Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Donovan! It wasn’t Cyrus! He’s been nothing but good to me since I got here! Please stop!”
I thrust myself between Donovan and Cyrus, putting my hands on my brother’s chest to hold him back. He glanced down at me, then did a double take. Then his gaze locked on to the henna tattoo on my right inner forearm. If anything, the sight enraged him more. He snatched my wrist and turned my arm so he could examine it.
“That’s not a real tattoo.”
“No,” I said. “It’s henna. Stitches said it wasn’t safe for me to get the real one until after I have the baby.”
“This is a property patch, Odette. Do you know what that means?” Donovan was angry as hell, that was obvious. He tried to calm himself when talking to me, but it was easy to see he was losing what little patience he had left.
“Yes. I know.”
“And you’re good with being Cyrus’s woman? His old lady?”
“Yes, Donovan. I am.”
Donovan turned his gaze on Cyrus. “I don’t like this, Odette. I think you should come back with me to Palm Springs and let me take care of you. We’ll find a man in Bane to be your protector. Someone I trust.”
Cyrus stepped closer to me and gently pulled me away from my brother and urged me to the side. “She’s mine, Blade. I think she has been since the night I carried her to you after that prospect snuck her in the Bane compound. I just didn’t realize it.”
“What if I tell you I forbid this? You going to go against me and marry my sister anyway? What if I told you you’re not nearly good enough for her?”
Cyrus looked confused. He glanced at me before speaking slowly, like he was trying to choose his words carefully. “You’re OK with me banging your baby sister without making her my wife?”
I groaned at the same time Blade struck out again. This time, he launched himself at Cyrus. The two men tussled on the floor, each struggling to get the upper hand. Cyrus gave as good as he got but didn’t seem out for blood. Donovan, on the other hand, was doing everything he could to hurt Cyrus. I had no doubt that, had Cyrus been less of a fighter, Donovan would have seriously hurt him. But, honestly, what did Cyrus expect when he phrased that question the way he had? What the hell was he thinking? He was asking for the beating he was currently getting.
“You fucking bastard! I’m gonna kill you, you sumbitch!”
“I told you,” Cyrus grunted. “She’s mine.” Another grunt. “What did you think I meant?”
“She’s gonna be your old lady, Cyrus. You’re gonna be faithful.” Punch. Grunt. “You’re gonna take care of her.” More grunting. “And you’re Goddamned well gonna marry her and give her, as well as this baby, your name! You don’t, you’ll answer to me, Goddamnit!” Donvan had his arm over Cyrus’s throat, bearing down with all his weight. Why Cyrus wasn’t fighting back was anyone’s guess. Looking at him while my brother was trying to beat the shit out of him, there was no sign Cyrus thought he was in a fight for his life. Sure, he looked like he was exerting himself, but there was no fear or concern about him whatsoever.
“So, you’re saying,” Cyrus gasped out, “I have your permission,” another gasp, “to marry your sister?”
“No! I’m sayin’ you better fuckin’ marry her if you know what’s fuckin’ good for you!”
The second the words were out of Donovan’s mouth, he froze, a look of horror on his face. It took me a second, but I realized what Cyrus had just done. He’d played my brother perfectly. The superior grin on Cyrus’s face said it had all gone according to plan.
Donovan collapsed back on his ass on the floor, then started chuckling. “You son of a fuckin’ bitch. Fuck.”
“Makin’ new friends, Cyrus?” Wylde popped his head out of his office, a wide grin on his face. “This is just one of many reasons I’m glad I brought you to that bar the other week.” He waved his hand in Donovan’s general direction. “You need friends in your life, man. I made it my mission to see to it you had all kinds of friends.”
“You’re one step away from getting your Fortnite account deleted, Wylde,” Sting threatened.
Wylde’s shit-eating grin faded to one of utter sadness. Like he was a kid with a new toy a mean adult had decided he couldn’t have. Too bad he spoiled the effect by winking at me.
“Fixin’ to put that eye out, Wylde.” Cyrus’s threat was casual. He might have been talking about the weather while he sat in the floor on his ass. He wiggled his jaw from side to side where my brother had connected more than once.