Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“I think you’re needed, Dante,” Harper tells me as she nods in the direction of our son.
I turn to look and see that Milo has the waistband of Devon’s shorts between his teeth and is refusing to let go. When Devon tumbles to the grass, Milo leaps up and starts licking his face, causing our little boy to burst out into squeals of laughter.
“What’s going on out here? It sounds like war,” River says as he steps from the house into the sunshine. Behind him are Drake, and Caia. The three of them are casually dressed for the barbecue, while their kids are ready for the pool.
“Dad!” Comes the happy shout once more.
I shrug at Drake and chuckle. “Pretty much.” I head down to where Milo and Devon are rolling around in the grass. “Come on, little man.” I pick my son up and smile when he nuzzles into my neck. “Your cousins are here.”
“Can we have ice-cream now?” There’s one thing he loves, and its chocolate chip ice-cream. If he could eat that every day, for all his meals, he would.
Nodding, I shift his long, dark hair from his face, and say, “Ask your cousins if they’d like some too.”
Devon has been adamant he doesn’t want his hair cut. It’s now hanging down to his shoulders, and both his moms and I have agreed to let him keep it. We want to allow him to make his own choices. My children will never feel as if they can’t be themselves. I want them to be able to follow their hearts’ desires. Acceptance is loving without condition.
I watch Devon with Drake’s two kids. They’ve had two girls, and I know Drake and River are big softies when it comes to their daughters. Whatever their girls want they get. Even if Caia says no, the guys will give in. It’s the source of some heated debate in their house.
I can’t laugh too much, though, because as I look over at Harper who’s holding our daughter while Rayne watches over Devon, I can’t deny I’ll do anything to keep my family happy.
I’ll gladly walk into Hell, taking out anyone in my way, to keep my girls and my son and daughter safe.
“Come on, Dante,” Drake calls as he saunters over to me with a bottle of beer for each of us. “Time to relax.”
We’ve just ended the lives of a whole trafficking operation—the boss, and about twenty of his acquaintances. So until another organization demands our attention, it’s time to put our feet up, and while we take some much needed vacation, The Fallen will be handling things.
Drake and I stand shoulder to shoulder, and we stare at the family.
“You know, I always thought I was the older twin,” Drake says suddenly.
When we were growing up, I used to allow him to believe he was the oldest. I was more than willing to take the backseat to his controlling demeanor. Our father never really encouraged us to talk about birthdays, or our mother, so the truth never came up for discussion. I only found out just before our sixteenth birthday.
It wasn’t too long ago that I finally sat Drake down and told him that I’m the oldest by a few minutes, which is why our father was so adamant I would be his heir. I don’t know why I never mentioned it to my twin before, but now he knows, I keep giving him shit about being a baby, and he keeps calling me old man.
“Yeah, I don’t know why you ever thought it, though.” I roll my eyes. “I was always the one who had to look after you.” I shove against his shoulder, and he chuckles.
“You mean I always looked after you, old man,” Drake throws back before he takes a long swig of his beer.
“Did you ever think we’d be happy?” I’m turning the conversation darker now, but I need to know what he thinks.
He’s silent for a long moment before he shakes his head. “No. And I never thought I would love someone.”
“Me too.”
“Just goes to show,” Drake says. “Fate has a fucking shitty sense of humor.”
“But you’re happy now,” I murmur as I turn to him.
Drake looks at me and nods. “I am. Very happy.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“To being a Savage,” he whispers as he lifts his bottle, and raising mine, we clink the glass together.
“To being a Savage.”