37. Samson
SAMSON
Rowan is more excited than not to attend game night again. I eye him where he’s bouncing along the corridor. “You’ve been to one before, you know.”
“Yes, but now I’m an official boyfriend and not just some casual fuck,” he says as he links his hand with mine.
“You were never a casual fuck,” I tell him. And it’s true, aside from our very first time together. Even then, I think I saw the signs that this would be something more. That Rowan was someone who’d make me want more. “Besides, you might not want to be an official boyfriend after this.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but I see the twinkle in his gaze as we enter the large room where my family has gathered.
It’s Monopoly night again.
I know what that means.
Harley is going to swallow my iron, shit it out, and then make me play with it again.
I fucking hate when he does that.
Doesn’t help that Nugget is in attendance. I see him the moment I open the door. Ansel has him on his lap, and the little shit is looking way too enticed by the pieces on the table. He wants to eat them for a treat.
I’ve seen him eat his poop more than once; tokens are nothing to him.
Just like with Harley.
“They’re finally here. What the hell were you doing?” Dalton asks and then holds up a hand with a wince. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Rowan’s cheeks flush as he takes a seat. “I was just finishing some class plans for Rhythm, if you must know. Nothing too wild or crazy.”
“Yeah, save that for tonight,” Harley says with a waggle of his eyebrows.
I grab my iron and place it in my palm. I know it’s been through his digestive tract, but still. I bleached it, blessed it with sage. It’s mine. He’ll get it over my dead body.
“Don’t fucking swallow this,” I growl at him. “Or I’ll cut it out with my dagger.”
He just grins wider.
“I still can’t believe you swallowed that.” Rowan shakes his head at Harley in disbelief. All the stories about game night have been shared with him over the past few weeks. Now that he’s officially one of us, there are no secrets, not even about trivial shit.
I won’t allow it.
Harley smirks. “It’s fun to fuck with him.”
I swat him on the back of his head, and he grunts, rubbing at his skull for a moment as Wylder attempts to get us to quiet down. It eventually works, and everyone is left blinking at him.
“Everyone has their money?” he asks, and I see everyone pull out envelopes, setting them on the table. Rowan squeaks next to me as I slide one under the table. His fingers clasp it, and he stares down at it.
“I don’t want your money. That’s not why I’m here.”
“I know that, but you need this if you want to play.”
He flips it open and his mouth parts. I see the pretty blush he gives, and I can’t help but lean over and press my lips to his earlobe. “It’s yours. All of it. Enjoy it. I have plenty to go around.”
His lips pinch as he sets it on the table with a trembling hand. “Fine, but just for game night. Everything else we split fifty-fifty.”
“Yeah, all right.”
My words lack conviction, but I don’t think he notices. There’s no way I’m taking money from Rowan, but it’s sweet that he thinks I will.
He gives me enough just by being at my side.
“Jackson, you’re the youngest, so you’re up,” Wylder says, handing him the dice. Jackson grins slyly, shaking those dice in his fist, slowly, almost sensually. I see the way Dalton watches before glancing away and taking a long sip of his drink.
Then the dice roll, and the game begins.
It’s chaotic as always, money thrown into the pot and that little fucker Harley eyeing my iron like he wants to fuck it.
I want to fuck him up.
Doesn’t help that Cade is whistling nineties tunes and Matthias and Wyatt are looking at one another like they’re plotting something.
I don’t trust any of them.
Rowan, however, keeps me grounded, his cheeks flushed prettily, his ass wiggling in the chair with excitement. He’s getting off on the thrill of it all. It keeps me seated and not lunging across the table at my younger brother.
But the peace is short-lived. There’s a shrill squawk and a chair being thrust back, the room falling silent as we all glance toward the noise.
“You cheated!” Neo gasps, pointing at Matthias, who just stares blankly back at him.
“I never cheat. I’m a lawyer.”
“You’re the worst cheat of them all! And you might have saved my ass once, but still, game night is off the table. That’s the rules.”
“I didn’t fucking cheat,” Matthias bites out, leaving Wylder to sigh loudly. “And if you think I did, prove it. In a court of law. Wyatt will be my lawyer, and you will definitely lose.”
Neo starts to stand up, but Wylder pulls him right back down.
“I don’t want to have to duel. Please. I’m too old and tired,” Wylder says softly.
“But—but—you have to defend my honor,” Neo says with a gasp. “You always do. Your bedtime shouldn’t matter. I’ve been…slandered!”
“If anyone’s been slandered, it’s me.” Matthias adjusts the collar of his shirt. “I never have to stoop to your level.”
