by Katee Robert
I can see where she’s going with this, but there’s no point in trying to detour. “Seven years, give or take.”
Monroe narrows her eyes. “Four years between leaving your parents and finding the Paines.”
The sensation of choking gets stronger. I swallow hard. Finding the Paine brothers was sheer luck on my part, and them taking me in was even more luck. That situation could have gone so much worse for me.
They had more than their fair share of trauma, too. Even without asking too many questions, I felt a kinship with Broderick and his brothers and the people they’d gathered around them. I…fit. In a way that I had never experienced before in my life.
I didn’t want to come back to this city, but these people are the family I chose. I figured it wouldn’t be the same, that I could navigate my way through whatever challenges that arose from the ghosts of my past.
I never bargained on Broderick being paired with the Amazon heir. Or on my being assigned as her permanent guard. Or for her to take such a pointed interest in me.
In short, I never bargained on Monroe.
“It was closer to five before I found them.” She opens her mouth to continue questioning me, but I cut in before she gets the words out. “I survived. End of story.” I wouldn’t talk about what I had to do to survive. I had little life experience when I landed in Chicago. I didn’t know how to deal with people, didn’t know how to control the rage that bubbled up in me after too many years kept locked down. After I smashed a glass over the head of a customer who grabbed my ass at the restaurant I where I worked, I realized customer service wasn’t going to get me anything but arrested.
“Yes. You did.”
“Violence is easy.” My voice is barely above a whisper. I want to stop talking, to cut this off before I bare my still-beating heart for this woman, but the only other person I’ve talked to about this is Broderick. And even then, I filtered so much, even more than I’m doing now. If he pitied me, I might just die. I exhale slowly. “It came naturally to me—it still does.” I guess I really am an Amazon down to my core. The thought might make me laugh if I could work up the energy for it. “I ended up as an enforcer for one of the local groups. They taught me everything I needed to know.”
“And the Paines?”
At that, I smile a little. “I tried to rob Broderick. He kicked my ass a little and then hauled me back to their sad excuse for a base. Within a couple days, I was taking orders from Abel. I haven’t looked back since.”
“Quick turnaround.”
I look at her. “You’ve been the heir to the Amazon throne your whole life. You don’t know what it’s like out there. The Paine brothers actually care about their people. They ask a lot of us, yes, but they value our lives and our safety. That kind of thing isn’t common.”
“I suppose not.” She combs her fingers through her hair, expression still contemplative. “Where did you say you were from, again?”
That surprises a laugh out of me. Does she really think she can trick me into telling her? Absolutely not. “You didn’t seriously mean it when you said you wanted to kill my parents.”
“When did they start burning you?”
Frustration bubbles up inside me, bringing the truth with it. “I was six. I had been playing with one of the neighborhood boys. Those silly kid games. He kissed me.”
She narrows her eyes. “Normal childhood stuff.”
“My parents didn’t think so.” I refuse to revisit that memory; their hateful words, my screams and sobbing.
Monroe nods slowly. “Twelve years is a long time, love. Someone has to balance the scales.”
“Stop calling me love.”
“Do you really want me to stop?” she fires back.
I’m speechless for a moment. Of course, I want her to stop. It’s… Damn it. “No.”
“Again, stop trying to change the subject. I would like the town name.”
I stare. “You’re serious.”
“I already told you I don’t bluff.”
She had. I just… “But I’m not one of your people.” Not anymore. Not ever as far as she knows. “You don’t have to play avenging Valkyrie for me.”
“You’re mixing up your mythologies.” She examines her nails. She’s painted them a matte beige color that looks professional and sleek. Monroe seems to change her nails a lot. That surprised me the first week, but now I suspect that doing so calms her and gives her some control when she’s feeling out of sorts.
She’s been feeling out of sorts a lot lately.
Or maybe I’m just projecting and the reason she changes her nails a lot is because she is a fickle woman who likes pretty things.
“Shiloh.”
“But why?”
She focuses entirely on me. After a pause where I find myself holding my breath, she crawls across the bed to kneel at my side and take my hand. “Because all children deserve to be protected. I can’t go back and save the child you were, but I can rain down hellfire and damnation on those responsible.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Though, truly, there’s no way at least some people in that town didn’t know. They might have lied to themselves about the warning signs or looked away because it’s easier than fighting on behalf of someone being victimized, but they at least suspected.”
She’s right, of course. Someone did know. Her mother. Oh, I can’t be sure Aisling was aware of the extent of the abuse, but when she caught sight of me that single time, I was a borderline malnourished child. Obviously something was wrong, and she turned away instead of enacting that famous Amazonian justice.
What would Monroe think if she knew that?
It might drive a wedge between her and her mother. Or she might call me a liar and that would be the end of us, right here and now.
“Maybe I should burn the whole fucking town down,” she muses. “That would certainly send a message.”
I don’t mean to take her face in my hands. I really don’t. But my body moves without permission, and her skin is so fucking soft, completely at odds with the fierce violence in her voice. “Monroe,” I say, soft and slow. “You cannot burn down a town for me.” You cannot start a conflict with your own mother for me.
