I’ve changed a lot since then.
And the guys?
Well, you know what they say? Can’t teach old dogs new tricks. That’s what they are to me: mutts.
Crown’s words ring in my head each and every time I see him: “Go to your room, Gidget, and keep your mouth shut.” He said that after making love to me, and he hasn’t spoken to me since. At this point, his mere presence is like a knife to my heart, each word he doesn’t say to me a twist of the blade.
And Cade Grainger? Well. Fuck Grainger. He’s been a walking, talking dickhead, hissing things under his breath at me that make me grit my teeth in rage. Even then, I can’t see him and not think about the way he looked at me that night, with possession burning in his gaze.
Beast … Beast has been watching me from a distance, like he’s waiting for something. What that is, I’m not entirely certain. Part of me wonders if the solution to my problem with him wouldn’t be to just ask. I’m too proud, maybe. Or too afraid of what he might say in response.
“Hello, Sin,” I reply, just as coolly, looking at the fourth member of my demon brigade, and very likely the one who’s pissed me off the most. Don’t we have a connection of some sort? Didn’t he used to care for me in a way that nobody else bothered to?
So why act like nothing at all happened between us?
Nothing.
As Gaz likes to say, “Once I get the pussy, I’m outta there.” He thinks it’s funny for men to seduce women and run. Is that what they all think? Am I a conquest? A notch on their belts?
The dark parts of me surged that night, clawed their way to the forefront of my mind and demanded release. I thought I might be able to let them out, too, to revel in the shadows rather than run from them. I’m not sure, what, exactly, I wanted from these men, but apathy was not it.
I continue to smoke my cigarette as I stare at Sin, wondering if I should just blurt the truth about my plans for the day and see if I can get a reaction. He’d be pissed, I’m sure. Does Sin know that I slept with Beast? Crown? He knows about Grainger, obviously, but what else?
“I’m going to take a pregnancy test today,” I tell him with a cruel smile, and the tight one attached to his handsome face slides away like water off a duck’s back.
“A pregnancy test?” he asks, and I’m sure he’s wracking his brain trying to remember if he wore a condom that night. He was, after all, very, very drunk. “Grainger and I both …” And here he grits his teeth and scowls. Any reminder of Cade Grainger is likely to do that to a person. “We both wore condoms. Did one of them break?”
“This is not because of you or Grainger,” I assure him, flicking my cigarette aside and picking up my lemon slushy from the ground. I suck on the end of the straw, the slurping sound taking up the awkward silence between us.
Sin’s brows draw together as a frown blooms on that wicked sharp mouth of his.
“I’m never going to kiss you again, Gidge. It’s too risky.” More whispered words from that night, worth little more than purple prose in a book that has no happy ending.
Risky. Because of Cat? Because of my age? Because when we touch each other, desire burns and the promise of something more flares in the distance like a bloodred sun dipping into the sea?
He reaches up to tousle his short, purple hair with his tattooed right hand. There’s a fresh design there, an American flag wrapped around a knife. All of Sin’s tats are like that, Americana and Sailor Jerry designs. He’s like a classic car, something pretty and red with a leather interior and an engine that’s just a little too loud.
Even though taking that car out for another drive would almost certainly end in a fiery crash, I still want it. That’s how toxic these men are to me. I know not to expect anything from them, from this life, from the club. Yet I do. I did.
I guess I thought they … well, I assumed I was more than just a fuck. I woke up that next morning with hope, this foreign, sticky thing that causes more harm than good. Hope does not get you anywhere but to the ass-end of disappointment.
With a snort, I shove away from the wall and head toward the front door.
Because the universe hates me, because having my sisters murdered just wasn’t enough, my bad luck continues, and I run right into Gaz. As soon as he sees me, a scowl darkens his face, and his hands clench into fists. I’m convinced that if given the choice, he’d have given me to the mafia in exchange for Posey or Queenie. Maybe he’d have given me to them for free? Who knows?
