I sit with the words for a moment before a realization hits me. “Maybe because Ineedto break him.”
12
LOGAN
“I’m fine, I’mfine,” Wrath insists.
“You don’t look fine with your face all bandaged up,” Masters remarks.
Between the bandages and the black and blue, it doesn’t look good, but I was relieved he was well enough for us to transport back to Hayward. Our family does better here, in the place we grew up, surrounded by our loved ones and protectors.
Even if that couldn’t save Dad.
The relief of knowing Wrath is okay is only slightly spoiled by the events that transpired at Rothguard: How Killian forced me to blow him. How he blackmailed me into taking that fat cock between my lips in a way that still makes them tingle. How he tricked me into swallowing his load, which must have moved through my digestive tract by now, but I swear I can feel him staining my belly, which makes my cock shift if I think about it too long.
It shouldn’t make me hard, but even tearing Sik Vik apart gave me an erection. Torturing a man like that satisfies something deep within me, but it’s not a sexual experience, so in the same way, I’m sure there’s some fucked-up reason why my dick responds to thinking about sucking Killian’s cock like that. Because it sure as hell didn’t turn me on at the time, even if it wasn’t the nightmare I would’ve expected.
Of course it wasn’t. I knew it was the way to avenge my brother. That was what mattered. I did it. The end.
But with our agreement still in place, I know that’s far from the truth.
“Guess you won’t be able to say you never got a broken nose now,” I remark.
“I’m still hot as hell.” Wrath shrugs it off, clearly not letting it bother him as much as it bothers me. He rests his head against the pillow, groaning, then turning to Masters and pouting like he might have when he was younger and had fallen sick. “Lil’ bro, can you make me some of your fettuccini for lunch?”
“We can get Baxter to make that.”
Wrath exaggerates his pout even more. “But it’s so much better whenyoudo it for me,” he says like a helpless child.
Masters rolls his eyes, shooting me a look. “I’d better, then. Glad my big brother’s okay, though.”
He hugs us before heading out.
“Don’t forget the garlic bread!” Wrath calls out, which earns him a “Fuck off!”
Jacked up as that lopsided smile of Wrath’s is, it’s a relief to see it today, when Sik Vik’s actions could have easily left him severely injured…or killed him.
“So, you know I won’t be allowing you to fight again,” I say.
“Anytime soon, you mean?”
I grit my teeth.
“Oh, come on. Shit happens, Log.”
“Are our lives really not dangerous enough? Do you really have a fucking death wish?”
“I only live once, so I’d like to enjoy it while I can,” he spits back.
Typical Wrath.
“Sorry, but life isn’t just about having fun, is it?” I say, trying to put some pressure on him.
“If you’re gonna act like Dad, then I can treat you like him. Okay, I’ll never ever fight again. That’s never gonna happen.You’re right about everything. I’m wrong. I’m so sorry, and I will forever do as you wish.”
This was always his way. Masters would put up a fight with Dad, but Wrath’s gift has always been pathological lying, and he would tell Dad what he wanted to hear and then do exactly what he wanted to anyway. I don’t understand how we could have the same blood pumping through our veins. Although, I suppose none of the Wildes are all that similar. We each have our own place in the family, our unique relationship to the position and the responsibilities we carry. I suppose that’s the way most families are. It’s probably the same for the Lordes. Or at least, it was before the Folcrums wiped out most of Killian’s family.
“Anyway…” Wrath drags out. “I’ll be eager to find this Sik Vik and kick his damn ass. Or worse.”
