Page 102 of Sire
And obvious.
The intercoastal sparkles outside the yacht’s windows. It’s a mild day on our cruise toward the Florida Keys. Our hosts are six of the finest people I’ve ever seen—three buxom women and three beefy men—doubling down on their allure by wearing swim trunks and bikinis.
Call me starstruck, but Redix Dean looks like a golden surf God with his arm draped over his wife, Cade, and his other arm slung over his co-star, Daniel Pierce, who’s a British superhunk and hero. All while Charlie, Daniel’s badass wife, proudly reclines in Redix’s lap.
Or call me aroused because I clock how Redix strokes Daniel’s shoulder. How Cade caresses Charlie’s thigh. How Silas has one hand possessively on his wife, Eily, with his other, comfortably touching Cade’s neck, all while his bare leg is snared over Redix’s.
“Have we met before?” Redix aims his famous Romeo eyes at mine. They’re heated and intense.
“Not that I’m aware.”
“I wouldn’t call it ameeting,” Daniel adds with a smirk. “It was more like a performance, and you were the very big star.”
I cock an eyebrow, confused.
“In Atlanta,” Daniel reveals, and my pulse skyrockets. “Redix and I film there, and thoroughly enjoyed watching your show from a VIP room in a club one night.”
“Dear Lord, my pastor.” Silas grins, groping me with a curious look. “They told me about it the next night, and I got a veryhardimpression of how much they liked what they saw.”
Jesus, Jesus.
My heart would explode if I hadn’t already told Wren about my past at the fetish club in Atlanta. Of course, my brothers are also aware of it. They’ve indulged their kinks there, too.
Back in the day, this would be my kind of party. I know The Six are bisexual. Anyone with a pulse would find them attractive.
But today? It threatens to be a bloodbath.
Most of them despise Axel and Nash, while I feel like a visual buffet for ravenous men. My dick would soar if I didn’t have an even bigger problem.
“Look…” I squeeze Wren, and she palms my chest. That’s her signal; she’s not mad about the Atlanta comment. “Clearly, we have a lot in common. But we’re here today because my associates and I are after the same people you were, and we need your help. We’re missing puzzle pieces, and you have them.”
“Why should we give them to you?” Cade asks. She’s the former cop and the one who needs to trust us.
“Because you busted Senator Evans and Claude Olan Turner the third,” Nash answers her. “They’re in jail, and now Turner’s son has taken over. He’s young, ruthless, and ambitious. He’s expanding his trade.”
Redix lifts his chiseled chin. “Why do you care?”
“My parishioners come to me for help,” I explain. “They tell me about people in trouble, and Axel, Nash, and I are part of a secret group that gets justice when the cops don’t.”
“Why do men like you want justice?”
Charlie challenges us. She’s almost as famous as her husband, Daniel, but for heroic reasons. She’s a former Marine with a scar on her stunning face to prove it.
“Because it’s wrong,” Axel fumes. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
“Because I’m a father,” Nash adds. “I have a daughter, and I give a shit about those girls. We want to help them.”
Eyes read eyes.
Muscles tense.
There’s not a smile in the room, while the tension is so heavy, it could sink this vessel.
“Because,” Wren calmly explains, “I was one of the women they rescued from those traffickers. Sire even let them cut off his finger for me. My men work for a woman who survived trafficking, too. They’re good men, doing dangerous work, and we need your help. Please.”
Sweetly, Nash touches Wren’s thigh. It’s not sexual. It’s protective. It makes me agree with Wren; Nash is meant to be her second king.
Cade nods at Wren, and it makes me agree with Nash, too.
