“Rude,” I grumble. “I’ll come. However, I’m not traveling anywhere right this second.”
“We’re not leaving till the morning,” Devon says. “It’s too fucking wet, and it’s been a day.”
“Okay. I want to go home and take a bubble bath. I’m frozen.”
“By all means, Prin…fuck. Marie,” he curses.
“It’s nice to know I’ve crawled so far up your ass that I’m now a curse word,” I say, smirking as he flicks me off.
“That’s enough of that,” Storm says, walking away. “Henry!”
The older man turns as he approaches his car, watching as Storm heads in his direction. A couple of minutes later, I’m wrapped in a blanket, with the heater blowing in Henry’s truck, while he drives me home.
“I’m not part of this life either, but I’m a pretty good source of information,” Henry says gently as I sigh heavily for the third time in succession.
“I’m a fish out of water here. I keep getting the feeling that I’m one step away from really messing up.” I explain.
“Depending on the situation, I suppose that’s possible,” Henry admits. “All you can do is learn what you can, and ask questions when you don’t understand something.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing,” I admit. “Lore and Devon act so differently. I’d never believe they’re brothers if I wasn’t told that.”
“I heard a few things while sitting in the church today. Everyone is a gossip if given the opportunity, and bikers are not the exception. Lore and Devon are half brothers. Their mothers aren’t in the picture, and are simply people their father got knocked up. Lore changed his last name when his dad died, created a new chapter, and pulled up stakes,” Henry says. “Sometimes, your story simply needs to be rewritten until you’re happy with it. Color outside of the lines, Marie. Force the worldto accept it. Who the fuck cares, as long as you’re not hurting anyone?”
His words remain with me for longer than I care to admit, but they are exactly what I need.
Chapter Six
Storm
“Why is there someone at the door?” I whine, dropping my head back on the couch cushion. “I want to go back in time and not tell anyone where we live.”
It’s been hours since the funeral, and while Wilder and I opted for a quick shower to rinse off the day, Marie just got out of the tub forty minutes ago and is napping in our bed. She has her nest, but a part of me is very happy that she’s surrounded by our scents.
Marie is sleeping in one of Lore’s sweatshirts, and while I noticed that Ransom’s heavy jacket also is near her, I chose to bite my tongue. I have this very loud voice in my head telling me that he may be her soul match, which can be even worse than being away from your scent match.
The poor omega can’t get a fucking break.
“Are you going to pout or answer the door?” Wilder groans.
We’re both completely wrecked. Fuck.
Forcing myself to my feet before I have to shoot whoever is at the door for waking up my girl, I pad in bare feet acrossthe house. I’m wearing sweatpants and absolutely nothing else, because the thought of real clothes is unacceptable.
My fingers pull open a cabinet door in the living room to grab a gun as I walk past it, and a second later I’m greeting whoever is at the front door. I refuse to be lax in my security, though I’m too lazy to check my phone to see who is on the other side of the door.
I’m an oxymoron, what can I say?
“It’s you,” I sigh, staring dispassionately at Ransom. “What do you want?”
“You know why I’m here,” he says. “And before you decide to be a smart ass, it’s not for my fucking jacket. Jesus, I couldn’t move fast enough to pull it from my saddlebag when I saw her. I’m not trying to take her from you, I just can’t ignore this.”
“She says you’re not scent matches,” I grunt. “My vote is that you’re soul matches. She’s sleeping upstairs.”
“All I know is that it feels awful the longer I’m away,” he admits.
Taking pity on the poor bastard, I step back. “Shoes go on the mat.”
“Done,” Ransom says, stomping his feet outside before pulling off his boots as he steps inside to place them in their correct placement. “Is Prez going to shoot me for not asking him to his face to transfer into his chapter?”
