As for love… I don’t know if it’s possible for her to ever love me. I know that, even if she did, I’ll always love her more—and while earning her love is one of my greatest goals, I’m under no illusion that I’ll succeed. But, in any case, having her care will be enough.
“She’s attached to me,” I say. “I don’t think she’ll leave me.”
“Attachment isn’t enough,” Cain swiftly responds. “I need to know that she’ll go through with the ritual—with pledging herself to you, me, and the Nighthawks. If she fails, you know the consequences. I might not be able to kill her, but I’ll certainly make her wish she was dead.”
“With her brother now breathing down our neck, I don’t think that’d be advisable,” I snap. “As for the ritual… I’ll make sure she’s ready. Even if she doesn’t love me, she won’t leave me.”
I expect Cain to argue. To threaten my life as well as Scarlett’s yet again—but he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his shoulders slightly. “Very well. If she fails, you’ll both pay the price. The ritual will be in exactly one month.” He jerks his chin at the door. “You’re free to go.”
I don’t wait around for him to change his mind and try to feed me some bullshit. I make my way to the door, pausing with a sigh when he calls my name.
“You do understand that I’ve done everything in my power to help you, don’t you?” Cain asks.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “No, Cain. You’ve done everything in your power to help yourself. Any benefits I happened to reap were accidental, not intentional.”
Cain’s jaw clenches, he turns his head to gaze out the window. “I won’t deny that I have my goals. I won’t even deny that, most of the time, I’m an unfeeling psychopath. But I’ve factored your future into my actions more times than I should have—and what I did to you wasforyou. It had the exact outcome I knew it would, and one you’ve benefitted from greatly. I give you leeway that I don’t give anyone else, Greyson. Believe it or not, I have your back.”
“You have no one’s back but your own.” I don’t bother telling him that I know he’s nearly killed metwice—once when he gave Scarlett oleander flowers, andthenwhen he whipped me with a fuckingnail.Without waiting for him to respond, I leave.
I’m once again stopped on my way back to Scarlett. This time, by Toby, who pauses when we pass each other by the hall.
“I have a quick question for you,” he says.
I withhold a sigh. I want to get back to Scarlett and continue my quest to get her pregnant as soon as possible. Once she’s knocked up, we can start planning for the future—but step one is getting her there. However, I always make time for the guys in my unit, so I fold my arms over my chest and face Toby. “What’s up?”
“I’d like to submit myself for consideration to partake in the tradition of Chosens,” Toby says. “I already have my woman selected. I’ve been watching her for years. We have… a history.”
My eyebrows inch upward. This is not the request I was expecting from Toby of all people—he’s neveroncestruck me as a guy who would spend his time chasing tail or obsessing over women. Then again, he’s an introvert who doesn’t talk about himself or his past very much, so I shouldn’t be entirely surprised.
“Who is she?” I ask. “What’s the history?”
His throat works as he swallows. “She’s my foster sister. As for the history…” he trails off. “We were both foster kids together. She was adopted; I was run out of the house. Our foster father was…” he shakes his head. “He did some fucked up shit nobody else knew about, so I tried to kill him. I was only eleven, and I failed. She turned on me and refused to provide an alibi or tell a story that vindicated me. I’ve seen her a couple times since, but she’s…” he trails off, shrugging. “She doesn’t see me in a good light. I think that, given some time and isolation, I could change that.” He straightens his spine. “Choose me next. Let me have her.”
I furrow my eyebrows, considering him. I assumed that Tobias came up the rough way, but I was never sure. It sounds like he’s led quite the interesting life.
“Foster sister, hmm?” I murmur. “You need to understand what this tradition means. You will be stealing a woman away from her life. It will devastate her. It will rip her away from everything she’s known. You will be the architect of her demise, and you can’t give her much time to grieve. You will have to train her to become what you want, sexually and otherwise, without breaking her. This is alifelong commitment. It’s far more serious than marriage, because here, there’s no such thing as separation or divorce. Before you move forward, ensure that this will be what’s best for both of you.”
“I’ve looked at all the angles,” Tobias says. “It is what’s best for both of us. She’s an introvert, so isolation from society won’t be the end of her world. As forourrelationship…” he shrugs. “I’ll figure it out as I move along. But she’s the one I want.”
“Take a month to think it over. Come up with a plan, and run it by me once you’re ready. If I think it’s sufficient, I’ll approve it; if I don’t, we’ll talk through any changes that need to be made. But, Toby, consider what you’re committing to and the difficulties it’ll create.”
He nods. “I will, thank you. I’ll have my proposal to you before the month’s end.”
Finally, I successfully make it to my room. Scarlett’s precisely where I expected her to be; sitting on the couch, her shiny new laptop on her lap and her phone laid on the coffee table. The furred demon is lazing on the spine of the couch, head resting on Scarlett’s shoulder, watching her as she works.
She’s so immersed in whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t even notice when I close the door behind me.
I check the time on my phone; it’s nearly midnight.
“It’s late, baby,” I say. “Go to bed and take off your clothes. I’m gonna fuck you at least once before we go to sleep.”
One round turns into three, because I can’t seem to keep my hands or cock to myself when it comes to Scarlett. I only ease up when she’s too tired to even scream, knowing I need to let her rest for a few hours.
Unfortunately for me, my phone starts buzzing with an incoming call just as my eyes are drooping and I’m starting to fall asleep. The only people who have my personal number know not to use it at night unless it’s an emergency, so I can’t very well ignore it.
Consequently, I’m forced to drag my ass out of bed—away from the warmth and softness of Scarlett’s body—and make my way out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
The Caller ID shows an unknown number, but that doesn’t phase me—most of my contacts regularly switch burners to avoid oversight from the government.
