by Katee Robert
I’m not sure Monroe and complacent have ever been used in the same sentence, but Abel seems to know what he’s doing. Especially since he’s got his two Brides in line and they’re all working together. It’s made a huge difference in our welcome in the Raider faction.
All good things.
None of it helps make Monroe easier to deal with.
She strides down the hallway, forcing me to rush to keep up with her. It doesn’t seem to matter that my legs are longer than hers. The woman is a menace.
We take the elevators down to the main floor and head out to the street. I keep waiting for it to be easier to move through the Amazon faction, but even though my childhood home was far from the city center, there’s something about the people here that are innately familiar. It doesn’t matter their gender, their race, their age; they all feel like Amazons to me. I hate that familiarity. I wish I could scrub it from my brain, could divorce myself from that identity with the same violence I divorced myself from this city the first time.
It won’t happen. If it was that easy to purge the secret demons from myself, I would have done it long ago.
The Raider truck is waiting for us at the curb, just like it is every day. I ignore the little stab of disappointment when I see Maddox behind the wheel instead of Broderick. Of course, it wouldn’t be Broderick. He hasn’t been our driver even once in the last two weeks. He’d rather cut off his arm than spend thirty minutes in an enclosed space with his Bride.
Even if I’m there, too.
At least Maddox is one of the few people Monroe doesn’t mess with. It’s fascinating, because she has no problem poking at Cohen, who’s easily the scariest motherfucker in the entire compound, but Maddox, his best-friend-sometimes-lover is where she draws the line. The big blond man is handsome and charming, and I don’t understand what he did to accomplish putting her on her best behavior when he’s around.
I’d love to be able to replicate it.
She climbs up into the truck and slides to the center of the bench seat, leaving me to follow. I yank the door shut and nod at Maddox. “Any trouble?”
“No.” He puts the truck into gear and pulls smoothly from the curb.
Monroe slouches against the seat and lays her head on my shoulder. Her shampoo teases my tenses. It took me days to identify the scent, to diagnose the maddening combination of apple, vanilla, cedar, and chrysanthemum. I should push her away, but giving her a reaction will only encourage her.
And… Maybe part of me likes the weight of her body against mine. A very, very small part.
She’s playing with my hair again, braiding several strands together in an absentminded kind of way. “Maddox, would you agree that Shiloh does a good job?”
He doesn’t look over. “I want no part of whatever you’re trying to get at, Amazon.”
“Yes, yes, I’m the very worst. We can all agree on that.” She finishes the braid and starts on another. “But it’s been three weeks since Lammas, and Shiloh has been at my side nearly every moment of it. I want to take her out for a drink to say thank you.”
Maddox glances at me, his gaze lingering on Monroe’s fingers in my hair. His handsome features look chiseled in stone in the fading light of day. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Please. If I wanted to cause trouble, I would stage an ambush on one of the trips across the river.” She smiles sweetly. “Not that I would, of course.”
“Of course not,” I murmur. “Not when your sister and uncle are still in the compound.” Quite the brilliant little hostage situation the Paine brothers have put together. We’re still sitting on a ticking time bomb with all the powerful, dangerous people living under the same roof, but they’ve managed to ensure mostly good behavior up to this point.
“Exactly.” She tilts her head to look at me. It’s only then that I realize how close we really are. It would take no effort at all to lean down and kiss her, to see if she tastes as sharp as the words she deals. Monroe’s gaze drops to my mouth. “We’ll just have a few drinks in Old Town. You can come along and ensure our good behavior. Or assign another babysitter if you don’t think Shiloh can handle it on her own.”
Oh, that was clever. From the way Maddox’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, he realizes exactly how clever. If he insists on staying, he’s effectively undermining me and saying he doesn’t believe I’m capable of doing the job they assigned me after Lammas. It wouldn’t even hurt my feelings; I’m the first to admit that Monroe really needs two handlers—or half a dozen. But Maddox is too good at balancing our people to ever pull a stunt like that. “You get an hour.”
“You’re a peach.” She snuggles closer to me, her breasts pressing against my arm.
I honestly can’t tell if Monroe is just this touchy of a person or if she uses physical contact to set people on edge. It could be both, honestly. All I know is that she’s always touching me. “Drop us at the Goat, please.”
“Will do.”
We cross the bridge back into Raider territory, and a little of the tension bleeds out of my body. No matter what Sabine Valley says about handfasting and Brides, I can’t quite believe the tentative peace is anything but an opportunity for someone ruthless and ambitious enough to break the rules. Three weeks isn’t nearly enough time to weed out potential issues in the Raider faction, but at least we’re making progress there.
In the Amazon faction?
Enemy territory doesn’t begin to cover it. Every single person I encounter is aware of what we took from them. Their heir, their spare, their queen’s beloved younger brother. They would like nothing more than to stick a knife between my ribs and leave me bleeding out on the sidewalk. They’d even do it, if not for the carefully balanced juggling act that Abel and the rest of the Paines have put into place. I don’t have to know every detail to know their entire plan rests on the assumption that Monroe and Fallon are more loyal to their family than they are to their faction. That they don’t believe in acceptable losses.
