Chapter 6 Oren
CHAPTER SIX
OREN
I’d healed from my father’s wounds before, but Thorne’s? Shit took weeks, bruising still evident where he’d cracked my ribs. It had been unpleasant because there was no reprieve from the pain, not even while he was out on “personal business.”
Matt was gone too, leaving us under the command of a replacement. While he wasn’t Thorne, he was still an asshole. At least he didn’t throw punches; that was a blessing.
With both of them on leave, we were left speculating why. Liam said family reasons, while both Simon and I agreed they were fucking. I mean, three, almost four weeks? I’d do that shit too.
Whatever the case, I was just glad they weren’t here. It was my first weekend out, and I wasn’t letting anyone stop me from getting plastered and fucked. If the nightlife was as good as Simon suggested, I wasn’t returning to base until Monday.
I almost cried at the sight of my luggage. Thorne made it seem like I’d never get to see my personal items again, and as I adjusted the cross back onto my neck, a sigh of relief billowed from me.
At least Mom’s last piece was still here. Not even Dad knew I’d remolded it from the pendant she used to wear. As long as it remained hidden, there was nothing he could do to break me. Losing this would, and it had to remain my secret.
I tucked my sheer shirt into the black fitted pants I’d decided on.
Flowers were embroidered on the pockets, and I hoped every guy stared at them.
They were my best pair, and anytime I wore them, I always got free drinks.
The shirt was white, with a deep V-neck, and allowed for a perfect view of my chest piercings, something I was proud to admit I didn’t even cry for.
Smacking my lips, I spread the gloss across them as Simon and Liam glared at me. “Perfection takes time,” I said with a wink, as if I wasn’t the reason they’d been waiting for over an hour. With a final stud earring added to my left ear, I placed my hands on my hips. “Thoughts?”
Simon clapped, his enthusiasm only adding fuel to the fire that was my confidence. “Oh, they’re going to eat you up.”
He sat on his cot, wearing a pair of torn, light-wash jeans. The crimson, pinstriped baseball jersey he wore was unbuttoned just below his chest, allowing the hair that resided there to breathe. With his tan baseball cap twisted back, he looked just as bisexual as he informed me he was.
Polar opposite, Liam leaned against the doorway. The black short sleeve he wore hugged his biceps, a slew of various art styles coating his arms. Military-grade cargo pants rested on his hips, and if they didn’t match his demeanor so damn well, I would’ve yelled at him to change.
Using his combat boot to kick himself from where he’d rested, he looked between us. “Can we leave now?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, slipping on the pair of burgundy Oxford dress shoes I’d bought last year in retaliation for dad cutting my spending. What was more fuck you than a pair of extravagant, hand-crafted shoes? “Oh, and here,” I said as I tossed Simon the chapstick he’d asked for. “Lather up.”
Simon popped the cap, earning an exhale of impatience from Liam. Brushing it across his lips, he blew a kiss at the scowling man before tossing it back at me. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
“Please, I need to get fucked. I’ll take a fucking bathroom stall at this point.”
“TMI.” Liam turned, stepping aside to allow us the space to exit the room we shared.
“Oh, shut up. You love it,” I replied. “Last week, you were intently listening to Simon talk about his dick size. The week before that, you—”
“No need to reminisce, Valens,” Liam teased, nudging me through the door. “We all know what you were thinking about during that conversation.”
I laughed, lighter than I’d felt upon arrival. “Me? And what would that be?”
“You know.” Turning around, but continuing to walk, Simon closed his fist, ushering it toward his mouth while his tongue glided against the inside of his cheek. “Being on your knees or something?”
“Oh, I don’t kneel. I may look like a bottom, but sweetie, I top.”
Liam coughed, a laugh escaping Simon in response. “I fucking knew it! I told you, Sai. Consider yourself indebted.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I owe you a beer or whatever the fuck.”
“You placed bets on me? Fuck, next time let me know. I want in.”
“You can’t bet on yourself.” Simon raised a brow as we approached the double doors that led out front. Nudging them open, he dipped his chin to the side. “It’s against the rules.”
“And who says that? There’s no code saying I can’t.”
“Our code says you can’t.” Liam shrugged. “And before you look at me with your esteemed puppy dog eyes,” he jutted a thumb toward Simon, who’d finally elected to walk normally, “he created them.”
