by Elena Monroe
Maybe we were gluttons for punishment, comparing wounds and making sure we both suffered enough being apart. “What do you want to know?” I retorted, expecting him to be too stunned to have any real desires.
Putting his book on the nightstand next to him, he crossed his arms and sat back. “Is this some kind of truce?” Shoving noodles between my lips, I nodded with my mouth full and he continued. “Who was close to your stepdad in Denmark?”
Oh, shit. He was serious.
Moaning and rolling my eyes, I enjoyed the noodles for all they were worth. Taking my time, I made him wait for the answer. “He had advisors, a board that kept their family name in mind, a consultant every time we had to make a family appearance, and a son who was at boarding school until he got kicked out and moved back in.”
Answering in half-truths was the closest I could get to a truce.
Without me asking or pleading for the same respect, he spoke while not looking at me, “Got into it with Donte… He can get out of line sometimes. He’s holding back information I need.”
“Like?” Shoving orange chicken in my not fully emptied mouth, I wanted to moan again but instead I enjoyed it silently, waiting for a labyrinth of an answer that wouldn’t really lead anywhere.
Bowen’s face dropped and his fingers fidgeted with the chunky ring he always wore. It was gold with a snake and the Clave’s C with four diamonds on either side. He was covered in jewelry like it was like his own brand of armor—bracelets and rings stacked against his pale tone.
None of it matched how beautiful he looked sitting there shirtless and vulnerable.
“There’s something going on that’s apparently above my paygrade. I don’t like being kept in the dark. What I do is bad enough already.” His voice was strained and full of plotting. You could fall in the holes if you weren’t careful.
I didn’t know how to respond… When it came to what he did, it hit home in ways I didn’t want Bowen to ever know. He would only blame himself when it was pointless. I survived and that is all that matters now.
I had no doubt in my mind he would get the answers he wanted.
You would have to be simple-minded to go toe-to-toe with the devil and not sign over your soul willingly.
Bowen’s phone rang, pulling focus from our truce when he held it to his ear. “Yes, mother?” I felt myself pay extra close attention, wondering if she was in fact looking for me instead of her ungrateful son who practically rolled his damn eyes.
Without much thought behind my actions, I snatched the phone from his ear and put it on speaker, dropping it down to my thigh peeking out from the towel I was still wearing. “CeCe! Oh my goodness, I’ve missed you.”
I just saw her at the contract signing but that didn’t count when your evil stepdad and even more evil mom sit next to you glaring at the people who gave more fucks than they did.
“Is that my Evey? I have wedding news,” her voice was excited and full of energy for it being this late at night. I couldn’t even imagine the life they led without any kids in their house. When we were kids, they went to parties and poured themselves into bed at dawn—living a much different lifestyle than normal parents.
Now, they probably did all of that with less inhibitions and commitments.
“I can’t wait to hear! You can’t tell, but Bowen is excited, silently excited.” I gave him a savage looking smirk when he rolled his eyes harder and waved his finger over his throat like I needed to wrap it up.
Bowen’s mom ran through minor details like catering, floral arrangements, and the music choices, trying to keep me in the loop even though everything was already taken care of. Bowen wasn’t paying attention at all and when I turned to find his expression, he was fast asleep with his head against the headboard sitting upright.
Quietly hanging up the phone and setting it on the side table next to me, I closed the Chinese food containers before I cuddled up to him, hoping he would just stay asleep.
The next morning, I woke up with Bowen’s dick pressing into my ass and his arm slung over my body, pinning me in place, and I didn’t care if my limbs went numb. Pushing my ass into him, I knew the friction I was taking was a risk, but pushing the limits was kind of my thing.
Stirring awake, Bowen sat up so quickly he didn’t give me time to adjust to the cold without him acting like my heated blanket. “Why are you still in my bed, Eve?”
It was short lived, that truce that made his humanity.
Bowen fell asleep before he could be pissed off that his mom had arranged for the horsemen and their counterparts to spend the night here before the wedding. All of the horsemen were scattered around LA and weekend traffic was a nightmare.
I toyed with the idea of telling him, pushing his buttons. Then I toyed with the idea of him not knowing at all until they showed up.
The blanket was barely draped around me, and the towel was basically acting like a sheet when he looked at me probably wondering why I was still naked beside him.
Tossing his legs over the edge of the bed, I debated sitting up, but I laid there longer letting him bask in how naked I was.
Of course he wasn’t looking.
Standing up stark naked with my hands on my hips, I was feeling especially pointed when I dropped the bomb I knew he missed. “Your mom arranged to have all your friends stay over so they wouldn’t get stuck in traffic.”
The look he gave me over his shoulder was priceless—worth it. “What did you say?”
“Guess we’ll have to share a bed again…”
Padding to my room, I casually found whatever I wanted to wear this time that could torture him. His mom was coming over, so I couldn’t be too on display even though she’s seen parts of me that mean more than some skin.
Shouting from across the hall, I heard him say, “You better be joking, Eve.”
I smiled to myself and contemplated why I enjoy making him so angry with me.
It was our friendship showing through the tension.
