I understand Daisy is important to Ophelia, and I’m trying not to judge her in return because she’s been through hell, but the way she’s staring at us as we move about the place is disconcerting.
I’m trying to prepare breakfast, and she’s there, watching, again. Her gaze nervously flicks between me, Roman, and Ophelia as if trying to solve a puzzle. Part of me simply wants toturn to her and say,we all fuck her at the same time, satisfied?But Ophelia would have my balls if I did that.
Instead, I grit my teeth and plaster a smile on my face. “Do you want hashbrowns with your bacon and eggs?”
We’re going to need something substantial in our stomachs before we face what’s ahead of us. We have less than forty-eight hours until this apparent mass suicide is due to take place. There’s a lot to put in place before then. We’re probably delaying more than we should, but none of us can face getting back on the road just yet. It’s not even been a full day since we’ve been back at Verona Falls, and we’re still recovering. Plus, we can’t go anywhere without the okay from Cain’s father. Trying to take on an entire cult with only the three of us is a bad idea, and the armed guards won’t leave without their boss’s say-so.
Daisy nods. “If you can spare it.”
She’s wearing another one of Ophelia’s dresses, but it fits her badly because she’s bigger than Ophelia. Not that she’s particularly curvy, but Ophelia is so petite, she makes most girls look big in comparison. She keeps tugging at the material and adjusting the neck and hemline.
Roman slept with Ophelia last night, while I was relegated to the couch because of Daisy’s presence. I’m tempted to sprinkle some sedative herbs in her food so she passes out for the rest of the day, but I don’t.
As much as I hate it, we need her.
Judging from the loose and easy way Rome has about him, I’m guessing he had a better night than I did. Not that I begrudge him that; he’s been through hell.
“Why do you have so many armed men?” Daisy blurts as one passes the window.
Ophelia sighs. “For protection.”
“They’re all for you?”
“They’re for all of us, and that includes you now, Daisy.”
She frowns, her brow creasing. “Why do I need protection?”
“In case the Prophet comes for you,” I reply for Ophelia.
Her frown morphs into something else. Embarrassment? I can’t tell, and I can normally read people pretty well. This girl is hiding something; I’m sure of it. I’m not at all certain how truthful she’s being. What if her asking us to go help at the cult is a ruse to get Ophelia back there?
She’s Ophelia’s friend, but can we trust her?
I suppose it doesn’t matter because that fucker needs dealing with one way or another. I’d prefer to have the element of surprise—and if Daisy is here at the Prophet’s request, we’ll be losing that by going back there with her. But doing nothing could mean the entire cult dying in a mass suicide pact. Unless, of course, that part is a lie, too. Can we take the risk, though? If she is telling the truth, and we ignore her, a lot of people might die. Even someone like me, who isn’t the biggest fan of humanity in general, couldn’t deal with that. The idea of what it might do to Ophelia is overwhelming. It would wreck her. Ruin her.
No, this is the path we are on now, for better or worse.
My mind supplies the next line of that well known verse. For richer or poorer.Marriage. I look at Ophelia, and something twists in my heart. I have an image, just a flash, of her marrying all three of us. She’ll be wearing white and looking ethereally beautiful as she smiles at us.
The thought makes me hard, which isn’t surprising because everything to do with Ophelia these days makes me hard. Hard cock, soft heart, addled brain, that’s what I’ve got these days because of her presence in our lives. Not that I’m complaining. I love how she makes me feel, it’s almost like being drugged.
She brushes by me, and I catch a touch of her scent riding on the air behind her, like a faithful foot soldier. Coconut, I think, and a touch of something floral. It makes me want to bury myface in her neck and inhale before kissing her throat softly and holding her to me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did her friend have such shitty timing?
We’ve been through hell. We’d lost our Pet, and we all need longer than only yesterday to reconnect with her. Forever wouldn’t be long enough, but one afternoon? And now what? We have to pussyfoot around her friend before we head off into more danger and mayhem? Just fucking peachy.
We should be spending this time screwing.
Ophelia pours glasses of juice and sets them on the kitchen table. Daisy takes a sip of hers, and her eyes roll back in her head like she just had an orgasm.
“Gosh, that’s divine.”
“You don’t have juice at the cult?” I ask.
“Atthe what?” Her retort is sharp, and there’s an edge of panic to it.
It tells me she understands exactly what the hell that place is, but she doesn’t want to face it. I get that. Denial is a huge part of being in a cult, and just to question the leader is an abomination. And truthfully, one could argue that some of the mafia organizations and families act like cults. They have their own hierarchies, outsiders are shunned, and they put their faith in one leader, so perhaps we aren’t so different after all.
