Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
“My secret,” I tell him and rest my chin on his shoulder, melting into him. Only when he’s this close can I stop worrying about him all the fucking time. “We have to later return him to his brothers and sisters, but I thought you’d like a guest at breakfast.”
“That’s so thoughtful. You remembered I like chickens,” Clyde says and turns to kiss me on the cheek. As if I could ever forget anything he told me, when I’m so hyper aware of everything about him.
Now that he’s here, it does feel like we have a future, and that we’re a real couple.
“No one gave you shit?” he asks, pulling the tray closer, but he keeps glancing at the chick trying to find its way out of the basket.
I wonder if I should keep the truth from him, but I kiss him back and sigh. “They’ll come around. It’s all new, but I can take care of myself. Now eat, we’ll be going to your place soon.”
“Right. I was thinking though,” he says, already loading a fried egg onto his toast, “Maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t know if it’s safe. There’s a chance some Butchers might be there—”
I stop him, because I’m there to carry this burden with him. “We won’t be going alone. The guys agreed to come. Strength in numbers.”
Clyde puts down the toast and picks up a pancake instead. “It’s weird to eat the egg when he’s looking at me,” he says, pointing to the chick. “I wasn’t expecting their help, but it’s honorable of them that they have your back like that. Makes me think that maybe there is a future here.”
I grasp on that thread and bite the pastry he holds to my lips. “They’re great guys once you get to know them. They’ll warm up to you. I know they will,” I say as the buttery croissant melts on my tongue.
I’m so damn desperate to give him all the peace he needs, and maybe soon enough he will be as much part of Vulture Hollow as I am.
Our breakfast is peaceful, we avoid talking about the Butchers, about Bracer, about all the deaths and schemes and danger yet to come. It gives me a taste of what our life could be like in the safety of this cocoon with Clyde.
We’re full, happy, and we took a shower by the time Prophet knocks on my door and I let him in. Clyde sits in a chair with just a towel wrapped around his hips, and my heart beats faster, as if in panic, even though I know he’s allowed to be there, and it’s obvious to everyone that we’re fucking.
Prophet clears his throat and pulls something out of his pocket. Necklaces made of small black beads, with a thin metal pendant adorned with a symbol I don’t know. He puts one on the table in front of Clyde, and the other in my hand.
“We’re ready to go, but Brigid’s got a bad feeling. She made these for your protection.”
Clyde groans. “Ominous much?”
But I smile as I put the necklace around my neck, because its presence means acceptance. “Just go with it.”
Chapter 40
Clyde
Riding with the Vultures feels strange even in a car. Their bikes are in front of us and behind us, as if I’m some precious cargo, not the man who was their enemy only days ago. Their willingness to have Road’s back, and by proxy, mine, is rapidly changing my mind about these men I so despised in the past. How much of the dislike was my own, and how much hatred built into being a Butcher?
If we got attacked right now, I wouldn’t find it easy to use Prophet as a human shield, or to offer Rooster to the Butchers for a chance to escape. And of course there’s Road for who I’d take a bullet and eat gravel. How fast can priorities change.
“You good?” Road asks from the passenger seat. He wanted to sit behind the wheel, but he’s not yet fully recovered, and I don’t want him to put himself under unnecessary strain. He hates not being the one in control, but he’ll live.
I stroke his thigh, unafraid that someone passing could see us. It’s a strange new reality I’m growing accustomed to fast. “I’m just thinking. That maybe there is hope, and that over time, your guys might accept me. I just hope neither of us dies before that happens. The Butchers don’t let go of grudges easily.”
Road’s face, sprayed with blood, with dull eyes and lips that can no longer speak my name flashes through my head like a bullet, and judging by his scowl my comment has served him with similar thoughts. He rubs his crooked nose, then the back of his head and drags his hands up and down his thighs, as if he needed to wipe dirt from them.