“I saw you, you motherfucker. You cheated.”
The two of them start to bicker back and forth, Rowan leaning into me and whispering, “Would there really be a duel?”
“Yes. There are guns and everything. Though I’d prefer a knife fight over those old things.”
He claps his hands in excitement. “Do they need a second? I could totally be a second in a knife fight.”
“No one is dueling,” I grunt and then place my hand on the back of his neck, feeling the excited thrum of his pulse under my thumb.
I bet he could win, too. The thought of him showing off for my brothers makes me fucking excited, my cock perking up beneath the table.
But I don’t have time to envision this in my mind.
Because, amid the chaos, Harley lunges forward, the entire table inching toward me as he falls onto it.
My hand leaves Rowan as I try to reach for my iron, money scattering this way and that, floating through the air.
But Harley’s too fast, too focused. He scoops the piece up with a thunderous roar.
“You fucker,” I shout. “You’ll die!”
I jump onto the table, my knife drawn as Harley pushes the small metal piece into his mouth with a wide grin.
I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, and that’s when my control totally snaps.
I dive toward him, the table screeching under my weight. Jackson jumps and lands on Dalton’s lap with a laugh.
Don’t really give a shit that I’ve caused pandemonium as Harley and I fall onto the floor, wrestling one another, my hand on his throat, my knife lost somewhere in the scuffle.
He stole my iron.
Again.
He’s going to die.
I see him swallow once more, and I know it’s gone, down his fucking greedy gullet. I see red. I spy my dagger beside us and grab it. I wasn’t kidding. I’m going to slice the piece out of him, going to make him bleed for it. Don’t care that he’s my brother or that Rowan adores him.
He’s going to be buried six feet under when this is done.
But before I can slit his throat, I’m pulled off of him by strong hands. I grunt and growl, kicking my feet out and catching Harley in the side and Cade in the groin.
“Fucker! If you’ve ruined my balls, I will come for you,” Cade wheezes, falling to the floor as Ansel rushes over to him.
Nothing stops me from lashing out. Not the cries, or the screams.
It is a foregone conclusion.
My iron is once more traveling through my brother’s digestive system.
I will have my revenge.
Suddenly, soft hands land on me—a stroke, a caress, a soft whisper in my ear. It brings me tumbling back to reality, toward him.
Rowan.
“Hey, Samson. Hey. It’s okay. Come on. Come here. Put down the knife, baby. You don’t want to hurt anyone. Not in front of me, anyway.”
“Rowan?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here. Put down the knife.”
I grunt, my knife falling to the floor, letting him lead me away from the table, my feet padding over dollar bills and discarded playing pieces, my ears catching the sound of Harley laughing.
“I did it. I did it,” he cries before someone muffles his mouth. Thankfully they had the foresight to do this, or I may have pulled away from Rowan and attempted to murder him once more.
I’m pulled onto a small chaise, and Rowan, the love of my life, places my head in his lap, his hand landing softly in my hair, stroking, soothing once more. The red I saw is turning a faint pink, my thundering heart calming the longer he touches me.
“It’s okay, calm down. It’s just a game.”
It doesn’t feel like a game, but I’m starting to think I may have overreacted. Just slightly. Harley did deserve a nice pummeling though. And maybe a painful shit when it comes out.
I hope he feels every millimeter of it going down his intestinal tract.
Rowan distracts me enough to calm me down until I’m nearly purring in his lap, just his presence alone making me not want to commit murder.
Maybe I should stop committing murder altogether. Should consider this thoughtfully, though. For Rowan.
He’s making me a better person.
“Are you feeling calm now? Are you feeling less unhinged?” he asks.
I stare up at him, the rest of the noise around me completely faded. It’s just him. It’s always been just him, from the moment I laid eyes on him.
He’s perfect, and he’s mine.
I can’t believe he’s mine.
My eyes sting, and my nose feels suddenly itchy. I reach up and cup his cheek, and his eyelashes flutter.
“Yes, I’m all better.”
“Good. Good.” He stares down at me with such love in his eyes that I blink back the sting of tears that are threatening to overflow.
“I fucking love you,” I grunt, my voice raspy and thick. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
His lips curl up in a soft smile.
“You deserve all the good things, Samson Buckingham. All of them. But most of all my love. Your dad was wrong—you’re wonderful just as you are.”
“My mom would have loved you.”
“I would have loved her.”
I pull him down for a long kiss, one that earns jeers and whistles from my brothers. But I don’t care.
Right now, all that exists is Rowan. It’s him and me.
Forever and always.
Amen.