Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
WREN
“This won’t fit in our bedroom.” I straddle a black padded sex bench, pondering aloud, “And it’ll barely fit in our guest bedroom.”
“Do like me and Nash…” Vale lingers her fingertips over the kinky furniture like a game show hostess. “Move to a new house with an extra bedroom you can turn into a sex room.”
It’s been three months since my initiation and over a month since Vale’s.
In that time, to say heaven and hell have broken loose is an understatement. It’s been more like John Wick meets The Notebook with nights of Fifty Shades.
But I’m not complaining.
“Hmm.” I twist my lips, surveying the options in the third-floor demonstration room at Delta’s, my favorite sex store. Vale is their manager and my co-conspirator. “I’ll never convince Sire to move. We’re too close to his church, but…”
I reach for the phone in my back pocket.
Laughing, Vale flops down on a red sex chaise. “That’s my girl; bribe him with kinky sex for a house near ours.”
“Been there; do it almost every night. I have no leverage.” I type my text. “But I have a king in my back pocket.”
Like a cat, she stretches. “Which one?”
“Loch. I’ll get him to squeeze this bench into our guest room, where he stays half the time. It’ll cramp the space and our sex life.”
I send the text.
On the heaven side, we have a new queen: Vale Monroe. She and Nash are making that best-friend’s-dad taboo really work for them. They’re in love, engaged, and Alena knows.
I’m so happy for my second king.
And … I told him so.
On the hell side, when Alena found out that her best friend was in love with her father, she also found out about Loch.
The whole who-Nash-and-Loch-really-are thing. The ex-Bratva thing. The we-have-sex-trafficking-enemies thing. And the whole Loch-was-guarding-Alena-and-hiding-it-from-her thing.
Of course, Alena called off their wedding and broke up with Loch. I don’t blame her. She’s hurt, but so is he.
On his weekends off, he stays in our guest bedroom, licking his lonely wounds and all the cookies I bake for him.
And … I told my kings this would happen, too.
See? I’m like Dolly; listen to me, and all your problems will be solved.
But my kings don’t always listen, and the secrets between us spread like venomous threads, poisoning our bonds and threatening to tear us apart.
Any day, I’m ready for Sire’s secret to unravel our world.
Vale widens her eyes with the mention of my sex life. She stammers, “Do you and Sire and Loch fu—”
“Lord, no!” I laugh. “First, Sire hasn’t shared me since my initiation. Second, Loch will become a monk if he doesn’t win Alena back. I lowkey pity his pity party.”
“So, what did you text him?”
“My plan.” I shrug, smiling. “Have the shop send this bench to my place, and I’ll have Loch put it in the guest room and throw his dirty boxers on it.”
Vale scoffs a laugh, “Sire will kill him!”
“Exactly. Sire will see a breeding bench and want to play stallion tonight, but his brother will cockblock. And maybe…” mischief ignites my eyes, “I’ll finally convince him to get us a second place near y’all. One with a sex room.”
The queens are close: me, Zar, Delphine, and Vale.
Our beautiful beasts and kings have no idea how we scheme behind their backs, all under the sage guidance of The Queen, my badass mother-in-law, Nadine.
Vale twirls one of her long black braids, crushing her Wednesday Addams look. “I feel guilty,” she sighs. “Nash and I are finally happy. You and Sire live in sinful heaven. Zar and Nick are sublime. Delphine and Grant are perfection. Even The Queen has a hot toy now and—”
“What?” I perk up. “Who?”
I thought Nadine lived a sexy, celibate life. Like, she’s the Fairy Godmother of Orgasms, granting all but herself a climax. I assumed it was to honor her second king, the man who died saving her and the boys, getting them out of Russia and away from Ruslan.
But apparently…
Something on the blank ceiling suddenly interests Vale. She won’t tell me who.
I get it. As queens, we balance sharing and secrets. It’s not easy.
