Page 126 of Sire
“But youwill,” I swear. I feel. I know. “I can sense it. I’m going to lose you.”
Gently, he kisses me, our lips salted by my tears. “It’s your childhood wound, Angel.” He murmurs, “You were abandoned so many times, and now you fear you’ll lose me. It’s normal andnevergoing to happen. I’m yours forever. My family is yours, too.”
I shake my head. It doesn’t feel true. “You can’t promise that. Things change. People change. What if I lose you? I’ll want to die, and I will. They’ll kill me when they find out that I knew about Axel’s son and didn’t tell them. Axel will hate me. Yourmomwill hate me.”
He searches my eyes. Sire can see your soul, and he softly smiles. “They’ll never hurt you or hate you. Hate resides in an evil heart, like in my father, but not in my family. They love my wife almost as much as I do.”
I blink back tears. “But your brothers? You said you’re all brutal.”
“We are. We kill for a cause, but wedon’thate. We won’t be like our father.”
“So, they’ll forgive you? About Axel’s son?”
His eyes glance to the night sky, to heaven above. “I’ll die trying for their forgiveness.”
I grab his shirt. “Sire, don’tsaythat.”
“It’s a figure of speech.” He cradles my head to his chest, kissing my hair. With a deep, resigned sigh, he vows, “Okay. I’ll hire the cousins to get rid of Viktor, but I won’t go. I’ll stay here with you.”
“Promise?” I exhale, snotting his shirt.
“Yeah, because it feels like it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
He pulls back, lifting my chin with his half-pinky. “You don’t trust that my brothers will always love you. That you’re ours forever, no matter what. So, it’s time we initiate you. I want you to feel it. To believe it. I think you’re ready.”
The flip in my heart is instant. This feels true. Right. Destined. Dolly-approved and written in the twinkling stars above. I’m suddenly safe … and seduced.
“You’ll really let them, uh …initiateme?”
He lowers his brow. “I’ll let thembondwith you.”
“Bond? But, I thought we fu?—”
Knowingly, he grins. “You have to feel our bond to believe it.”
“When?” Me and my blurts. They can really fuck up my fucking plans. I shrug, blasé. “I mean…whenever.”
Laughing, he tucks me under his arm, leading me toward the brewery. “Let me take care of business first before I take care of my eager little queen.”
If I could skip jubilantly to the brewery door, I would.
“What’ll you have?I got a zero-carb seltzer the ladies like.”
“Well…” I tap my lips, asking the bartender, “I ain’t a lady, so what would a Glock-carrying wife drink? One who’s underage?”
He winks, impressed. “You’ll like our Dead Russian Stout.”
Sire mutters in his brew, “I heard that.”
The bartender’s name is Bishop. He’s one of the crazy, killer cousins who turns around … and with those broad shoulders and those jeans and that ass? I watch him pull pints and pussy. Holy beer hops, he’s hot. Every woman at the bar is drooling.
For Bishop. For Wilder. For Remi.
Catnip must be in their brew.
“Yeah, give her the high-test stuff.” Wilder sits beside me on a barstool, crowing, “Let’s put some hair on her pretty little chest.”
