In most Mafias and secret societies, a significant other is listed as an untouchable, which alerts their rivals that action against that person is where the battle lines are drawn. Violating that decree always results in bloodshed. For us, it’s even more consequential. As the safe haven for countless organizations, a hit against us or someone we submit as ours is an act of war against us and all our members. It’s certain death. For the entire group who initiated it.
Just like it is for Mercy, a hit on Tessa, once she’s declared to be mine, would have the vast majority of the underworld warring on her behalf.
“I can’t issue it unless this is permanent,” he warns.
While an immediate marriage isn’t necessary for me to claim her, like it would be in some of our members’ organizations, since we make our own rules, we still can’t be frivolous with that privilege.
“I’m aware,” I assure him.
He swipes an ash-brown strand of hair off his forehead before he rubs his temple, evidently at his wits’ end. “Is she in?”
This is always his concern. Are we choosing someone who will choose us back?
Anxiety needles my skin. I take my knife back out of my pocket and flick it around. “There’s been a lot thrown at her in a short amount of time, but I’ll make certain she is.”
Again, my attention sails to the woman who has turned my world upside down. Our eyes lock, and she smiles even though she’s furious about what I said in the car. She’s too fucking headstrong for warnings and ultimatums. A quality that will serve her well in this role, but also one that will likely have her pissed at me much of the time. Because they’re necessary. And yet I think she’s slowly understanding that I’m not trying to snuff out her spirit. All I want is to give her a place she’s free to soar.
I doubt she even realizes what she’s done for me. To outsiders, I’ve always appeared easygoing, dancing through life. And that’s accurate, in part. I kept my knife and music as a barrier between myself and intimacy though.
Blades and ballads were my comfort, but I was so fucking lonely. More than I realized.
For as long as I can remember, I thought if I just kept going, filled my life with noise, didn’t commit to anyone, and simply did my own thing that I could outrun those ghosts that reeked of soot and chanted an endless ringing. But I was wrong. It wasn’t keeping a beat that brought me peace. It was finally stilling to hold the unexpected beauty who could bestow it.
My strong, relentless, unwavering Nightmare, chasing away all those haunting spirits.
Turning back to the men who would understand that more than anyone could, I say as much in a simpler way. “Mom would have really loved her.”
The full weight of that statement settles on them, and deciding I’ve devoted enough time to this discussion, I rush over to Tessa, scoop her up, and crash my mouth to hers. She’s reserved at first, which I anticipated, but then she cups my face, opens for me, and purrs into my mouth with the sweep of her tongue. Other than that, I keep it PG because Remy is running around. But hopefully, she sees that nothing about us is a secret as far as I’m concerned.
“You’re grabbing my breast,” she points out through gritted teeth.
“Oh fuck.” I tame my smile, glancing between her doll-like face and her perky tit in my hand. “Look at that. I was just internally praising myself for keeping it clean.”
She huffs a quiet chuckle. “Now that you’re aware, you should probably fix it.”
“Nah.” I peck her sweet nose and switch to the other breast as I sway her to the music. “These are mine now. I’ll grope as I please.”
She either loves that or is ready to kill me. That’s always a fine line with Tessa.
“Since you two are practically dirty dancing …” Jax’s voice trails off.
When I pull back, he’s at the record player. He’s as sober as ever, despite his inner monsters surely raging after this morning’s ordeal. He flashes a conspiratorial grin at us. One that Mercy reads before he even elaborates.
She hops off the couch and slides the coffee table aside.
“Couldn’t hurt to get some practice in,” Jax drawls with his signature beat-too-long pause between words, “before tomorrow’s festivities.”
We have a Last Man Standing dance competition for the employees at our Independence celebration. Because our roots are Prohibition-inspired, at least every few songs are electro swing, and the corresponding dance moves are required. It adds an element of difficulty to the already ridiculous event.
Tessa shakes her head. “Dancing isn’t really my thing, so—”
“It’s the only approved foreplay today,” Cash pipes up. “We’ve already had the hot tub drained and disinfected.”
Her face blushes crimson. Bashfulness on my girl is a rarity, so I drink it in.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispers.
Not quiet enough though. My brothers and Mercy all howl with laughter. Even Remy and his puppy join in—without grasping the humor.