With nothing but the night sky to guide us, I placed my hands on top of my head as I smiled, Dad’s credit card heavy in my pocket. “Well, if Simon made them, I’ll let it slide. I owe the man at least two drinks, if not more, tonight.”
Simon grinned, to which Liam added, “If you get him drunk, you’re the one carrying him home.”
“Oh, I’m not coming back until Monday. You’ll have to lift him yourself.”
“I’ll get you to, don’t you worry.” Liam smiled, twinned dimples drilling into his cheeks. “I’m rather convincing, or forceful. I suppose it depends on who you ask.”
“Would free drinks the entire night get me off the hook?” I waved the card back and forth.
At least one perk to being here was access to Dad’s office, and he was still underestimating that I knew his habits.
He’d placed it underneath an expensive bottle of imported whiskey.
Well, that and the three other cards I’d snatched, too.
“You stole the General’s card?” Simon pressed a hand to his chest, releasing a theatrical sigh as he tossed his arm over my shoulder. “By grace, I think I may have found the one.”
“You mean Dad’s card, and damn right. Stick with me, and I’ll buy whatever you want, sugar.”
“God spite me,” Liam mumbled from behind us, though the smile remained prevalent in his tone.
As we continued walking beneath the street lights, I couldn’t help but grin. What Thorne probably meant as a way to break me backfired. It brought the three of us closer in these last few weeks.
I’d profusely apologized to Simon, but he’d waved it away with a blown kiss. It wasn’t the first time a recruit had pulled this shit; it had been Liam before. All Simon said was that he was due for a beating and to make it up to him when the chance arose.
Well, I hoped tonight would make up for it, because I was ordering whatever the hell I wanted. I might pay for it later, but what hadn’t I paid for? Dad had ruined my life and assigned me to a fucked asshole.
The only silver lining was these two fuckers.
Music flooded into the streets, people lining up outside the clubs as we passed a few. Simon knew a spot where the action, drinks, and men were top-notch, and I wasn’t about to turn down a recommendation from him. Despite his unserious nature, he had the best ideas and suggestions.
It looked empty from the outside, no line forming as we showed the bouncer our IDs, but when the metal doors groaned open, a flood of lights, people, and tasteful music drowned my senses.
“Simon, this is…” I gaped, pretending to wipe tears from my eyes. “Beautiful,” I shouted above the music, before a stupid squeal left me.
He smiled, dipping his chin as he patted my back. “Go explore, darling. Just remember not to leave your drink unattended. I’d heavily prefer not to have to beat the shit out of some poor bastard.”
“I think I can beat someone up just fine, but let’s grab drinks first. It’s on me,” I said as we navigated through the crowd to the bar. Already, I’d caught the glances of a few straying eyes, and I inwardly swooned. I was back home, well, at least a part of home.
Leaning on the counter, I waved down the bartender, a burly man with a painted goatee. It glowed beneath the strobe lights, matching the bright pink vest he wore. “Whatcha drinkin’ sugar?”
“Redbull and raspberry vodka for me.” I turned to Liam and Simon.
“I’ll take a shot of Fireball,” Simon added.
“Whiskey. Neat.” Liam ordered.
Passing over the card, I left a hefty tip before I handed out the drinks.
I was prepared to get blackout drunk, and I would’ve hated forgetting to give the bartender his earnings.
“If you need anything, put it on tab ‘Fuck Valens,’ and I’ll cover it for the evening.
” I took another sip, the familiar hint of liquor calming any nerves I’d had about the evening.
“You boys need anything before I go explore?”
Simon offered his typical, cheeky grin. “No, baby. Go prowl. Find yourself a man. We’ll be around.”
With a quick nod, I escaped into the fray. Prowl indeed. There was more candy here than back home, and I was almost overwhelmed. Almost.
Not paying attention to where I was walking, I stumbled back to the front, scanning the crowd. While there were plenty of men, no one stood out as my type yet.
Tall, trimmed beard, extra points if they had tattoos or black hair. I preferred someone to swallow me, because it made it way more fun when I dominated them. Extra extra points if they were a biker, but everyone here was shorter than me, and I’m not the tallest man around.
How desperate was I to get fucked?
Pretty desperate, I answered my own damn thought as I searched for someone lucky enough to get their hands on me. Maybe I just needed to keep drinking. Wasn’t there a saying that alcohol tainted your ability to make good decisions with people because it made everyone hotter? Well, fuck, I hoped so.