All those in favor of Castor.”

No fucking contest. Ninety percent of the club voted.

At the crash of Slade’s gavel, locking the decision into law, I choked down the disillusionment. This was the last day of hope for the club. For my relationship with Slade. Now that they destroyed me, they lost me. Forever. I would show up and do my duty. But loyalty? Nah. No more. This was just a job to me. Once I got the shelter back on its feet and was in a more stable position, I’d resign all together. Fuck the Jackals. Aaliyah and I were better off without them. They were nothing but havoc and chaos. My past in my rearview mirror, Aaliyah and Mia were my future. My everything. They sat in the space in my heart reserved for the club.

I didn’t begrudge Castor for assuming my role. Best man for it. My choice out of anyone. Alaric didn’t want the position or responsibility. Bones might have been okay, but he was a bit immature and would shit Slade no end. The president needed someone who could hold his own with him and not lose his cool when he got hotheaded and unreasonable.

“With Genius in as VP we’ll need an enforcer. Any hands?” Fuck. The question burned, not as raw and feverish as the day Dylan passed away, but just as painful.

Brix flung his hand up and I choked out a laugh. Ridiculous. The guy didn’t give up. What a joke. A pathetic biker. Fat. Lazy. Cunt.

A soft voice from the back of the room. “I vote Zethan as temporary enforcer while you decide.”

Aaliyah.

Hair disheveled, cut lopsided on her chest, jeans wrinkled. Beautiful amid the disarray. Her turquoise gaze landed on me, backed with love, support, and loyalty. The deep ache in my chest unraveled and I took in a long breath. Fuck. I had trouble keeping my face emotionless and steely. This was the last place I expected her to come after yesterday’s betrayal by her brothers.

Cold crawled down my throat, waiting for the club to elect a candidate. Maybe today wouldn’t end up as shitty as I expected.

The venom pumping in Slade’s veins faltered at her arrival, replaced by a less lethal smile. “Glad you could make it, Nurse A.” He shot a loaded glare at the rest of the room. “Hurry the fuck up and vote. I’m hungry and lunch is on the house today.”

Twenty-four men cheered, loving a club-supplied lunch.

The hurricane of grief within me ground to a halt. I wanted to push back my chair and go to her. Take her in my arms, sweep her hair over her shoulder, take her mouth in mine and show her what she meant to me. Now wasn’t the time. I patted my leg, and she came to sit on it, throwing one arm over my shoulder. A show of allegiance to her other mates. Her warmth and softness burned into my palms. Lured by her sweet scent of cherries and vanilla, I leaned into her hair.

“Come on you, dickheads. I’ll be good at this job.” Snorts exploded around the room at Brix’s tender for the position, the loudest from Aaliyah, who clutched her belly.

“Good one, asshole.” My woman thumped her palm on the table, winked at me, getting a jab in at him for starting this bullshit.

Love thundered through me. Despite her reservations about her future with the club, she turned up for me, and to stick it to the assholes who let her down.

The curse commenced its initial itch, but this meeting would be over soon enough, sparing us any pain.

Brix sneered at my mate. Lazy prick would barely get in two punches before he hunched over, wheezing. He wasn’t enforcer material. Our enemies would laugh in our face and think the Jackals a joke if we appointed him. To climb out of our funk we needed intelligent senior members, not dumb pricks.

Slade ground his teeth and glared at Brix, oozing the promise of agony to that asshole if he said one more word. “If any motherfuckers put their hand up for Brix, I’ll shoot them myself.” His eyebrows dared anyone to tempt him.

No dice. Even Brix’s mutinous groupies kept their hands by their sides.

“Do you want Zethan as a temporary enforcer?” My heart thumped to an uneven beat at Slade’s last-ditch attempt to salvage my career.

Every hand but Brix’s went up. Done and dusted. Ass saved, for now. Unease scorched my throat at the prospect of forced proximity to Slade as his enforcer and personal protector. Nothing punching a few assholes wouldn’t fix to get my frustrations out when I had A LOT of residual aggravation to work out.

Satisfaction rumbled on Slade’s bond. Aaliyah handed him a reason to maintain the avatars in senior roles. “Thank fuck, I thought I was up for a murder spree.” He scratched at the gun beneath his cut to make his next point. “If anyone starts bitching that I’m showing favor, I’ll break teeth. This is temporary, and we’ll reassess this arrangement in a month.”

Biding time until he found another solution. Slade would never appoint a non-avatar to a senior role. Aaliyah or I were his only choices.

Defeat settled in and Brix lowered his gaze. Silence and the dissolution of some tension suggested the other men seemed content with the arrangement. Then again, Slade’s threat might have contributed to that.

---