7. Dove
I replay Wrenley’s words as I brush through one of my wigs.
What he said… it wasn’t just an offhanded comment. There was a reason for it. It takes one to know one.
Is it possible that Wren is like me? Did he trust someone who should have cared about him, only to end up hurt?
The soft tap of Fang’s nails against the hardwood pulls me from my thoughts as he appears at the doorway of my second bedroom, ears perked. “Are you ready for bed, baby?”
He sneezes, shaking out his mane of white fur before trotting into our room. Moments later, he reappears, his favorite sweater dangling from his mouth .
“Are you cold, sweet boy? Mommy’s sorry, she’ll turn down the A/C.”
At the peak of summer, the city has been blistering. But I’d rather sleep naked than let my precious pup shiver. After all, the poor thing barely has any hair.
Once he’s dressed and curled up in his little fort in the corner of my room, I settle at my vanity, rolling my hair for heatless curls. My thoughts drift back to Wrenley.
While the video played, I’d been watching his reaction. I didn’t need to see what was on the screen—I’d been there, in the thick of it, making sure that vile man got what he deserved. But Wren… Watching him, the way he stared, almost longingly. Devoutly. As if the Doll were to tell him she was his goddess, he’d fall to his knees and worship her words as gospel.
Yet he looks at me like he can’t decide whether he wants to fuck me or kill me. I’d be down for the former. And he can try the latter.
I wonder if he even realizes how often he stares when he thinks I won’t notice. How many times I’ve caught him in my periphery. He let me get so close I could have kissed him, and for a moment, I believe he thought I might.
Groaning, I reach for my pack of Black & Milds.
Fang lets out a soft growl .
I glance over. He’s watching me, head raised, eyes sharp with judgment.
“I know, I know! But hey, at least I’ve cut it down to only when I’m stressed!”
His gaze sharpens, and we have a standoff. I glare back as I move toward the window. He looks away when I light up, waving the heady smoke through the small crack. It burns my throat, but my lungs welcome the warmth, even as the rest of my body seizes in protest.
“What is your deal, Songbird?” I ask quietly into the night.
The city sprawls before me, glittering. The chaos in the streets below hums like a lullaby. The cigar lingers on my tongue, familiar and bitter.
Men aren’t the only ones who abuse children. The memory of Wren’s words echoes in my mind.
“Are you speaking from experience,” I murmur, “or did someone you know go through it?”
A painful clench tightens in my chest. And for one fleeting second, I wonder—if he’s gone through it too, will he understand me better? Understand my need for control. Why I keep up this relentlessly chipper personality.
Maybe he won’t hate you so much if you show him who you really are.
But the thought vanishes as quickly as it came .
Because there’s no way in hell he’ll ever understand who I am or what I’ve been through.
We’re opposites.
And this is one case where opposites won’t attract.
A resounding crash cuts through the din of the bar, the shattering of glass drawing attention to the blonde whose shoulders slump in defeat as she stares at the mess.
“Dude, Alex, your new girl sucks.” Bunny snickers before tossing back a shot of tequila. She sucks on a lime wedge, her oversized leather jacket slipping off one golden shoulder, exposing the iris-colored crop top beneath.
“You think you can do better?” Alex snaps, yanking a tap handle down with unnecessary force. “Why are you even here, Bunny? Thought you hated tacos and tequila night.” He mimics her voice in a high-pitched falsetto, shaking his head with exaggerated sass.
He’s not wrong. Typically, I have to beg Bunny to come along, mostly because Hunter is usually here too. But something must have happened between them, because tonight, she’s dressed to impress—and Hunter can’t take his eyes off her from across the room .
Vixey—the new waitress in question—inches up to Alex, her honey doe eyes downcast. “Sorry, Alex,” she murmurs.
“It’s fine,” he grumbles. “I was planning on ordering new glasses anyway.”
Bunny erupts in another laugh, and I immediately reach over to push her next shot out of reach. “Okay, I think that’s enough for you.”
