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I doubted she'd be able to hear me, the darkness already consuming her, drawing her into the realms of sleep and leaving me to do the dirty work, but I didn't mind. It would take me some time to fall asleep now, which gave me the opportunity to clean up.
I got up and drew a bath, knowing Willow would need it with her hidden rage for Mondays. I knew why she truly despised the first day of the week.
It was the day Roberto would return from his weekend adventures, pissed over some stupid shit and ready to torture us until our skin was raw with wounds.
You’d think that after all we'd endured we would have plotted to kill the man who was soon to become the richest man in the world if he continued his financial endeavors. Having a good amount of money was always a blessing but having as much as he did felt like nothing but a curse for him and all those who were forced to remain around him.
Especially Willow.
That bastard was a selfish prick and yet he was the only wolf shifter to ever have such a big empire of wolves who willingly followed him. It could have been because you were given protection by his surname alone. He had the connections to run all those businesses before the underground shit he participated in to make those dollar bills that weren't registered on the payroll.
Some called him the Mafia King at night, while others acknowledged just how powerful of a Wolf Alpha he was. He had to be, seeing as our kind never hesitated to challenge anyone if we had enough serotonin in our blood to make us do the stupidest of things, like challenge our Alpha.
It was a good thing I'd stuck with the Palo Santo pack, though it was one of the three options given to me by the sick bastard himself. He knew how strong my feelings were for his daughter that he probably begged would remain a boy so he'd carry some sort of pride for her.
He knew if he pushed me to arm’s length, I wouldn't stalk her at every hour of the day to ensure he didn't dare hurt her.
We survived those trying times. Withstood the lashes of silver whips against our flesh. How he couldn't acknowledge how close to a wolf shifter Willow was was beyond me. She carried adverse effects from the same metal as us and yet he didn't believe she was a late bloomer.
Fucker.
I stared down at Willow's body, watching her sleep under the moonlight while my eyes scanned the luscious lines of her curves. She turned me on with ease, my cock twitching already while I took in the scars she didn't mind showing.
She wasn't a coward like me, who covered them with tattoos. She wore them with pride. The scars obtained from the abuse of her Wolf Alpha, Mafia King father who thought he'd break her down.
Cripple her like the woman who gave birth to her.
I wondered if the woman was still alive. We hadn't seen her since we were moved to different cell blocks during the long weeks of imprisonment, and after that, we never returned to that place again.
Would she still be alive? Did Willow care anymore?
The thought always intrigued me, but also reminded me that we were warriors and any pain we dealt with now was nothing in comparison to then. Our skin had hardened, like our hearts. We may be mentally unstable from time to time, but there was shit for that.
Moving back to the big bathtub that was almost full, I noticed one of those bath bombs Willow liked. She always acted like she didn't like the common feminine products like other women did.
The makeup, skincare products, obsession with candles, and her inability to not order a Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks during the fall made me roll my eyes but gave me an idea all at the same time.
I knew she enjoyed all those things secretly. They reminded her that she was a woman playing along in this corrupted male world. She wouldn't lose herself to her daily masculinity. She'd found a balance that complimented her, and I wouldn't admit it to her face, but she seemed the most content in all the years I'd known her.
After putting in a few drops of rejuvenating oil that Aurelia made, I finally retrieved my sleeping beauty, scooping her up and heading to the bathroom. I admired the way she seemed to fit in my bulky arms, her slim, short frame somehow surviving me.
Many were always baffled by our ability to endure one another's nonsense. The Pack House knew we never got along from day one, but we'd come to tolerate one another on the surface level.
It was when we were enclosed in the safety of our homes that we let ourselves loose, with the consideration of Willow’s locker room that I loved to invite myself into.
"If you're going to lower her into that bath by herself, she'll drown."
My lips quirked upward as the low growl that followed echoed through my head.
Simply state that you don't want to let her go, selfish fucker.
"I'll get your ass kicked the next time we're in the ring."
As if you'd dare let use lose and face such humiliation. We worked too hard to maintain our streak. Threaten me with something else.
"I'll piss on that wilting flower so she avoids you for two weeks."
Now you're just being cruel.
