MAVERICK
Iwake up bleary-eyed, having slept deeper than I ever remember doing. I usually only manage about three hours a night, at best, and they’re broken as fuck. Blinking against the light spilling into the room as the sun rises, I try to orient myself. I’m so fucking warm I’m practically sweating. I blink a couple more times and realize why as the haze finally lifts from my mind.
V is curled up on my chest, snoring softly. She sounds like a fucking kitten. Except her claws are much sharper than that.
I try not to take too much pride in the marks on her skin. Proof that she is mine. Just seeing it reminds me of the first time I marked her. Dragging my knife between her tits. Just thinking about it makes me hard again.
Extracting myself from her hold is easier than I thought it would be, but leaving her isn’t. I don’t know what sick motherfucker is messing with her like this, but when I get my hands on him, he’s going to regret every decision he’s ever made to this point. And if he doesn’t, I’ll make him bleed until he does.
I glance back at her once as I slip my sneakers back on and head out of the room before jogging through the house. Smithy is sitting in the kitchen sipping a cup of tea as I walk in. He looks up at me over his newspaper, an eyebrow raised. “Master Riley.”
“Morning, Smithy,” I say, raising a hand and smiling sheepishly. I’m not used to getting caught making a great escape, though usually I don’t sleep over. “I’ll just, uhm, see myself out.”
He grumbles quietly, before looking back down at his paper. I take the opportunity to duck out of the back door. Thankfully the alarm is already disabled. Jogging through the back yard over to Linc’s only takes a minute and I check my phone as I let myself in through his kitchen door. I didn’t look at it once after I left them to chill with V last night. There’s just one message from Linc waiting for me.
Linc:
Knife handed over to Lucas. I’ll update you when you’re back.
Oops.
I shrug and slide the phone back in my pocket as I grab the orange juice from the refrigerator.
“You better not drink that from the carton.” East’s sleep-filled voice breaks through the silence of the room, and I grin as I lift it to my lips and take a swig. “You’re a fucking heathen.”
I swallow the juice and replace the lid before putting it back in the fridge. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I jump up on the counter as he grabs the eggs from the fridge and pulls a pan from the hooks on the wall. “How was V?”
“Satisfied and sleeping when I left.” I grin as he glares at me. “Hey, I know you went there too. We already vowed we’d be open about everything when it comes to her.”
“You really think last night was the time?” he scolds, waving a spatula in my direction. He hands me the bread and I drop a few slices in the toaster as he cracks the eggs into the pan and starts to scramble them.
“She seemed to think so. I’m done with trying to think I know what’s best for her. I’ll leave that to the rest of you.”
He mumbles in response, but I’m not surprised. I’m not wrong and he knows it.
“Where’s Mrs. Potts? Why are you trying to kill us off with your cooking?”
He glares at me again. “She’s sleeping in. She’s helping Smithy with Thanksgiving prep today before she leaves for the weekend.”
Ahhh Thanksgiving. The one holiday when my parents try to pretend we’re a big happy family. “What are you guys doing for the day? Feel free to come crash Happy Days at my house.”
“We’re going to V’s.” My jaw drops at his response.
The fuck they are.
I guess my parents are going to be real pissed off this year, because that isn’t a day I’m missing. “Count me in, sounds like fun.”
“That wasn’t an invitation,” he growls, just as Linc and Finn enter the room.
“What wasn’t?” Finn asks as he sits down at the table.
“These fuckers are spending Thanksgiving with Smithy and V, so I invited myself along.” I jump down from the counter as Linc rolls his eyes at me.
“I guess we’ll let Smithy know to add two more,” Linc says, turning to Finn. “I assume you’ll be coming too?”
Finn pauses for a second as if, like me, he’s wondering just how much shit he’ll get for not being home. But, his parents are worse than mine. Though they don’t usually try to pretend like mine do. “Yeah, count me in.”