And Cade Grainger? Well. Fuck Grainger. He’s been a walking, talking dickhead, hissing things under his breath at me that make me grit my teeth in rage. Even then, I can’t see him and not think about the way he looked at me that night, with possession burning in his gaze.
Beast … Beast has been watching me from a distance, like he’s waiting for something. What that is, I’m not entirely certain. Part of me wonders if the solution to my problem with him wouldn’t be to just ask. I’m too proud, maybe. Or too afraid of what he might say in response.
“Hello, Sin,” I reply, just as coolly, looking at the fourth member of my demon brigade, and very likely the one who’s pissed me off the most. Don’t we have a connection of some sort? Didn’t he used to care for me in a way that nobody else bothered to?
So why act like nothing at all happened between us?
Nothing.
As Gaz likes to say, “Once I get the pussy, I’m outta there.” He thinks it’s funny for men to seduce women and run. Is that what they all think? Am I a conquest? A notch on their belts?
The dark parts of me surged that night, clawed their way to the forefront of my mind and demanded release. I thought I might be able to let them out, too, to revel in the shadows rather than run from them. I’m not sure, what, exactly, I wanted from these men, but apathy was not it.
I continue to smoke my cigarette as I stare at Sin, wondering if I should just blurt the truth about my plans for the day and see if I can get a reaction. He’d be pissed, I’m sure. Does Sin know that I slept with Beast? Crown? He knows about Grainger, obviously, but what else?
“I’m going to take a pregnancy test today,” I tell him with a cruel smile, and the tight one attached to his handsome face slides away like water off a duck’s back.
“A pregnancy test?” he asks, and I’m sure he’s wracking his brain trying to remember if he wore a condom that night. He was, after all, very, very drunk. “Grainger and I both …” And here he grits his teeth and scowls. Any reminder of Cade Grainger is likely to do that to a person. “We both wore condoms. Did one of them break?”
“This is not because of you or Grainger,” I assure him, flicking my cigarette aside and picking up my lemon slushy from the ground. I suck on the end of the straw, the slurping sound taking up the awkward silence between us.
Sin’s brows draw together as a frown blooms on that wicked sharp mouth of his.
“I’m never going to kiss you again, Gidge. It’s too risky.” More whispered words from that night, worth little more than purple prose in a book that has no happy ending.
Risky. Because of Cat? Because of my age? Because when we touch each other, desire burns and the promise of something more flares in the distance like a bloodred sun dipping into the sea?
He reaches up to tousle his short, purple hair with his tattooed right hand. There’s a fresh design there, an American flag wrapped around a knife. All of Sin’s tats are like that, Americana and Sailor Jerry designs. He’s like a classic car, something pretty and red with a leather interior and an engine that’s just a little too loud.
Even though taking that car out for another drive would almost certainly end in a fiery crash, I still want it. That’s how toxic these men are to me. I know not to expect anything from them, from this life, from the club. Yet I do. I did.
I guess I thought they … well, I assumed I was more than just a fuck. I woke up that next morning with hope, this foreign, sticky thing that causes more harm than good. Hope does not get you anywhere but to the ass-end of disappointment.
With a snort, I shove away from the wall and head toward the front door.
Because the universe hates me, because having my sisters murdered just wasn’t enough, my bad luck continues, and I run right into Gaz. As soon as he sees me, a scowl darkens his face, and his hands clench into fists. I’m convinced that if given the choice, he’d have given me to the mafia in exchange for Posey or Queenie. Maybe he’d have given me to them for free? Who knows?
“Got anything in there for me?” Gaz asks as he nods in the direction of the grocery bag, ever the consummate prick.
“Unless you like tampons, no,” I say with a smarmy smile of my own. “Maybe you need one? To put up your ass? You seem to be in a bad mood, so I figured you were on your cycle or something.”
My brother knocks the bag from my hand and then snatches my wrist in hard, strong fingers. He yanks me close to him, leaning over me in a pathetic attempt at intimidation. Thing is, I fucked Beast who, by anyone’s estimation, is about a thousand times scarier than stupid, thickheaded Gaz.
“One day, that mouth of yours is going to get you into serious trouble, little sister.” He shoves me back before releasing me and leaving through the front door, passing Sin as he storms out. The latter follows him with eyes made up of storm clouds, gray and wary and near to bursting. There’s anger there, but it hides like lightning in a tempest.
Sin turns back to me.
“Who was it?” he asks belatedly, in a voice that’s too detached to take seriously. I ignore him as I bend down to retrieve the bag. “A guy from school?”
“Jesus,” I snort, shaking my head and shoving up to my feet. “That’s what you think of me? That I’d sleep with you and Grainger, then run off and start banging guys at school? Maybe that’s how you operate, but I’m not like that.”
The problem here is: the guys at school do nothing for me. How could they? I’m surrounded by big, beautiful men dressed in ink and leather and crowned with glorious pain. Undeveloped teenage puberty monsters don’t have the power to make me ache inside my bones, to turn my blood molten, to make me hurt so good that I start to like the feel of it.
Besides that, we have nothing in common.
Really, I have nothing in common with anyone my age. Other sixteen-year-olds spend their days fantasizing about crushes, about drivers’ licenses, about future college plans. They’ve never seen their mother ride a man’s dick in front of them, never seen their dad shoot one of his dealers in the knee, never seen their pregnant sister shot and killed.
I choke on the feelings and storm up the stairs with Sin still following along behind me.
I turn on him at the top of the stairs, my eyes threatening to burn with tears that I would rather die than shed. That night was … well, it held dark magic for me. I let myself fall into the shadows of the world, so I didn’t have to pretend there was any light left. When I did that, when I tumbled and twisted through the void, they caught me. The four of them.
It’s hard to deny that I felt something then, something akin to belonging in a way I’ve never felt before. I was a queen with four knights who were mine and mine alone. They served me. They rode their chrome stallions into battle for me.
Of course, it was all a fantasy. I know that. I knew it even then but seeing the guys’ reactions after that night is hard for me to deal with.
“Does it matter who it was?” I ask him, nearly breathless. I shouldn’t allow myself to keep hoping, but it happens anyway. Maybe I just enjoy the taste of discontentment? Say something to me, I beg in my mind. Say something stupid like ‘I wish it were me’ or ‘You’re mine, Gidge’. Instead, Sin looks away toward the wall, his left hand tight around the banister.