Page 32 of The Gathering
“What did you say? In French?”
“I said‘youshouldbe a mess without me’. Are you locked in?”
“I’m in your room upstairs,” she said, back to crying.
“That is perfect, just like you, Angel,” he whispered. “I will be in your arms soon.”
And God help whatever got in his way.
“Bishop!” she shot out quietly.
“What, Mah Belle Ange?”
She choked out a single sob. “I’m so happy that you found me that night.”
This angel.
“I would gladly suffer anything to have you,” she whispered hotly.
“It is you who found me, Ma Petite. And when I found you, I found heaven. Before you, I was living in hell. Fuck, Ma Petite, your tears are breaking my heart.”
“I’m sorry,” she wailed quietly. “You areso, sobeautiful. I love you so much. Please, please be safe, I need you.”
Mon Dieu. “I’ll keep you on the phone with me, this meeting won’t take long, oui? You’ll be in my pocket. Right next to my cock,” he added hoping to distract her.
She gave him the sexiest, desperate moan and tiny, “Okay,” that made him need to fuck her like an animal. “Thank you.”
“You will thank me properly later. I’m at the door.”
“Okay. I’ll be laying in our bed,” she said, voice strained with emotion.
“Pleasure yourself for me,” Bishop said quietly, his sexual hunger mixing with his growing blood lust. “That’s a fucking order,” he added, sliding the phone in his back pocket.
He locked his mind on the immediate shitstorm and knocked on the door then entered the chaotic conversation in Bullet’s living room.
“Anybody locate 8-Bit or Cat yet?” Bishop called out, wondering where the fuck he could be.
“Negative,” Hurricane said as the rest of his brother’s all said the same.
“Spook, hit his phone with the Reveille alarm,” Bishop said. “We need him, and every single body on deck.”
“So, what’s going on with these so-called Dead Kings?” Spar asked.
Bishop remembered Beth’s ears were in his pocket then decided her knowing the exact truth was mandatory given her position. “Nidev thinks they’re building an army, but I’m not convinced, not until we learn that with our own eyes.”
“What do you think’s happening?” Nitro asked.
Bullets arrived with a big bowl of gumbo and Bishop stared at it for several seconds, his gifts interpreting the simple gesture like some foreign anomaly.
“You should eat,” Bullets said.
His words entered the high-speed warfare in his head and instantly became a critical command. He took the bowl and answered the basic human need that had been pushed down to the bottom of a long list of other logistical needs. All of them survival related.
“There’s plenty, brother,” Bullets muttered, as he wolfed down the contents.
“Fuck, this is good,” Bishop breathed, wishing the spoon was bigger. He brought the bowl to his mouth and drank the rest down, sounds of ecstasy in his throat.
At the last drop of fuel, he stood there with his eyes closed, breathing through the satisfying aftermath.