It’s rare for Bunny to be rude to other women, but she hasn’t forgiven Vixey for spilling a rum and coke on her earlier. Never mind that she’s wearing black vinyl leggings, and the mess was easy to clean up.
Vixey shoots me a grateful, fleeting smile before turning away. She’s cute, with a ‘90s style aesthetic—tall, lean, and unsure. Desperate to prove herself. Clumsy as hell. She’s spilled multiple drinks on customers and broken just as many glasses, and it’s only her first night.
Bunny huffs, and I follow her gaze to where Hunter and Wrenley are playing pool with a few women I don’t recognize. It irritates me for only a second before I grab my best friend by the shoulders, forcing her mossy eyes to meet mine. “Wanna get out of here? They have karaoke down at The Lounge. Personally, I’m feeling a little Alanis Morissette.”
I ask Alex for our bill, glancing away just long enough to sign the credit card slip he hands me. By the time I’m done adding the tip and total, Bunny is strutting toward the guys in her Tamer Manolo pumps, her glare sharp enough to rival Stone Cold Steve Austin’s.
“Buns!” I shout, hopping off my stool to go after her—but before I can take a step, a pair of warm hands circle my waist and pull me back against a solid chest.
My senses are flooded with Ryan’s spiced, woodsy cologne. I glance over my shoulder to see him grinning at me. “Hey, babe.”
My heart thumps against my ribs as I whip my head around, locking eyes with Wrenley, who has frozen mid-jump shot to stare at us. I don’t know why I care. The weird tension between us isn’t simmering down anytime soon, but it isn’t romantic.
Maybe getting laid and expelling my sexual energy is exactly what I need.
Spinning in Ryan’s arms, I flash him my best smile. “Well, hi yourself, handsome. I thought you weren’t coming.”
He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to my cheek before whispering in my ear, “Not without you, I’m not.”
I giggle as expected, dragging my hands up his huge biceps to clutch the sleeves of his Henley. “Well, aren’t I a lucky lady tonight?”
It feels forced. Normally, I’d be thrilled to ride Ryan until sunrise, leaving him worn out and satisfied. He loves going down on me, never overstays his welcome, and even brings Fang treats sometimes.
Unfortunately, just the thought of going home with him tonight makes my lower body as dry as the Sahara. Where my clit would normally pulse and swell with need, it’s currently tucking itself further under my hood and peeking around for a certain songbird to pay it attention.
God-fucking-dammit.
I’m going to have to fuck Wrenley out of my system, aren’t I?
Just once. Maybe I’ll tell him I’ll accept one of his pieces on the Baby Doll Killer, and then he’ll bend me over my desk in glee.
Just once.
That’s all I need.
Once.
“Well, I was just talking to Bunny about getting out of here, but,” I glance over my shoulder, where she looks like she’s having a heated discussion with Hunter, “I think she might have found something else to do.”
Ryan looks over my head at them and laughs. “Those two, I swear. Always going at it. They’re fucking, aren’t they? I don’t know what she sees in that asshole.”
“Not yet, they aren’t.” At least, I don’t think so. It honestly wouldn’t surprise me, but I’m pretty sure she’d tell me when it finally happens. Bunny and I tell each other everything.
“Just stay here, then. Let me have a drink or two, and then we can go back to your place.” Ryan kisses the side of my neck before signaling Alex for a beer.
We’ve been doing this for months, but tonight, it feels… different. More intimate. Serious.
Steady.
Things I want no part of, because the closer people get, the bigger the chance of getting caught.
“What’s up with Hunter’s friend?” Ryan murmurs in my ear. “The dude’s been glaring at me since I walked in.”
I peek over. Wrenley is still staring, openly, not even trying to hide his narrowed eyes or the downturn of his pillowy lips. “Oh, we work together. Don’t worry, handsome, it’s me, not you. We can’t stand each other.”
A few of Ryan’s friends walk through the door, and he lifts his arm, curling his hand around his mouth as his words rise above the patrons and the calamity that is Vixey as she spills an entire tray of martinis. “Yo! Guys! Over here!”
