Page 61 of Knot Without My Permission
“Seems counterproductive,” Ransom offers.
“I need a fucking drink,” Devon groans, putting his weapon away.
I can feel Marie sag against me in relief, though I won’t allow anyone to see it.
“I don’t know what we have left,” Marie replies honestly, straightening her spine.
“Whiskey,” Wilder says. “It’s all I’ll stock outside of beer now that I know you prefer it.”
She’s already changing our pack more than she knows. Wilder doesn’t enjoy whiskey, unless it’s a certain Irish brand. Funny enough, that’s what he brings out with several glasses, and Marie sighs as she glances at the couch.
“I’ll pay for it,” Devon offers. “I’ll call it emotional restitution or some shit like that. Should we worry about the cops?”
“I deleted the calls to dispatch just now,” Storm says. “Our neighbors are having some issues with getting calls through now to the police station.”
“Hope no one has an actual emergency,” I say, grunting when Marie elbows me in the stomach.
“I’m so glad I’m not the only brother she beats up,” Devon says.
No, but I am the only one who gets to grovel for forgiveness between her creamy thighs and that suits me just fine.
“Let’s go to the roof,” Wilder suggests, staring balefully at the couch.
“I’ll put in the order for a replacement and take it out of your account,” Storm says, shaking his head. “The Monroe brothers can’t be house trained apparently.”
“I’m not a Monroe, but that’s no less true,” Devon confirms. “I should let Martyr in. He dislikes the cold.”
It’s funny to think the alpha could let a little thing like that bother him, and I pull her in the direction of the stairs before Martyr can see me. He can figure out I’m alive where there’s less shit to break.
As we walk up the stairs, I murmur in Marie’s ear, “My mom is a Monroe.”
I don’t know what came over me when I decided to change it. My mom didn’t give a fuck about me and left me with a monster. However, I knew I wanted to do things my own way, and that meant not keeping my father’s name.
We all pave our own paths when we strike out on our own, and this is how I chose to do it.
At least I got Devon from my father’s inability to keep it in his pants and inability to wear a condom. It’s a wonder he didn’t die from syphilis instead of a gunshot wound.
Whatever the wheel of karma dictates, that’s not how I want to go. I’ll hold on with the skin of my teeth, as long as I can snatch more moments with my girl curled against me on our rooftop, shooting the shit with the people who mean the most to me.
“Holy fuck, how many lives are you on?” Martyr exclaims as he finds me lounging on the couch with Marie.
“One less,” I admit, bringing my whiskey to my lips.
It’s a lesson to be less trusting, even if they are one of the club’s chapters.
Chapter Fourteen
Marie
I’m getting dressed for the day when Ransom joins me in the bedroom. I slept in bed with them all last night, and I didn’t have a single bad dream. I simply sunk into the darkness while being cocooned in warmth. I’m starting to realize the bond sickness begins to act up whenever Lore leaves the building I’m in, but I don’t know how that’ll work in a place like a hospital.
Is it restrained to a set amount of feet between us? Lore went inside last night while I was on the roof, and I had to follow him when a wave of pain and nausea hit me. I didn’t say anything, I simply stood up and hurried after him.
Devon is on his way home now with Martyr, and they agreed not to say anything to their club. This secret feels as if it’s keeping Lore safe with me. I’m not sure if that’s true or not, yet I don’t want to share him with the world yet.
I checked his chest wound today, and the antibiotics are doing their job. Now, if he’ll just sit for two seconds, maybe he’ll actually fucking heal.
“Stop scowling, Sugar,” Ransom teases me, coming into the room. “I have a wardrobe change suggestion for you.”
