Page 66 of Sinful Mates

Slade’s impatience choked the bond. “What have you got for us, Messenger Boy?”

“Slade, long time no chat.” Mads’ tone lightened with havoc and mischief. “Has your voice gotten deeper? Rougher? Sexier? Giving lots of head?”

Slade poured himself a large whisky. “Smoking more, asshole.” A little game they enjoyed playing.

“Mmm.” Mads paused for dramatic affect. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

Zethan swiped away the smile playing at his lips, but I let it all free, earning a sharp glare from my president. He could give it but couldn’t take it. Sometimes the god of War deserved to be beaten.

“We need a favor, fucker,” Slade growled, throwing back his drink. “And if you say no, I’ll come over there and feed you my dick. Roughen those vocal cords and deepen your pansy-ass voice.”

I chuckled at the banter. Thankfully, Mads never took any insult to heart. A thief and swindler by trade—following in his god, Hermes’, shoes—he must have heard every possible slight over the years.

“You know I’d enjoy that.” Mads hummed his approval. “I can’t say my fiancée would. Cupid’s love, jealousy, and all that. She’d totally fuck your ass for hurting my pretty head and damaging my sexy vocal cords.”

I got in before Slade bit back and it devolved into an all-out insult and banter war. “You’re engaged? Congratulations.”

That gave me hope that Aaliyah could get hitched with all of us. A real biker wedding. Not officially all on paper, though. Polygamy laws and all that. But we could still have a ceremony.

Guilt corded in my throat. I was no husband. No fiancé. Not even a fucking mate. Why would she marry me when I couldn’t give all of myself to her?

“Thanks.” Pride swelled in Mads’ voice. “I’ll send an invite to the wedding.”

Wedding.That word set off a mass of emotions. Fireworks of regret, insecurity, trepidation. Fuck. Not the time to sink into this mind worm.

Slade leaned back in his chair and threw his feet up onto his desk. “Ahh, a wedding. I get to kiss the bride. Steal a dance. Catch the garter.”

“By all means.” Mads reveled in the president’s goading. “Have you met Rane? Locke’s second husband to be? Also a god of War?”

Rane worked for Ares. Not as much of a hothead as Slade, but just as much potential for destruction. Thinking about it brought me back from the pit of despair that opened up in me.

Slade grinned, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “Looking forward to shaking the groom’s hand.” More like crushing it. Ego. Proving who was the better War god.

I steered the conversation back on track before it got out of hand. “Mads, I need your help.”

“This sounds serious.” Mischief dissolved from Mads’ voice.

“It is.” I sent him an encrypted package of all my plans. Easier and faster than explaining when our brains absorbed information on our highways at split second speeds.

“Oh, my. You little sinners. You’ve been up to no good, haven’t you?” Slade rejoiced at Mads’ praise, his chest and shoulders swelling. “Earned yourselves some formidable enemies there.”

Slade huffed at the sarcasm.

Mads hummed. “This is epic. Bigger than anything I’ve ever done. I’d enjoy nothing more than destroying this filth... even though things would be boring without them.” Ah, Mads. Always in it for the sport. “Count me in… just … not a word to Locke, okay?”

I could handle a Love goddess. My charm worked on any woman. Any.

“Pussy whipped,” Slade coughed into his hand.

I thumped him on the shoulder. “Like you can talk.”

Slade’s finger hovered over the hang up button. “Thanks, Mads. Owe you one.”

“Wait.” I swatted my president away. “Cover me tonight on social media? They’ll be deleting posts left, right, and center to stop the story from going viral.”

“I got you covered, brother from another pantheon mother.” Having Mads back me up relieved the tension building in my shoulders.

“Love your work, brother.” I pushed my elbows and shoulders back to ease the back strain.

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