“You’re such a clit tease.” I toss a condom packet at her. They’re everywhere in here. It’s like a candy store, except flavored condoms and lube fill the jars.
She bats her lashes. “Just work your Wren-magic and ask Sire. Ask about Nadine’s captive.”
“I heard they have a couple in the bunker.”
She leans forward, gushing, “Yeah, and one of them is serving delicious sub-sin on a cracker for The Queen. Like, he worships her.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Right?”
“So, Axel brought a blindfolded mystery woman to your initiation,” I recap our lives.
It’s a lot to process. “He’s in love with her but won’t tell us who she is.
All the while, Loch’s fine ass is twerking on my last nerve, moping about Alena, instead of winning her back.
And Jace? I swear, that hot man’s dick is too big for his heart to be so broken. ”
Warmth floods Vale’s eyes. Jace is her second king. They’re close.
To outsiders, some may assume the queens would be jealous of each other. But you have to live on the inside—our inside, where the queens share beauty-mark piercings, erotic rituals, laughs, and brutal kings.
You have to be marked by danger, by our world. You have to be initiated to feel our bond. We’re too alike, too caring, too committed. We have too many threats against us not to stand together and hold on tight.
Vale knows I belong to Sire: body, heart, and soul. It’s the same love she shares with Nash.
Yes, Nash is my second king, and I swear, Vale acts as protective of me as he is. She does the same with Jace. Vale’s protective of him.
Pressing her finger to her merlot lips, she hushes our chat, pointing toward the open door.
“What?” I mouth.
“She’s downstairs.” Vale mouths back.
“Who?”
“Her.”
“Her, who?”
Vale whispers her laugh, “Her: Jace’s pea to his huge carrot.”
I jump up. “I gotta meet her.”
Vale jumps up after me. “Oh, hell no, you gotta find a filter.”
I smile, waving my phone screen at her. “Sorry. No filter. No time. Jace has to escort me to the church by seven o’clock. Sire’s expecting me.”
It’s six forty-five, and Vale knows the queens aren’t allowed to go anywhere unguarded. A king always protects us. And whenever I shop at Delta’s, Jace escorts me here and home.
Before she can stop me, I grab my basket of goodies to buy and bound down the grand, wooden staircase.
Delta’s is a popular, yet discreet, store in the French Quarter of Charleston. The owner, a former beauty queen turned woman with three husbands, flipped this historic three-story single house, with its iconic side porches, into a posh destination known for pleasure.
But what most don’t know is that Jace and Grant work here as security. Vale is the manager, Nash is the accountant, and Axel made a deal with the owner, moving our throne room from his office boardroom to the majestic owner’s suite on the third floor.
Fittingly, it’s down the hall from the salacious room with sex furniture.
Our secret room, with its black door and ornate gold hardware, remains locked except to us. It hides the row of black leather kings’ thrones, opposite our white leather queens’ thrones, with a large, low, tufted leather platform in between.
Vale was the first queen to be initiated in our new throne room. I have a feeling Axel’s mystery woman will be next.
And after that?
Well…
On the second floor, guests enjoy the lavish showroom with high-end sex toys and luxurious lingerie. Two former bedrooms on the same level are now a changing room and a boudoir photography suite.
That’s where I find Jace.
Stumbling into a skittering halt at his feet, I drop my basket of sex toys.
Picking up the box with my new nine-inch, Suga Daddy dildo, Jace chuckles, “I’m surprised my big brother lets you use this, and not his dick.”
I smirk. “I’m surprised you assume that I use the dildo, and not your brother.”
Did he just blush?
I twirl, tilting my head. “Whatchadoin’?”
He slices me a guarded look. “Working.”
“With who?”
“Every horny person in this shop.”
I point toward the closed door. “Is there one in particular you wait… I mean… work for?”
Fighting a smile, Jace snarls, “Vaallee?”
“What?” She stands behind me on the stairs. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Uh-huh.” He leans against the white plaster wall. “Then why do you two smell like a cunty coup?”