He walks their way, meeting them with those half-armed hugs men do. I watch him curiously, wondering why my body isn’t lighting up like it usually does in his presence.
I just need to get laid. Does it really matter by who?
Anything to get Wrenley off my mind.
A familiar smooth timbre sounds at my back. “You can do better.”
Startled, I whip around, craning my neck to meet the gaze of the man who won’t leave my thoughts. “I’m sorry, Songbird, what was that? Did you just pay me a compliment? No!” I place my hand on my chest in mock astonishment. “It couldn’t be!”
Wrenley laughs. Genuinely laughs as he braces his forearms on the back of the stool Bunny previously occupied. “Tell me, is he as stupid as he looks?”
“Now, now. No need to be rude.” I climb back onto my stool, not missing the way Wrenley’s eyes drop to my exposed thighs and linger. “Eyes up here, Songbird. Unless you’re offering to take Ryan’s place tonight?”
His dark brown gaze snaps to mine, darkening as he scans my face. “Take his place to do what, Dove?”
Heat blooms across my cheeks, traveling south as it puddles between my legs. I shift forward, letting the tension thicken. “Fuck me like you hate me.”
I imagine what sex with Wrenley would be like. I like to be in control… but with him? I can see myself co mpromising. Willing to switch, as long as he lets me dominate him in return.
His eyes widen a fraction. I shift to the edge of my stool, pleased when he straightens and steps closer. Our significant height difference still makes it so I have to crane my neck to look at him. My voice drops to a sultry purr. “I don’t hear you saying no.”
He huffs, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a dry smirk before curling downward once more. I jump when the warm pads of his fingers grasp my thigh. His hand is obscured from everyone’s view, settled between me and the bar as he drags his fingers up toward the hem of my skirt.
Ryan could return at any moment, but I couldn’t care less. Wren’s touch lights me on fire, and every nerve ending south of my navel is electrified, begging for his attention to venture where I want it the most.
“Is that what you want?” Wrenley peeks around the bar before hunching slightly over me, slipping his fingers higher until half his hand is beneath my skirt. The air between us is charged and heated—stifling as it steals my breath and suffocates me with his cinnamon-orange scent. His impressive outline strains against his slacks. My mouth waters, and I nearly reach out to run my fingers over it.
I clench my fists and snap my eyes up to his. “It’s clear we both want to. So let’s just screw and get it over with. Get all the tension out of our system. What do you say?”
Unabashedly, I scoot as far as I can to the edge of my seat, relishing the way his fingers dig into my skin. I tighten my legs slightly, caging him in.
Wrenley smiles, and admittedly, it throws me off. He slides his hand up to the top of my thigh, long fingers grazing the edge of my underwear while his thumb slides between my legs. The nail pierces into my flesh, so fucking close to the most intimate part of me. I shift, raising my hips ever so slightly in an attempt to get him closer to where I want him.
I nearly say fuck it and throw myself at him as his other arm snakes around my hip, before he lowers his mouth to my ear. “I wouldn’t have taken you for such a wanton slut, Dove. But it’s good to know that you want me.”
Shock spears through me like a harpoon. Did I hear him correctly? Wrenley steps back, and I bristle, nearly falling off the stool as he walks away without so much as a glance back.
A wanton slut?
Oh, he thinks he’s clever. Thinks he can rile me up and swoop in when my defenses are down.
Well, he has another thing coming.
No one makes a fool out of me and gets away with it .
Wrenley
You absolute fucking idiot.
You had her. She was offering herself up on a candy-coated platter!
I resist the urge to shake my head in disgust and head for the men’s room to deal with my raging hard-on.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Dove just handed me the perfect opportunity to screw her out of my system. One time—that's all it would take. I’d be over it. Over her. Over those goddamn mesmerizing blue eyes.
And the best part? She admitted she wants me, too.
So why the fuck did I just insult her, and walk away like it was nothing? It’s like I can’t help myself around her.
Because you’re pushing her away. You don’t want her too close. The resemblance is too uncanny, and if you look too hard, you won’t be able to separate the two. What happens if you take her to bed?