All of this felt so unreal; I was marrying my best friend this weekend. In a few days, I wouldn’t carry a name that doesn’t matter, I would be his.
Eve Leona Astor.
I would be born again into a new life, only this one was the one I had wanted all along.
Bowen made it a part of his demands to have the wedding at his house, which seemed oddly personal for someone who is a lockbox. I only knew because I eavesdrop like a pro.
A drunk Bowen was less quiet than normal.
Tying a robe around me, I settled on a ribbed cami and some soft shorts with my slippers.
Appropriate, sadly.
Bowen was standing in the hallway, apparently waiting for me. I practically danced my way over to the door to meet him, but his cold gaze stopped me in my tracks before he walked away.
Oh, good, sullen Bowen was back. I had the barely talking, made of stone, limited edition horseman.
Closing my eyes, I could still imagine his lips on mine. My fingertips touched my lips softly, rubbing whatever was left of him in like lip balm.
Now I knew what to expect on our wedding day. I was worried he’d kiss me, and I would turn the whole wedding into a funeral.
At least I would die happy.
Downstairs, I found Bowey with his phone on speaker while he threw veggies into a blender like he did every morning.
“Absolutely not. Is it a fucking wedding or a shootout? Handle the guys or I will.” Bowen pressed blend when Vic’s unmistakable voice spoke out of the phone.
Vic was laughing, understandably. “You know Jus will love this. The mystery solved, you in fact live in Calabasas and not a bat cave as a vampire.”
Demon. The devil, himself. Get it right.
The doorbell rang, a familiar sound, since I didn’t have a car or proof I even knew how to drive. All I did was feel hostage to his house and that resulted in me ordering everything.
Pulling the door open, I saw CeCe in all her glory holding garment bags. She was much younger than my own
mother or at least looked it with her high, sleek pony and Versace print matching track suit.
Her heels looked like a weapon, and it suited her personality. She would kill you and get her clothes to the dry cleaner on time before the stains set in.
Wrapping her free arm around my neck, she pulled me into her. “Thank god, I can finally hug you. Your mom gave me Jeffrey Dahmer eyes at the negotiation.”
CeCe was never a fan of my mom or her antics, and I took solace in that.
Leaning into me more her, lips found my ear and whispered, “If you ever need me, I’m a call away, Evey.”
I could feel her remorse like it was her fault I was dragged to Denmark when I knew better. My blame was placed accurately and fiercely.
Pulling away only to let her in, she breezed by with her eyes wide like she had never been inside his home. It was making me wonder just how tall the walls were that he built and why they crumbled only for me. His mom should be important enough to skip the line.
My feelings were validated when he buzzed around the kitchen, ignoring his mom completely. Her eyes sunk into an empty stare like she needed to brace herself for the amount of affection that wasn’t coming her way when she greeted him. “Sweetie, how are you?”
She made no attempts to bridge the gap between them, and it made me question when he stopped being such a mama’s boy. He was practically surgically attached to his mom when we were younger, and his brother was always closer to their dad.
We all knew their relationship was unbreakable since he was grooming Braeden to take over his position in the Clave. Until I arrived in LA to find out that Bowen was now working for the Clave instead, in the place of his dead brother.
No wonder Bowen was cold and cruel, he didn’t even have a safe haven in his own mother.
“Bowen, your mom said hi,” I prompted him to say something in return when he brushed past me, his shoulder smoothing over mine in his quick getaway. He didn’t acknowledge his mom at all, and it hurt my heart.
Waiting for Bowen to be out of earshot, her hand clamped down over mine on the counter. “He’s been through a lot, sweetie. I know he’s somewhere inside there, somewhere down deep, so we keep trying. He’ll come back to us when he’s good and ready.”
All I heard was a plea to get her son back, and it dampened all the hope I had in getting my Bowey back.
Opening the garment bag she had hung over on the chairs at the counter, she unzipped it, showing me a delicate, black cathedral veil. My jaw went slack just looking at all the detailing on the lace that would be dragging behind me. “For me?”
“It was mine from when I married Bowen’s father. I had it dyed black; it’ll be your something old.”
My cheeks flushed a scarlet red thinking of the traditions I had pushed out of the forefront of my mind. I had been hyper focused on winning Bowen over before our walk down the aisle that I forgot I needed borrowed, blue, new, and old.
I had the something blue permanently etched on my thigh. The thought had me pressing my thighs together to hold down the butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of my stomach.
I just needed borrowed and new.
VIC
We were late and I wasn’t sorry for it. Justice eyed me like a warhead and definitely sucked the sour from my soul before we even left the house and then inevitably hit traffic.
I had only been to Bowen’s house in Calabasas a few times, and only in the dead of night. It was beyond me why he lived in the nightmare city filled with designer bags and tits.
Hiding in plain sight?
Jus was chomping at the bit, foaming at the mouth, and excited enough to practically roll out of the car before it was parked. I stopped her when my hand closed around her thigh, forcing her to stay in place a little longer. “You know what happens when you tell me what to do…”
It wasn’t an empty threat; it was always a promise. If I forced her into anything, she would do exactly what I didn’t want. I caught on to that a while ago.
