Sariah starts to say something, but I ignore her, talking over her to the boy in my arms. “Don’t do any of that, okay?” Quietly I add, “But when you do, I’m your guy.”
“He’s not four hours old, and you’re already helping him scheme?” Sariah asks.
“Yep.”
“Right on,” my fifteen-year-old niece, Renée adds, plopping down next to me. “But ifIhad a pregnancy scare…” She leaves the words hanging, and the room implodes.
“Don’t you even think about it,” Sariah starts, waving her arms from her place in bed.
“No one is getting close to you until you’re thirty,” Cian remarks. “And that’s only if we let you out of the house before then.”
“There are reasons I like you,” I say to Renée. “Shit like this is one of them.” I offer my fist, and she bumps it.
“Mom’s head is about to come off her neck.” She reaches for her brother and holds where I expect his feet are in the wrap.
“Today’s probably the only day you can pull a stunt like that.”
“Yeah. I had to take my shot since she can’t get to me fast enough right now.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Cian cranes his neck as if the distance impacts his hearing.
“Uncle stuff.” I wink at my niece, the first of my nieces and nephews. The one who made me an uncle. The one who willnever know the lengths I’ve gone to to protect her and keep her safe.
This world is crazy, but my family has me. I’m the one for which nothing is off limits.
For my family, I’d burn down the world.
And I have.
Lorien
He complains about noise but has no problem making it himself.
Okay, okay. So, it was just that one time he said no more Madonna, but still, his point was clear. He doesn’t want to be disturbed while he’s in his blinds-drawn, overly-dark house.
So why does he get to rev his stupid motorbike and have the sound echo down the alley where our garages are just as I’m falling asleep?
Well, I’ve had enough. I storm out of my back door as his motorcycle slides into one of his two bays. The other one has a huge black SUV. A nice one. And I’m momentarily distracted.
“You know what? I hate double standards. If you’re going to make noise at all hours, I get to do the same.” I spin on my bare foot and am almost to my house when something jabs the underside of my sole and I go down.
“Hey. You okay?”
Crawling away will seriously ruin my bad-ass speech, not to mention whatever is impaling me hurts like a mother. Instead, I stand, throw my shoulders back, and hobble as quickly as I can toward the three stairs at my back door, where I promptly stub the big toe of my other foot. Shit, that hurts.
“Fuck.” A loud sigh meets my ears and grates on my nerves.
“Does my pain annoy you?” I’m pissed and letting my mouthrun away with me. “Should I apologize for inconveniencing you with?—”
A cold, thick finger hits my lips. “Shhh.”
I will revolt if he just shushed me and put that cheating hand on my mouth. My eyes squint, and I give him my best bitch face. It would be more effective if I weren’t wincing.
The problem isn’t my tears, anger, or my whimpers of pain, it’s the small intake of air from his touch. Was that me or was it both of us?
His nearness—his looming presence—is less threatening than I expected… except to my body.
The cold radiates off his leather jacket, permeating my heated skin, hitting my pebbled nipples like some kind of sexual torture. My thin tee does nothing to hide it either.
