Page 72 of Savage Daddies

Poet perches on the edge of the bed. “You protect your sister?” Zoe nods. “But who protects you?”

17

ZOE

Oh,don’t they have a way with words? I bring my knees even closer to my chest to distance myself from them as much as possible. Inviting them into my room was a mistake, but Felix’s threat has injected a high dose of self-restraint into my bloodstream. I trust my body to keep its distance.

“I protect myself.” The small, mousy sound of my voice suggests otherwise.

Bullwhip looks unconvinced, eyes hard. I hate his physique, how much it always makes me wanna crawl up into his arms and disappear.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“Doing what?” asks Wrangler.

“Protecting me. Trying to get me away from Felix.”

“Do you trust us?” asks Bullwhip.

“Yeah,” I admit.

And I do. I guess that’s the positive that comes from living with Father, and then Felix—you have an eye for trustworthy individuals when you’ve spent your whole life sharing spaces with dishonest men.

“We care about you,” says Wrangler.

“And maybe”—Poet lowers his voice—“we could even go the stretch further to love.”

“Love?” Wrangler, Bullwhip and I all blurt out in unison.

Poet holds up his hands like he’s innocent. “Just being truthful.”

That changes things.Love?I thought they were doing this because they’re bikers. Outlaws are supposed to save damsels in distress, right? They charge around on their Harleys, coming to the rescue like modern-day Prince Charmings. They do it to pride themselves. Make themselves feel selfless. That’s what I thought.

And now Poet is saying helovesme.

Sure, he taught me a few years ago, and we had a fondness for Macbeth, but he barely knows me apart from that.

“Love?” I blurt out. “Where the fuck has this come from?”

Poet’s ice-blue eyes laser into my fucking soul. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

Jane Austin, fromEmma.

My eyes catch on the quote I sharpied onto the mirror when I first moved into Felix’s place. I never studied Austin in school, but Poet must have seen the quote to know I’m fond of her work. I feel my cheeks redden. I don’t know how I feel about him being in my bedroom.

All I know is that if he leaves now, I’ll be disappointed.

“Can we stop talking in riddles?” says Bullwhip. “And get to work.”

“Not yet,” says my mouth, without asking for my brain’s permission first. “Let’s stay here for a bit. It’s nice.”

And it is. Felix never enters my bedroom, so it always feels like a safe haven, especially now the bikers are here to keep me company.

It’s a bad idea letting them stay, but all my mind has been thinking about since the bathroom is what happened in the bathroom.

They fucked me before.

They can do it again.

---