The energy of the house is full of nerves as we wait for Arsenal, Nick, and Burner to arrive. Finding out what the boundaries are for Marie’s bond sickness helped make the decision to stay in the house instead of going upstairs to the roof for this meeting, as it’s easier for Lore to remain out of sight.
Wilder is stress cooking while Marie takes a shower to wake up. Lore also insisted she shower after work, because he said she smelled like the hospital. I wouldn’t ever tell her this, but she did kind of smell like antiseptic.
“Take a breath,” Lore says, dropping onto the couch beside me. “At the end of the day, no one wants me permanently dead.”
“Some do,” I grumble. I feel as if I have a black cloud over my head. I can’t seem to shake the dread building inside of me.
“I mean, yes but I killed those people,” Lore says smugly. “I haven’t found anyone else who wants me dead, and Storm has the club listening for chatter for anyone celebrating my death.”
“So you really think your club is going to take it well when you come back and say, ‘just kidding’?” I snort.
“No, but I think the clues that I’m alive are out there for those who know me,” he says. “Storm is hearing dark web chatter about a man named ‘Ghost’ who is killing Knotted Anarchy’s enemies. Apparently, I left quite the calling card.”
“Any thoughts about taking up a road name?” I suggest.
Lore never took one, and no one ever thought twice about it. Devon has one that he uses on the road, but his club doesn’t bother to use it, and neither does Lore’s. We’re so intertwined in some ways, there’s no real reason to call Devon by other than his name.
Granted, I called him Prez, which is its own name as the position commands respect.
“That’s a possibility,” Lore murmurs. “It always felt wrong to have one, as if I didn’t earn one.”
“Nah, I think that the right one didn’t appear until now.”
“I came over to make you feel better, and I think that backfired,” he says. “I know Wilder doesn’t want to be President, but he’s doing really well.”
“No I’m not!” Wilder yells from the kitchen. “If you want to be the ghostly Prez, I’m down for that. I just don’t want to be in charge.”
Lore’s lips twitch as he rolls his eyes.
“No fucking privacy,” he chuckles. “Are you glad you joined our pack, or are you still getting your footing?”
“It’s weird in a way to be here,” I admit. “I feel as if the days are a blur. Marie is my soul match, but all I can catch are stolen moments here and there. I know things happen in their own time, even with Fate sticking her nose in things…”
“Everyone in this house is still figuring their shit out,” Lore says. “Wilder and Storm aren’t bonded to Marie either, and there are a lot of reasons for that. Our relationship with Marie was just beginning when I got shot, so now we’re all finding our way. She’s not working anymore. Why don’t we take a ride out to one of the national parks nearby she wants to go see? We can all hang out with her with less stress from bond sickness.”
“You don’t know how far you can be from each other outside?” I ask.
“No, but a few feet shouldn’t be an issue,” Lore says. “The bond strengthens each day, and I can feel when it’s being stretched too tightly. As soon as I walked outside I felt it tighten like a guitar string. The sickness affected me this time, and I had the breath kicked out of my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, much less walk when Dr. Royal found me. The phone was in my hand, but I couldn’t speak to anyone. I never got a chance to make the call. I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”
“So you’d know if we were riding and you got too far from her, or if she walked away to see something…” I hedge.
“Yes,” he reassures me. “I think I’d be able to tell now that I know what it feels like.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
The doorbell rings, and Lore makes a face.
“That’s about how I feel about this,” I mutter.
Lore jumps up and walks quickly out of the room to get out of sight, and I hear Storm opening the door.
“Where’s the Little Queen?” Arsenal asks loudly, pushing his way into the house.
“For fuck’s sakes. Hello to you too,” Storm laughs, letting the guys in as I walk over.
They all take their boots off at the front door, and I hum in appreciation that they’re not tracking dirt through the house.
“Hi!” Marie says, walking down the stairs. She’s wearing an oversized burnt orange sweatshirt and leggings, but my jaw drops at how gorgeous she looks.