I groan as I enter a stall, sinking onto the toilet. Elbows on my knees, I clasp my hands behind my neck. One-night stands are one thing. But sleeping with Dove? That’s mixing business with pleasure, and something tells me once won’t be enough. No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise.
Once I get a taste of her, letting go will be impossible.
But so will letting her get too close. If she knew me—the real me—she’d probably laugh in disgust.
The self-loathing does its job. My cock softens just in time for the bathroom door to slam open. I hear the irritatingly rough tenor belonging to Ryan ricocheting off the walls.
“All I gotta do is bring her dog some treats and the bitch drops to her knees and blows me like it’s an Olympic sport, and she’s going for gold.”
My head snaps up in shock. Did he really just say what I think he did?
A second voice snickers. “She’s fucking hot, though, man. I’d be locking that shit down like a felon on a life sentence. Ain’t a man out there who doesn’t wanna fuck her, myself included.”
“I’m sure she’d be down for a little group action,” Ryan laughs. “She likes getting filled in all her holes, if you know what I mean.”
Before I can even process what I’m doing, I slam the stall door open and rise to my full height. The sudden noise makes Ryan flinch as he hastily tucks himself back in his pants. Then he smirks when he sees me .
“What’s up? Wren, right? Hunter’s friend?”
I know he’s a cop. I know you don’t put your hands on cops. I know that if he wants to, my ass will be in jail for this.
None of that stops me from grabbing him by the front of his shirt and shoving him against the tiled wall. His back smacks against the gleaming cream ceramic with a satisfying thud.
“Stay the fuck away from her.”
In hindsight, he could have been talking about anyone. I didn’t specifically hear him or his friend, who’s staring in stunned surprise, say Dove’s name outright. I made a snap judgment and may have to answer for it.
However, none of that matters.
A slow, twisted grin stretches across Ryan’s face. “What’s the deal, man? She says you two can’t stand each other. So, what’s it to you?”
“Because Dove deserves better than a piece of shit like you. Don’t fucking talk about her. Don’t look at her. Don’t fucking come near her again. Do you understand?” I tower over him, grinding his shoulder blades into the wall, nearly lifting him off the ground. “I said, do you understand?” I growl through clenched teeth.
“Dude, let him go.” His friend sounds concerned but not enough to step in, which tells me he’s not a cop.
“Yeah, Wren. Let me go. Why the fuck are you defending the honor of a girl who can’t stand you?” Ryan taunts, as if he’s not seconds away from losing his teeth.
She practically just begged me to fuck her. She can stand me enough to want my cock inside her.
I nearly say the words out loud, but that private—yet erotically public—moment belongs to Dove and me. No one else.
Ryan switches tactics, tightening his grip on my wrists. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“Oh, I’m sure Hunter knows people who dislike your kind.” I smirk, knowing full well Hunter’s going to be pissed I’m using him as leverage. I don’t clarify what I mean by "your kind," letting Ryan fill in the blanks. Could be someone who hates cops. Could be someone who hates cocky assholes who treat women like garbage.
Didn’t you just talk shit to Dove and treat her like crap?
It’s not the same.
I’m self-preserving.
This guy is just a fucking douche.
Ryan’s face drains of color. I hit a nerve. Everyone knows he and Hunter can’t stand each other. It’s a miracle—for him—Hunter even let him near Dove. Since she’s Bunny’s best friend, I would’ve thought she fell under his protection.
“Whatever. Count yourself lucky you can hide behind your little guard dog,” Ryan sneers. “But you better hope I never catch you alone. Putting hands on a cop? Bad move.”
We lock eyes as I release him roughly. He adjusts his shirt, flaring his nostrils before turning to his friend with a shake of his head. “Let’s go.”
I follow them out, watching as Ryan storms through the bar and disappears into the night.
Slowly, I make my way back to the pool tables, scanning the crowd for a flash of pink. Bunny and Dove are gone.
It’s just as well. At least this way, Dove will have time to cool off before work on Monday.