“I most certainly can.” She refocuses on me. “Whether or not I do it is still up for debate. My mother wouldn’t like it, but she wouldn’t stand in my way.”
Saying her mother wouldn’t like it is a giant understatement. Monroe takes my breath away. Rationally, I know she’s the enemy. No matter what I yelled at Broderick earlier, I recognize that Monroe would feed us all to literal wolves if it meant keeping her people safe. Her people that I don’t number among, haven’t for well over ten years. That is admirable from where I’m sitting, but since we’re on opposite sides of the line, it means she’s a threat.
But not even Broderick reacted this strongly to my story.
I don’t want my parents dead…I don’t think. I won’t lie and say that revenge fantasies didn’t get me through my teens and early twenties. But things changed when I joined the Paine brothers. For the first time in my life, I was able to focus on the future instead of the past.
Still…
It’s a heady thing to have all of Monroe’s not-insignificant fury and violence focused on people who hurt me. Focused on them because they hurt me. It’s enough to make me wonder what would have happened if she was the queen who noticed the child being harmed by someone in her inner circle. Maybe it’s naïve to think she would have placed that child’s safety above the petty politics that are demanded of the one who holds the throne.
Maybe… But I can’t shake the feeling that she would have reigned down the same fire and brimstone that she’s threatening to right now.
I don’t have a good response for her. I don’t even know what I want. “I won’t tell you.”
“That’s okay.” I barely have a chance to relax when she says, “I’ll ask Broderick instead.”
That’s a dead end. Broderick doesn’t know where I’m from
, either. I never told him, and he respected me enough not to ask. Funny how he understood how to respect boundaries for so long, only to lose that skill the second we arrived back in Sabine Valley. I sigh. “You are something else.”
“You’re not the first one to say it. Though most of the time when people do, it sounds less like a compliment.”
I kiss her. Another mistake, but not one I’ll take back. I can count on one hand how many people I’ve told that story to, and while everyone was sympathetic to my experiences, the sheer ferocity of Monroe’s leaves me breathless.
What would it be like to be loved by this woman?
Never boring, that’s for sure.
She goes still for one long moment, and then she’s kissing me back with all the energy she put into plotting my parents’ demise. Like she has a thousand things to tell me that she knows I don’t want to hear, so she’ll convey them with her tongue and lips and teeth instead.
I prefer it this way.
There’s no time to worry about this being a mistake or what happens next. I can’t even blame tequila or anger. There’s just me and Monroe and this kiss.
She laughs against my mouth and pulls away a little bit. “I should offer to kill people on your behalf more often if this is the response I get.”
“Monroe?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.” I dig my hands into her hair and kiss her again, toppling her back to the bed. She goes willingly. We land in a tangle of limbs, and I’ve never regretted putting on clothing so much. I want to be skin to skin. There’s nothing to hide any longer. She’s seen the scars, she’s heard the story, and she still desires me. I don’t have to worry about making sure the lights are off before we go farther because there’s nothing to hide.
The realization leaves me giddy and a bit drunk off the knowledge.
I sit back on my heels between her spread thighs and look at her. She’s rumpled, and her oversized shirt is bunched up around her waist, leaving her lacy white panties on display. They’re sexy, but I suspect Monroe could be wearing a paper bag and covered in a weeks’ worth of dirt and still be sexy. It’s just her.
I slide my hands up her toned thighs and hook the sides of her panties. “I’m taking these off.”
“Please do.”
The urge to rush nearly overwhelms me, but I force myself to go slow, tugging the fabric down an inch at a time, easing it over her hips. She has to move her legs for me to get them down farther, and she does without hesitation, pressing them together. I take advantage, pushing her legs up toward her chest. I leave her panties midway up her thighs, my attention on her bared pussy. She’s perfect here, too. Of course she is. She’s Monroe.
“Shiloh.” She sounds out of breath. “Let me take them off.”
“In a moment.” I wrap my fist around the fabric, forcing her legs tighter together and using the hold to press them up until she’s basically bent in half. Then I drag a single finger down her slit. She’s soaked, but then I knew she would be. She just came while I was in the shower, after all.
I ease a single finger into her and then two, enjoying the way her breath hisses out and she clamps around me. For the first time since we met, she’s letting me take the lead. It’s not submission, not really; more that she’s letting me set the pace. I appreciate it. It’s been a long time for me, and never like this. Never with all the lights on.
I intend to enjoy every moment of it.
Monroe lets out a breathless laugh. “Gods, you really are a gift, love. You little sadist.”
“Hush, I’m enjoying myself.” I spread her pussy a little and rub her clit with my thumb. “I’m going to taste you now.”
She moans a little. “Do it.”
I’m in the process of leaning down to do just that when the door slams open…and Broderick stalks into the room.
Chapter 11
Broderick
Shock steals my breath. Desire follows on its heels, nearly taking me off my feet. I stagger back against the door I just barged through, completely speechless. I expected to find Monroe here, to have another go-round with her before I inform her about the meeting I agreed to with her family.
