The six of us might have grown up together, but Daemon has never really been one of us. He always preferred to hang out alone, lose himself in his computer and follow his father around like a needy puppy.
He has lived and breathed the Family for as long as he’s understood its importance and his place. He wants it. He wants it so much I swear it borders on an obsession, but I’m not exactly one to criticise people’s choices. My own are questionable as best.
“Galen’s been given a pass. Did you know he’s been working all this time, just from over the pond?”
My grip on the bottle in my hand tightens.
“No, I didn’t.” Although I’d kinda figured as much, seeing as he’s returned with no issue and his precious spawn is important enough for the boss to demand we babysit her.
“Does he shit fucking gold or something? You don’t pull a stunt like that and get away with it.”
“We don’t know the whole story,” Daemon muses.
“Not right now, but we will.”
“Maybe. I know one thing, though.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, finally turning toward him and narrowing my eyes. Daemon isn’t usually one to say much, or to openly have an opinion on anything. He’s usually too busy following orders in the hope of jumping a few rungs on the Family ladder.
“She fits right in. Fucking good kisser, too.” He slaps me on the thigh, muttering, “I’m out,” and pushes to stand. If I didn’t already regret not kissing her earlier and forcing her into her little one-woman show, then I really fucking do now.
I sit back into the sofa cushions and tip the bottle to my lips, readjusting my jeans as I watch my boys grind up against my little hellion.
The way she moves, even while pressed up against them, makes me hard as fucking steel.