At least, acceptable losses that include their family members.
But will it continue to be so?
I have no idea.
And that keeps me up at night.
Chapter 5
Monroe
I fall in love with the Goat the moment we walk through the door. It’s a tiny bar with sticky floors, one dirty window, and a bartender who looks approximately five hundred years old. I had expected something else, with it being only one block off Old Town. That little neighborhood within the Raider faction is polished to a shine, ruled with an iron fist by the three families who own the majority of businesses contained in that three-by-seven block area. They arguably hold as much power as the Paine brothers, though they don’t bother with ruling overtly.
That shit would never fly in the Amazon faction.
But this place? It’s something else entirely. I allow Shiloh to lead the way to the bar and slide onto a stool. She looks as deliciously understated as always, wearing what I’ve come to recognize as her custom clothing and hairstyle. It’s a little plain, but I can appreciate a woman who knows what she likes and sticks to it.
I scoot my stool closer to hers just to see her narrow those pretty, hazel eyes. “Since we only have an hour, we’re going to make this count.”
“Monroe.”
I like the disapproving way she says my name. I’ve come to crave it more than I likely should during our time together. When I decided to seduce her to irritate Broderick, I never expected to enjoy her company so much. She’s not the little church mouse I first assumed. The woman has a spine of steel, and I haven’t managed to bend it even once since she became my glorified babysitter.
Ah well, I have a little over eleven months left. More than enough time. I catch Shiloh staring at my breasts when she thinks I’m not paying attention; she wants me. She doesn’t want to want me any more than Broderick does, but the desire is there all the same.
I glare at the scratched bar for a moment. Broderick. That damned coward has bee
n avoiding me since Lammas. I’ve allowed it for the time being, but I’m over it now. Three weeks is more than long enough for everyone to settle into this new rhythm of life.
Now I’m going to blow this fragile peace all to hell.
I smile at the elderly bartender. She’s a tiny Black woman who’s mostly bald, except for a tuff of gray hair hovering around her head like a stormy cloud. She glares at me. “Well? What do you want?”
“I like her already,” I whisper to Shiloh.
“I’m old, but I hear just fine.” She snaps gnarled fingers at me. “Order or get out.”
“Three shots of tequila. Each.”
“Monroe.”
The old woman cackles. “Guess you’re not so worthless, after all.” She grabs a bottle of tequila and pours six messy shots while Shiloh looks on in horror.
“You drink,” I remind her.
“A beer is not three shots of tequila.”
“Aw, love.” I bump my shoulder against hers. “This is just the appetizer. I said we’re going to make it count, and we will.”
She looks like she wants to argue but finally sighs. “Either Maddox or someone will be here to pick us up in exactly an hour. Don’t get any funny ideas.”
“I’m full of funny ideas.” I nudge three of the shot glasses in her direction and pick up my first one. “Here’s to the heat. Not the heat that brings down barns and shanties, but the heat that brings down bras and panties.” I down my shot to the sound of the bartender laughing.
Shiloh takes her shot without so much as a wince. I knew I liked this woman. She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible toast.”
“Do me one better.”
“I will.” She licks her lips and picks up the second shot. “May you work like you don’t need the money, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like no one is watching, screw like it’s being filmed, and drink like a true Irishman.”
I snort and take my shot. The tequila burns all the way down. There was a time I could hold my own with any fraternity boy, but I stopped drinking foolishly years ago. Being the heir to the Amazon faction means putting aside anything resembling weakness, and too much alcohol is exactly that. A weakness. Not that it matters now. I might still be the heir, but I’m also a glorified prisoner.
I clear my throat, not liking the direction of my thoughts. “That was poetic, love. Are you Irish? They always get poetic when they drink.”
“No.” She shrugs. “It's a toast Iris gives when she’s feeling nostalgic.” Shiloh makes a face at the third shot. “My parents would hate toasts like this, even if we were Irish. Far too crass for them.”
It’s the tiniest nugget of information, the smallest of cracks I fully intend to worm through. I run the tip of my finger along my shot glass, biting back a smile when Shiloh follows the movement. “Uptight, were they?”
“Fanatically religious, I’m afraid.” Her generous mouth turns down, her gaze going somewhere dark.
Can’t have that. Her lips were made for smiling, not frowning. Impossible to seduce a pretty woman when she’s thinking sad thoughts. I pause. Well, shit. I only get like this when I’m feeling tipsy. “It’s entirely possible that I’m a little drunk.” Whoops.
Shiloh giggles. Giggles. “It’s entirely possible that I am, too.” She grins at me, firmly back in the present. “Well, go on. Can you beat that toast?”
“Of course I can.” I lift my glass and hold her gaze. “To the kisses we’ve snatched, and vice versa.”
We take the shots, and Shiloh sets hers down with a clink. “Monroe, you’ve got a positively wicked mouth.”
“I know.” I grin at her. “I’d love to show it to you sometime.”
Pink steals across Shiloh’s face. “You’re Broderick’s Bride.”
“That’s not a no.” I reach up and brush my thumb over her skin, alcohol and lust making me even bolder than normal. The pink beneath her skin gets more intense. “I bet you blush all over your body, don’t you?”
