Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Or blood.
His hand settles on mine.
“Don’t fucking say such things.”
I shrug. “No point running from reality.” Even though it’s what we’ve been doing since the inception of our relationship. Hiding it from our clubs, pretending to ourselves that it’s just fucking, when deep down each of us knew the bond kept deepening like we were digging our own graves.
“I don’t want to live my life waiting for death. It’s too fucking short for that.”
I grab the bead necklace and wink at him. “Now that we have these, nothing’s gonna happen to us anyway.”
Tension drips out of him as he chuckles, rubbing his face with one hand. “Uh-huh, let’s just go with that,” he says and then leans forward, looking through the windshield. The men riding bikes ahead make a series of hand gestures, and he settles back in the seat. “We’re stopping at the gas station.”
I know the drill and follow the motorcycles ahead of us without issue. The station is a small place half-way to my house from Vulture Hollow. Quite picturesque even, among the forest, by a quiet road. It has a little shop with camping equipment and food, which is convenient because I was thinking about getting a snack. I wouldn’t use my credit card, but I carry enough cash for basics, and no one took my wallet when I played dead.
Road gives my hand a firm squeeze, and I look up, meeting his brown gaze. Usually, I barely even remember he has scars, and a mangled tattoo around his eye, but I notice them now and feel an ache deep in my chest when I remember I was the one to cause them.
“We can come back for more stuff if it won’t all fit in the van today, hm? Think what you need most,” he says and pulls back, exiting the car.
He goes to talk to Prophet, who is putting gas in his tank, and I drift off to the shop with the eyes of a dozen men following my every move. Not only am I now a curiosity because of being Road’s fiancé, but they must also still view me as a threat. A wild card, a ticking time bomb that could destroy them from within like the one I set in their warehouse last year.
In the shop, I’m struck by the intense need to get something for Road. I know he’d get me a pebble from the bottom of a lake if I asked, but I still feel strange about not having much to offer. If we’re lucky, the Butchers may have been unable to open or take away the safe in my house, so I might recover some cash. I didn’t tell Road, because I didn’t want him to get his hopes up.
For now, a selection of snacks is what I can get him, and since he has a weakness for meat, I drift toward the jerky sticks I’m seeing close by. One of the Vultures, Martin, is picking something out of the fridge too, his broad nose twitching as he compares two kinds of cheese, searching for something on the labels. I shouldn’t be so spooked about interacting with guys who from now on will be my people, but I find myself relieved that he’s busy and might ignore me if I grab what I need and go.
No such fucking luck.
“You sure you’re in the right section?” Martin asks before picking at a bit of skin peeling on his pink face. Did this guy ever hear of sunscreen? Guess he’s following my uncle’s motto of “Creams are for pussies”. Real men fight off skin cancer with testosterone. Probably.
“Yep.” I grab the meaty snack, and walk off to the wall of sweets, but Martin follows me.
“These. You’ll like these,” he points to a packet of pink strawberry twist marshmallows boasting to now have 50% more popping candy coating. With the edible glitter on them, they look like unicorn feed.
I sigh, not turning around. “And why would that be?”
“I thought guys like you liked pink. And they last a long time if you suck on them.”
Okay. So this is what we’re doing. I squeeze the packet of jerky sticks to avoid punching him. I’m outnumbered, they’re doing me a favor, I know I need to take a bit of shit in this hazing process. On the other hand, I can’t let anyone think they can treat me like a punching bag.
I turn to him and raise my eyebrows. “So you’re an expert on sucking now?”
He grins, showing off an even smile that seems too white in his rosy face. “I could be a judge at the porn Olympics.”
“With all this knowledge, you might as well take part,” I say in full seriousness. “How’s your gag reflex?”
His smile drops, as if I’ve pulled on the skin off his cheeks, and darkness clouds his eyes like the heavy smoke that might choke me if unleashed. He shoves me back, face twisting when he squares his shoulders, as if I’ve just stripped him of all dignity. “Do you want to choke on a gun? Is that it?”