Page 40 of Property of Necro
It’s been weeks, and I’m the only one of us who’s gotten to know her sweet smile and kind words. Her laugh is tinkly and beautiful, and so is her soul. I can feel it. She’s good. Broken like us, but good. She’s not a temporary bandage. She’s the cure.
I know it.
Mama knows it.
That’s why he asked her to come. That’s why he shared what he did in the chapel. To bring her closer in, to make her feel like she belongs. He’s not only the oldest of the brothers, but he’s also the wisest. That’s why he’s VP, and Necro needs his guidance—even if he doesn’t want it most of the time.
Maybe, in their microscopic dick-for-brains, Necro and Coffin know Sola’s important, too. That’s why they're pulling this shit.
Either that, or they’re truly that far gone.
Look. I get it.
Putting yourself out there is hard.
Letting Sola see inside will damn near destroy us and her in the process.
But it’s worth it.
We’ll heal together. Stronger together than apart.
Don’t ask me how I know, but I do.
I place a hand over my heart. It’s here. In my chest. Beating for her. Steady and ready to break the shell. Bring on the axe. Cut through the armor. I can take it. I know my brothers can, too. When she chips away at us, maybe she’ll let us do the same to her, too. Slower. With more care.
That’s what a woman like Sola deserves.
Everything.
And more…
Chapter
Fifteen
“What’s going on, Rot?”I ask from the comfort of his bed, blanket tucked around my waist, my breasts still hanging out after a long and delicious fuck. His phone went off a minute ago, and he shot out of bed like his ass was on fire. Now he’s throwing on clothes and socks and stuffing his feet in his leather boots by the door, giving me a fantastic view of his ass stretching his black jeans. The muscles in his back shift as he ties one boot before the other.
When he doesn’t respond, I sit up straighter and try again. “Rot?”
“Stay here, Red,” he orders, then he’s gone without a parting glance, slamming the door shut behind him.
Um. Okay.
What the hell is going on?
What am I supposed to do besides listen to him? Just sit here and wait? Which I suppose is the right thing to do, but I don’t want to sit here all day wondering ifsomething’s wrong. There definitely is. Rot wouldn’t leave like that otherwise.
As I contemplate my next move, I slide off the bed and remake it before I slip into his shared bathroom with Coffin and take a quick whore bath in the sink to wash Rot’s fresh cum from my pussy. I sniff my armpits, and they smell the same as they did this morning when I used the new deodorant Necro put in my bathroom. It’s scented with lavender essential oils and, I think, lemongrass or something like that. It’s aluminum-free, dye-free, and far bougier than any deodorant I’ve had before. I bet it cost a fortune.
Using my fingers, I tame what I can of my curls after Rot messed them up. Thankfully, the leave-in conditioner that showed up in my bathroom last week has helped a ton, and fixing my freshly fucked hair is far more manageable now. Thank the universe for small miracles.
In the bedroom, I dig through Rot’s dresser for another plain t-shirt, as Necro’s from this morning is now coated in bodily fluids. I slip it over my head and hunt for my crocheted slippers from Mama. One has found its way under the edge of the bed in our mad dash to rip each other’s clothes off. You’d think even after a few weeks, I’d be sick of sex with multiple men. Or the same men. But I can’t seem to get enough. Not that Necro’s counts all that much. It’s turned from surprising and kinda hot to basic vanilla. That happens when there’s no variation. It’s not much different from missionary. He never touches me with more than a finger or two and his cock. He never makes a sound. Sure, it feels good, but it’s predictable. Predictable is boring.
Sighing, I crawl on my hands and knees to find the last of my missing slippers, feeling like Cinderella.
“There you are.” I locate it behind the nightstand. “How did you get there?” I speak to the inanimate object like it’s somehow going to grow a mouth and talk back to me as I sit on my butt and slip them on before I stand.
Hands on my hips, I look around the room to see if I’ve missed anything. When nothing comes to mind, I clap my hands together. “So. What do we do now?” I speak aloud in the hope that a brilliant plan will form on its own.
