I check myself in the mirror, inspect the bruising, particularly the one on my hip, where Killian caressed…strokingthe tender flesh…my dick perking up… He didn’t seem to give a fuck whether I wanted him touching me like that, and yet, as he pointed out, I didn’t tell him not to. Maybe I just figured it was useless when he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted to my body anyway. Yes, that must be it. What was the sense in fighting? Although, given how much I resisted him about everything else, it’s hard to use that as a justification.
I shake that off and hop in the shower, rinsing off the sweat from the fuck I was in the middle of and from the fight with his fucking cronies. Jaime and Krychek. I’ll have to remember their names and make them pay for how they treated me.
I’ll also have to find a way to get Killian back because no one treats a Wilde like he did.
If only our situation wasn’t complicated enough already.
After my shower and brushing my teeth, I throw a towel around my waist and hurry to find Masters and Wrath. I’m hungry as hell, so on my way, I stop by the kitchen and grab a sub from the fridge.
I discover them in the pool with a crew of guys and girls, playing volleyball, totally oblivious to my absence last night.
“Well, this isn’t what I was expecting the morning after being abducted,” I say.
Wrath laughs. “Abducted? Oh yeah, Killian reached out to let us know he had a surprise birthday present for you. And we worked something out with Lowes and Hayes. Holy shit. Where’d you get those shiners? Wait. Killian didn’t do that to you, did he?”
“No, it was the girl. What the hell do you think?”
“Just a minute, guys,” Masters says, squeezing one of the guys’ asses, then swimming over to us.
“We need to talk,” I say through my teeth, and they glance at one another, knowing this is serious by my tone. It’s something Ieither inherited from our father or developed a decent imitation of because it’s very effective.
The guys get out of the pool and grab their towels, wiping down.
Masters tells Baxter, “Keep our guests happy. Give them whatever drinks they want.”
“Clearly, you both had a better night than I did,” I say.
“Is this about the present Killian gave you?” Wrath asks, and I glare at him.
“He abducted me.”
“For, like, a birthday surprise,” Wrath says. “How many times have we done that with each other? It was your twenty-seventh. I figured he’d give you a Lamborghini.”
“Definitely didn’t get a car. Just these bruises and psychological trauma.”
Wrath assesses my injuries. “This isn’t making any sense. They’re our allies.”
“You don’t know the half of things not making any sense.”
“And you talking cryptically doesn’t help anything.”
Jesus, I’m starting to sound as evasive as Killian was with me last night, but for a different reason, because it’s not the kind of thing I’m eager to share with my brothers.
I lead them into Dad’s office, and Wrath removes his towel, so he’s just in his Speedo. He tosses it onto the love seat adjacent to the desk while Masters beelines for the liquor cabinet.
“Anyone else want a martini?” Masters asks. “I can make my Cutthroat specialty.”
I’m annoyed that alcohol’s what’s on his mind when I have something so serious to discuss, but I also could use a little something to take the edge off. “Sure.”
“Of course,” Wrath says, and Masters gets to work. Of the four of my siblings, he’s the best at mixing drinks.
Wrath waits for me to be out with the news, and I should just tell them, but now that I’m sobering up, it’s hard to imagine getting any of this out with a straight face.
“What is it, man?” Wrath asks.
“Killian had something he wanted to talk to me about. He—”
Masters shakes up the martini—convenient timing, as ever—earning glares from Wrath and me. He continues shaking, ignoring the attitude like we’re not annoyed as fuck, then starts pouring into three glasses on the bar.
