The kings may have assigned me to be her secret bodyguard, but no one made me love her.
I was born to do it.
I let Alena make me swoon with our sweet talk for minutes. I get goofy with her until I make her giggle, and we finally say goodnight.
Then, wait for it…
My phone pings.
The Queen
My office
Nine o’clock
Bring that ring
You’re not putting it on my girl’s finger
How did she know what I was up to?
I guess God works for moms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LOCH
Sitting behind her desk,Mom’s silent glare slides from each son to the next, surveying the damage on some faces, and the smirks on those happy they’re not in trouble.
Reminds me of when we were little.
If Mom busted us fighting, she’d make us sit on the front porch and hold hands with our enemy for the longest fucking hour of our lives.
Now, we’re stuffed like sardines on velvet sofas with manly inked hands, but I wouldn’t put it past her to insist on another round of sweaty palm sandwiches.
Clocking my busted eyebrow, Axel’s fat lip, and Nash’s broken nose, she warns, “I’m fixin’ to lose my religion with you boys.”
“It’s fine, Mom.” I fall on the sword. “I started it. I love Alena, and Nash has given us his blessing.”
Nash seethes, “The fact you’re not dead isnotmy blessing. It’s procrastination.”
Grant chuckles. “The things we do for pussy.”
“Not helping.” Sire side-mouths.
But Mom jumps past our bullshit. “Nash, what does Loch need to do to make this right?”
“Join a monastery. Become a eunuch.” Grant won’t fucking stop, so I stomp on his foot. “Ouch, asshole,” he hisses. “Don’t poke the princess’s pussy if you can’t take the punishment.”
“I’ve got a bullet for the next man who mentions my daughter.” Nash is boiling.
“Yeah, and I’ve got a bomb,” Mom counters. “My grandgirl was crying all night, worried about her father punching her lover.”
“God, Mom.” Axel rolls his eyes. “Don’t say ‘lover.’”
“I don’t care what y’all call it.” Mom weaves her neck. “Netflix and chill, churning her butter, eating Southern sushi, makin’ mattress music. What’ll it be?”
Sire coughs, Grant snorts, Jace bites his fist, Nick studies the ceiling, and Axel twists his bearded lips. Mom has a way with words. Laugh at them, and they become deadly weapons.
