Page 127 of Sire
“Say another word about my wife’s pretty little chest.” Sire, perched beside me, doesn’t even need to look at Wilder. His sarcastic tone tolls with a lethal threat.
“Damn, little Disney princess.” Wilder elbows me, muttering his drawl, “Someone’s sounding all shanky again.”
Does the young Brad Pitt know he has a redneck twin? Wilder Pitt. Is that his full name?
“Just take the job,” Sire insists, wrapping his arm around me. “You got twenty-four hours before he sets sail.”
Bishop sets a full glass in front of me. I glance at his big hands.You know what they say about men with long fingers.
“And if someone asks?” Big Bishop probes, “Like your brothers? Like Jace? He’s in here all the time.”
Sire shrugs. “It was anonymous. As usual.”
“How many?” Remi, a man of few words, hovers behind us. He makes me anxious. And aroused. Remi glares like he just got sprung from prison, where he served time for the illegal distribution of female orgasms.
“Have fun.” Sire takes another sip. “Get as many as you want. I’m only after one.”
“I don’t know.” Wilder spins a cardboard coaster. “Lately, I’m bored. I need motive, not money for murder.”
Bishop cuts him a look, venting low, “Hey, dumbass. Karaoke starts in thirty minutes. Turn off the microphone in front of your fucking teeth until then.”
I perk up. “Karaoke?”
“Oh shit,” Sire mutters.
Bishop grins at my excitement. “You a fan?”
“Yeah,” Sire answers for me. “But you won’t be. Not once she’s done.”
“Uh!” I backhand his arm. “I’m a karaoke champ. I don’t even need the words on the screen.”
Sire pulls me in for a kiss. “Yeah, Angel. Lyrics? Who needs ‘em?”
I mutter over his luscious lips. “When will you initiate me?”
His lips find my ear. “We’llbondwith you, and I’m thinking in Atlanta. Tomorrow night.”
I’mnot thinking at all.
Shivering with delight, I tune out his conversation with the cousins. How can I pick a song from the karaoke menu when I can only imagine what my test will be?
After our night on the superyacht with The Six and Nash and Axel, it’s like Sire wanted me to himself again, and honestly, I liked it.
I’ll always cherish it.
It’s our normal: me and Sire, cuddling in bed after hot sex. I rest my head on his inked chest while he plays with my curls, and we muse about our kids’ names one day.
I love our quaint life. It’s all baking, music, church, and tactical training.
Sire hides guns everywhere and takes me target shooting once a week. Every Tuesday night, Jace and Grant teach me and Delphine Krav Maga. Sire says he can’t hurt me, so he lets his brothers try.
Poor Jace, I really kicked him in the dick last week. Jokingly, I offered to kiss it and make it better. I thought Jace was joking when he replied, “Next time.”
I guess he wasn’t joking.
Finally, the karaoke begins, and I’m third to go. Belting Madonna’s “Like A Virgin,” I’m seducing my husband.
He sits at the bar, a proud lion hungrily grinning at his intended mate. My lure, irresistible. My voice, a siren’s song. Or so I assume, until I’m done and Sire’s pulling me into his lap with a laughing kiss.
