upward as his eyes narrow and he slips his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
He’s not wearing a fucking shirt, his tattoos on display, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he keeps glaring at me like I fucking ate all of Ella’s cookies or some shit.
“The fuck are you doing?” he growls, and O awkwardly stands, stepping back against the bed, wrapping her arms around her chest and shifting from foot to foot. I can feel her staring at me, but I don’t look at her.
Mav doesn’t either.
“What’s it look like?” I ask him, holding up my hands and shrugging. Him and Ella have been by every morning since Lilith has been gone, Mav dragging me into the shower, Ella setting food on the table.
Sometimes she’d leave, sometimes she’d stay.
I wanted to hate them for it. For thinking I can’t take care of myself without her. For thinking I’m…fucking insane.
But I’m not sure those things aren’t true.
“Looks like you were about to get your dick sucked by someone that’s not your goddamn wife.”
A small gasp escape Ophelia’s lips and she shifts closer to me, still standing, but her thigh brushes against mine. “It wasn’t like—”
“I don’t think I’m fucking talking to you,” Mav snarls, but he doesn’t even look at her.
Him and O have never been friends, but he knows she’s my friend. And he should know I could really fucking use a friend right now.
I gesture toward my crotch. “My dick look like it’s out to you?”
He glances down, his lean jaw clenched, the muscles of his core flexing as he takes a step into my room. “Looks like you’re fucking ready to go.”
I drop my hand and roll my eyes. “Maybe get Ella in here. She’d know all about—”
He crosses the room so fast, his hand going to my throat as he shoves me backward on my bed, I don’t even have time to fucking take a breath. He climbs on top of me, caging me in beneath him as my hands go to his forearm, pushing him off.
But he’s got one hand planted beside my head, and all his weight is leaning against the one wrapped tight around my throat as he glares down at me, those blue eyes full of rage.
“Don’t fucking go there. Stop acting like a piece of shit.”
Ophelia calls his name—“Mayhem,”—but he ignores her, circles his fingers tighter around my throat.
“Maybe you forgot someone is stalking your fucking wife, but I haven’t. And you might not give a fuck about her anymore, but she’s my sister, and she’s carrying my niece or nephew,” he leans down close, his mouth over mine, his fingers closing tighter, “and I fucking do,” he snarls, the scent of toothpaste hitting my nose.
I wonder what my own breath smells like.
I can still taste iron in my mouth.
Probably not great, but right now I’m barely fucking breathing so I guess it doesn’t matter.
“Get the fuck up. Get a fucking shower, get dressed, and meet me downstairs.” He glares at me for a long moment, then shoves me away, releases his grip on my throat and gets off the bed, ignoring Ophelia completely. Instead, he turns away, his huge Unsaints tattoo on his back facing me, smoke through one eye, a U through the other.
I sit up slowly, my hand going to my throat as I massage it, flexing my jaw, my blood pounding in my temple.
Just as he walks through the doorway, barely clearing it, he glances over his shoulder at me.
“If you’d get your goddamn head out of your fucking ass, you’d know that you’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”
I narrow my eyes, swallowing hard. I’m not fit to drive. I’m not going to drive, unless it’s to my baby girl, and I’m pretty fucking sure she doesn’t want me around. If it was up to me I’d go anyway, but the 6 have other plans. They don’t want to start a war, so apparently, I can’t go burn down his house and drag Sid out by her hair.
Mav’s voice breaks through those thoughts. “Julie called. Someone’s been fucking around her property.”
I freeze, drop my hand as my throat tightens. I haven’t been to Julie’s in a long, long time. Not since Sid and I got married. I wanted to give her space, to let her adjust to the idea that I was financially supporting a kid that wasn’t fucking mine from a girl I fucked that meant nothing to me.