I didn’t expect to find Shiloh kneeling on the bed, two fingers in Monroe’s pussy. There’s no way to misinterpret this scene. She’s not holding Shiloh down. She’s bent in fucking half and simply taking what Shiloh gives. “Well, fuck.”
Shiloh narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t do anything I expect. She doesn’t scramble to explain herself or shove away from Monroe. She just pumps slowly into Monroe’s pussy. “You should really learn to knock.”
I’ve fucked this up rather spectacularly. There’s no other conclusion to come to. That I’m standing here, watching the woman I love with the woman I both hate and desire… “What’s going on here?”
Monroe gives a breathless laugh that turns into a little moan when Shiloh does something with her fingers. “I’d think that’s readily apparent.”
“Broderick.” Shiloh’s hazel eyes are merciless. “Turn around. Walk out the door. Come back in the morning.”
“The morning?” Monroe shivers. “Someone’s ambitious.”
“Hush.” Shiloh pins me with a look. “Unless you have something vital to share that needs to be discussed right this moment, it can wait until morning.”
“Okay,” I finally manage. I move slowly, my body obeying even as my mind rebels. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. None of this is how it’s supposed to be. I open the door and step back into the hall. The second it closes behind me, the strength goes out of my body, and I slump back against it.
I can…hear them.
Monroe’s throaty laugh. Shiloh’s low murmur.
And then Monroe starts moaning.
I wish I could say she’s just putting on a show for me, but she made that exact same sound when I was inside her. It’s not fake. It’s not for my benefit. It’s because Shiloh is doing something to her that is driving her out of her mind.
I should walk away and come back in the morning. Standing here and listening to them is an exquisite form of torture. Jealousy sinks its barbs into me and digs deep. That Monroe has caught Shiloh’s interest boggles my mind. That Shiloh seems to soften some of Monroe’s edges… I don’t know what to think about that, either. It’s as if my brain simply cannot compute it. Both women have clear roles in my life, for better or worse, and they’re acting against those expectations.
“Broderick?”
I open my eyes to find my older brother standing there. Being back in Sabine Valley agrees with Abel. He’s lost a little of the tightness in his shoulders that I thought a permanent fixture. Sure enough, I can see Eli over his shoulder. The man is typing away at something on his phone, his handsome face lit with the screen, but his proximity has my brother softening even if his attention is obviously on something else. There’s no other explanation for it.
Abel’s…happy.
I should be happy for him. He deserves happiness after everything he’s sacrificed to keep us alive and together. If it were just Harlow, it wouldn’t be a problem. She’s fierce, and she obviously cares a great deal about this faction and the people in it. I suspect she’s just as ruthless as Abel, but she still provides a bit of a counterweight to some of his ideas and plans.
But it’s not just Harlow.
He’s not part of a contented couple. He’s in a throuple, and the third person is Eli fucking Walsh. Even standing in the same space as Eli right now has me remembering how smoke coated my throat as we ran for our lives. I realize Eli wasn’t directly responsible, but damn if I can let it go. No matter what else is true, it’s been almost too easy to slip right back into our roles in the Raider faction.
As if nothing has changed, when the truth is that everything has changed.
Look at Abel, hardened to someone I barely recognize some days. And Ezekiel, who’s more monster than the sweet brother I once knew. Even Gabriel and Donovan have changed, and they’re the most easy
-going of the seven of us.
I’ve changed too.
I stare at my brother, not sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say. He knows it, too. Abel is many things, but he’s not a fool. His dark gaze flicks to the door at my back as a particularly loud moan sounds. “Monroe and…Shiloh?”
“Yes.”
He raises his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. “Interesting. Not surprising, but interesting.”
That overrides my desire to be literally anywhere else. “What are you talking about? Shiloh’s a good girl. It’s surprising as fuck.”
Abel snorts. “You’ve always had tunnel vision when it comes to that woman. She’s not an innocent, and Monroe might be a gigantic pain in the ass, but she’s magnetic.”
“Monroe’s also happy to stick it to you however she can.” Eli doesn’t look up from his phone. “No wonder she’s set her eyes on Shiloh.”
“No one fucking asked you.”
Abel gives me a long look as if weighing the venom in my voice. I know I should tone it down, should just let shit go, but I don’t know how to. I don’t even know where to begin. “He’s right.”
“I’m aware of that,” I grit out.
“Then stop fucking around and handle your business.” He glances down the hall and then back at me. “Everyone knows you’re sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms because you’re scared of your Bride.”
“I’m not—”
“It makes us look weak.”
I welcome the surge of anger and push off the door. “Who the fuck are we looking weak to, Abel? It’s no one’s business where I sleep.”
“Wrong.” He slides his hands into his pockets, every inch the arrogant prick. “All of our brothers are doing their duty—except you. You don’t think Monroe’s running to tell her mother how weak the Paine brothers are when the man she’s handfasted to avoids her? When he can’t fucking handle her?” Abel shakes his head slowly. “You know better.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right. “Mine your own goddamned business.”
“This is my business. I didn’t fight and win so you could get cold feet now. Handle your shit, Broderick. Or I’ll do it for you.”