“Monroe,” she says it like she’s pleading with me, but she leans in a little, pressing her cheek into the palm of my hand. “Bride.”
“You know as well as I do that this handfasting doesn’t mean a damn thing beyond politics.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my tone, but alcohol loosens my tongue too thoroughly.
“Still…”
I can’t stop staring at her mouth. I hadn’t mean to actually get tipsy—or even to get her tipsy. I simply thought a change of pace would be enough to get things rolling. Apparently I underestimated tequila. Too late to go back now. “I would really like to kiss you.”
“We shouldn’t.” She licks her lips. “But, uh, I’d really like you to kiss me. Just this once.”
Just this once? Over my dead body.
“Hey, Grandmother.” I speak without looking away from Shiloh’s pretty face. “You have somewhere around here where we can have a private conversation?
The old woman snorts. “Don’t try to butter me up now, blondie.”
I dig out my wallet and throw far too much cash onto the bar, alcohol and desire making my hands clumsy. “How about now?”
She eyes the cash and jerks her thumb toward a tiny door in the back corner. “Employee bathroom. Key is on a hook next to the door. Do not fuck up my space.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grab Shiloh’s hand. “Just this once,” I lie.
“Just this once.” She lets me tow her around the bar and back to the narrow door. I find the key and unlock it, and then we’re through. The room is tiny, barely large enough for a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. It’s perfect.
Shiloh pulls the door shut behind her. She blinks those big eyes at me. “This changes nothing.”
“Of course.” Another lie. I know myself well enough to recognize that one taste of this woman won’t be nearly enough. Knowing that touching her will drive Broderick out of his fucking mind is only part of the attraction. The truth is that she’s grown on me, and I want to find out if I was right that first night, if she tastes as sweet as she looks.
Shiloh doesn’t hesitate. She sinks her fingers into my hair and kisses me. She tastes like tequila and goes to my head twice as fast. I grab her hips and push her back against the door. It’s supposed to be a smooth move, but I stagger a little, and she ends up straddling my thigh.
Well, this works even better.
I nip her bottom lip, loving the way she shivers as she starts rocking against my leg. There are too many layers between us. I start to go to my knees, but she tightens her grip on my hair. “No.”
“No?” My voice is on the far side of raspy.
“The pants stay on.” She drags in a shuddering breath. “They stay buttoned.”
“Okay, love. They stay on and buttoned.” I drag my hands down her back, enjoying the way her lean muscles flex in response, and grab her ass. She’s smaller through the breasts and hips than I am, but not by much. I haven’t seen Shiloh fight, but from the way she moves and how deceptively muscular she is, I bet she’s a scrapper. “Do you really think I need to touch your skin to make you come?”
“No?”
I pause. “Is that an answer to my question, or are you telling me to stop?”
“Don’t stop.” Shiloh gives a breathless laugh. “What I’m saying is… Prove it.”
I grin against her lips. “With pleasure.” I grip her ass and pull her closer, guiding her hips in a slow, grinding motion. She catches her breath, and her head bumps the door, her eyes sliding shut. I take the opportunity to kiss up the length of her throat. Her skin is so fucking soft, it drives me out of my damned mind. I want to kiss her everywhere, to taste her, to…
I can’t focus. This is less seduction than it is a frenzy. Shiloh’s exhales shudder out, and then her hands are back in my hair, tugging my mouth up to meet hers. She rolls her body against mine, fucking my leg in a sexy writhing motion. I might be guiding her hips, but she’s the one who angles my face for a deeper kiss. She bites my bottom lip hard enough to sting. “
Don’t stop.”
“Never.” I release one hip and skate my hand up her side to cup her breast. It’s so, so tempting to delve beneath the soft fabric of her tank top, but I manage to resist. Barely. Instead, I pluck lightly at her nipple, teasing it to a hard peak through her thin bra and shirt.
She bucks a little. “Harder.”
The pretty little thing likes a dose pain with her pleasure. Of course she does. I’m quickly coming to the realization that Shiloh is a delight in every way. When I finally get her naked and in my bed, I have no doubt she’ll delight and surprise me there, too. I pinch her nipple, hard, and kiss her to muffle her moan.
She grinds down harder on my thigh, rocking frantically. Our kiss goes messy, and then she’s coming with the sweetest little whimper I’ve ever heard. I nearly orgasm myself just from that sound alone.
Shiloh slumps back against the door and blinks those big eyes at me. “Whoa.”
“Told you so.” I press a quick kiss to her lips, but I can read the doubt clouding her face well enough to know not to press the situation now. I smooth my thumb over her skin, but my lipstick is everywhere. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“But—” She closes her eyes and exhales slowly. “Right. You’re right. Our ride will be here soon.”
I grab some paper towels and stick them beneath the faucet. Shiloh starts to reach for them, but I shake my head. “Let me.” Thought I expect her to argue, she holds perfectly still as I clean up the worst of it. Without some soap or makeup remover, I can’t fully get rid of the red staining her mouth and neck, but I’m good with that. I like seeing my mark on her, even one so temporary as this. My mouth is just as much a loss cause. No one looking at us will have any doubt about what we’ve been up to.
