Page 139 of Dark Surrender

Angel pats the top of my seat. “You look like shit.”

Looking at him over my shoulder, I flip the asshole off. “Thanks.”

Angel shrugs one of his big-ass shoulders and out pops another grin. “I’ve been keepin’ an eye on things. Everyone’s solid…” A growl suddenly rips from his throat, along with a string of Spanish expletives, as he whips around and plucks a furball up by the back of her neck and holds her out in front of him like she’s diseased.

“It bit me.” He glares at the kitten, and she gives him just as much attitude back with those glowing yellow eyes.

“Her name is Sal.” I chuckle.

“Why do you have a cat?”

“She was a stray at your parents’.”

“And you bought her here?”

“She’s for Lily.”

“You brought your daughter a demon?”

“Fuck off. We couldn’t let her die.”

Rolling his eyes, Angel whispers something under his breath before dropping Sal on my lap. She hisses at him when she lands, then takes one demonic look at me, rakes her paw down my shirt with her nails retracted, glares as if I’ve offended her, then hops gracefully over the armrest and onto the floor, where she slinks around Angel and goes about her business. That could have gone worse. Bringing her into the van for the first few nights was a nightmare, but she adjusted. There are no more late-night attacks. My feet already have too many tooth holes from her using them as toys. She’s lucky she’s cute, or I would have thrown her out into the wild, where she belongs, somewhere between Mexico and home.

Sal’s interruption forgotten, Angel fills us in on what’s been going down since we’ve been MIA. For whatever reason, hearing that Iris hasn’t gotten herself a new man eases something in my chest. It may give me a tiny bit of hope, too, that she’ll forgive me and maybe say yes to the question I’ve been dying to ask her since the moment I bought her the house.

The ring sits like lead in my front pocket. I found it on a rickety table in this little booth outside a gas station in the middle of nowhere when I rode to Kings Cursed to find her. Something about the gem spoke to me. Let me say this—it’s something I’ve never told another soul. But I never wanted to get hitched in the first place, not to Kali or Penelope. It just kinda happened. I got caught up. My dick did a whole lot of the talkin’ for other parts of me. This time is different. I suppose lucky number three is lucky for a reason. It feels important. Pops kept the ring safe when I was recovering. Now it’s ready for its owner. Hell, I’m ready for it. I’ve been dreaming of this day for months. Seeing her. Touching her. Listening to that sexy voice and just… being in her presence.

Fuck.

I miss her.

Tomorrow’s the first day of the rest of my life.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

THE DAY

Dark

Using my cane to help me stand, I stare at myself in the truck stop mirror after my shower. At least I’m not a total unkempt bum when I see Iris again. Sure, my face is fucked up, as are my arms, chest, and legs. Every part of me is different from before. Well, sorta. You get what I mean.

I run a hand down my bumpy, scarred-up abs to my bare cock.

Eleven months without an orgasm.

Damn. I don’t think I’ve gone that long before.

It hasn’t felt right to touch him, given who he belongs to. I haven’t been hard in just as long. Pain robs you of that desire.

Palming my flaccid member, I cup my balls as I stare down at him with his overgrown bush of black hair with bits of gray. “You’re gonna see her today. We’re gonna touch her. Then maybe you’ll wake the fuck up,” I hiss at him, and in return, he doesn’t budge. Not a twitch. Nothing.

Sighing, I release myself, grab the lotion from the sink, and slather it on my damp skin. Then comes the deodorant, teeth brushing, hair combing, and shaving, a.k.a. trim-the-bush thing, before I dress in a clean pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. Then I don my leather Sacred Sinner MC cut from the hook on the wall. It’s a miracle the damn thing survived. Angel’s sister fixed what she could of the seared patches and punctures. The blood was probably the hardest to get out, but I didn’t ask. Just like me, it’s seen better days, but it’s still kickin’.

On my way out, I throw my duffel bag over my shoulder to carry it to the van, where Pops sits, all freshened up.

Opening the back, I toss the bag beside Sal, who pounces on it as soon as it lands on my bedroll, then climb into the passenger seat, set my cane beside me, and knock on the console. “You ready to do this, old man?” I ask him.

Pops clasps me on the shoulder. “The better question is, are you?”