Parking in the driveway, I turned my eyes to land on her. “You know I hate secrets. You can uncover them all, snoop, find the locked doors—just don’t get caught. I’m too young to be a widower.”
Letting my hand slip from her thigh, I could see the confusion pour over her features as she tried to navigate my reverse psychology.
Laughing, I grabbed our garment and overnight bags. Apparently, Bowen was opening up his house to overnight guests, and I was contemplating if my best friend still existed.
This was another reason to dislike Eve besides stampeding on guy’s night. She was just supposed to pick his drunk ass up, not scatter the dynamics.
Holding everything in my arms and somehow managing to close the hood of my Porsche, my eyes found Jus again, they always did, as she stood there waiting on me.
“I know what you’re thinking, Vic. I should help, but I know how much you love asserting that dominance…” I saw her lip buckle under her teeth and that pink hair get pushed to one side, showing off her neck I was fond of biting down on.
She had me by the balls—nothing was equal in our relationship. I would hold up the world for her and still pride myself on being an alpha in the room.
“Hey, Peace Corps, ring the damn doorbell.” I gave her my best smirk, knowing exactly where this kind of foreplay leads.
Not long after, a very drunk Bo yanked the door open so hard it sounded like it hit something while his arms slid up the frame, leaning into us. He was holding a bottle of Henny and wearing a powder blue robe loosely tied in the front.
Whoever this was, was not the Bo I knew.
Pushing the bottle up with half of it spilling over his mouth, he laughed and greeted us with slurred words. “Buuuddddy! You came, come in…” Leaving the door open for us, I debated just closing it and driving our asses back home. Whatever this was, wasn’t for me.
Jus turned back, her head over her shoulder, giving me a dirty look like I was responsible for overserving him. Dropping our bags at the front door and hanging the garment bags on the corner of the mirror, I took a deep breath before stepping to the living room.
“Who the fuck is this drunk who looks like Bo?”
Khaos’s wide eyes met mine, and his hand dusted his own throat like I needed to just go with it. He was about to have the world’s biggest headache for his wedding day.
Giving him a perplexed look, I shook it off, letting Bo being whatever kind of drunk he wanted. In this case: sloppy. I knew he drank daily, more than the average person, but I still hadn’t ever seen him wasted. He was too controlled, too well-behaved, too loyal to the Clave to not be immersed in their rules.
The room was a lot lighter than I expected, everyone staying true to our dynamics. Only this time, we were supposed to be coming together for a good reason not a horsemen problem.
Grace and Eve were the troublemakers, without any doubt, mixing drinks behind a bar that was probably the most used space in the house. Jus had wide eyes that might as well have made this Charlie’s Chocolate Factory and her the spoiled girl who was going to get everything she wanted as she started to take steps in the opposite direction.
Grabbing her elbow, I brought her back to my side whispering, “I suffer, you suffer, pretty sure it was in the vows we agreed to.” I could feel her devious smirk acting like the match when I tilted my heads towards the couches across from each other.
Everyone looked like themselves and was acting like themselves, except for Bowen. He was standing next to the piano, holding his handle of Henny, and dancing in a dysthymic way while the robe fell open to show his briefs underneath.
There wasn’t even any music playing until Khaos found his way to the sound bar perched on the mantle and started playing the rap he enjoyed so much. I couldn’t rip my eyes from Bowen who seemed obliterated; I was probably the only one who knew how much he didn’t want to get married.
This was what he called doomsday, ground zero, point of impact.
Sitting down next to Abigail, I f
orced Jus across from me, trying to give our bodies time to recover from her intoxicating me with her pussy powers.
Everything about being here felt like the start of some fucked up horror movie. Something was building up, and it was the part in the movie where the weird guy at the gas station is really a deranged kind of warning you should take.
For the record, my money is on Eve with an axe in the library I know.
I kept looking at Jus, poking her to say something to fill the air that was buzzing with chatter that we weren’t apart of. Everyone found a rhythm when I scanned the room: Abigail’s hand slowly torturing Grimm’s thigh, Khaos laying on the chaise with his eyes glued to Grace, the margarita shaker and music filling the background, and there’s us… too accustomed to truths to ignore them.
Jus kept shaking her head no when she finally sighed, picking up the bottle of Vodka on the table and pouring it over all the shot glasses. Looking up at me with a discontent, she whispered, “I’m not drunk enough.”
Jus had never gotten bit when cornering a stray dog, but she did when Eve put her in her place in the elevator. It shook Justice up in ways I could see, she wasn’t faltering, but she sure wasn’t throwing her hat in the ring as Eve’s friend yet.
She’s slow to warm and dangerous when too hot.
Sitting back and laughing, Eve handed me a drink whispering in a low tone, “It’s not poisoned, don’t look so scared.”
Just to prove I wasn’t going to let some girl from my past make me walk on eggshells, I downed the entire drink in one gulp while maintaining eye contact.
She knew our flaws, and she was testing mine.
Abigail, bless her soul, was making conversation about the wedding. One she was robbed of but somehow, I couldn’t detect any jealousy. Even if they had the chance to redo things, I couldn’t see them putting on a show.
“Did you collect all the trinkets? Something blue, borrowed, new, and old?”