I chuckle. “As long as you’re nose deep in any cunt, we’re happy. Speaking of…” I point toward the door again. “What’s her name?”
His sexy blue eyes narrow. “Missus None-ya Fuckin’ Business.”
I nudge his elbow, winking. “You sure are cute when you’re catchin’ feels.”
“Wrreenn,” he tries to fume, but loves me too much. “I swear I’ll take you to Dollywood if you walk away. Now.”
“Will we ride the Tennessee Tornado?”
“I hate roller coasters.”
“But I love love. Deal or no deal, or I’ll stand here until I meet your—”
“Jace?” The white wooden door swings open. A stunning brunette with a Nikon camera swinging from her neck asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry, Viv.” Jace shuffles, clearing his throat with his white-knuckled grasp clenching a giant Suga Daddy dildo. “This is… Uh. She’s a… Uh. Umm.”
This is painful.
I stick out my hand. “Hi, I’m Wren. A friend of Jace’s.
” I beam, because … she’s beautiful and Jace is screwed.
“Actually, I’m the wife of Jace’s pastor.
” I snatch the dildo from his hand. “Jace’s progressive pastor, and these are my sex toys, and he was just about to walk me to my husband’s church. You see, I’m new in town and get lost.”
No, I get knee-deep in bullshit lies and hope she’s wearing boots.
“Hi, Wren. I’m Vivian Tate.” Her right hand warmly reaches to shake mine, but I clock the wedding ring sparkling on her left. “And I get it. Jace is always so sweet, guarding the door whenever I have a client. He makes everyone feel safe.”
“Yep, that’s our Jace.” I smack his chest under his dark suit. It’s like smacking the Hoover Dam. “Always keeping us safe.”
No, this is our Jace, breaking my heart.
He’s in love with a married woman.
On the first block between Delta’s and the church, we walk in heavy silence. Vale had the sex bench and my new toys sent to my penthouse before she sent me and Jace on our way.
Solemnly, he strides between me and the bustling road, his sad eyes making me want to pull him into a giant hug.
We stroll past Axel’s law office on Meeting Street, and I can’t take his pain. Tenderly, I offer, “She seems really sweet, and like she likes you, too. So, what are you gonna do?”
“Respect her marriage,” he grumbles. “Even though it’s a shitty one.”
“Shitty?”
“Beyond shitty. I want to kill her husband, but that would hurt her, and hurting Vivian would kill me. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She just wants out of her crappy marriage, but he won’t let her go.”
“How do you know all this?”
We turn left toward the church. Palm trees line the sidewalk outside boutiques and galleries. It’s quaint, but not for Jace.
“We’ve become close friends.” He mutters, glancing down, “Well… as close as her marriage and my morals will allow.”
I loop my arm over his like a little dinghy, casting her delicate rope around a cast-iron bollard. Except, I worry in this storm, Jace will drift away, so I hold on tight.
“Are you in love with her?”
“Painfully.” He lifts his stare, his handsome face, stone.
“Does she know?”
“Accidentally.”
“Are your morals waiting for her?”
“Impatiently.”
God, I love my kings so much. When they hurt, I hurt. “When will you make a move?”
“When I get a sign.”
“Mmm.” I squeeze his arm. “Like, when she cuts off her pinky for you?”
Jace turns his gaze to me. “Something like that.” I smile to lift his spirits. It almost works. He grins. “I’m damn glad he found you. That we found you. You know that now, right?”
“Yep. Just like I knew Sire’s the one for me…” We turn right on Church Street. Speak of my handsome devil. He’s standing on the sidewalk, waiting outside his chapel for us. “Vivian’s the one for you. I felt it.”
Jace huffs, laughing, “You just met her.”
“You just believe me; you’ll be with Vivian one day.” I echo him, “You know that now, right?”
He unhooks his arm from mine, wrapping his over my shoulder as we cross the street. “Whatever you say, little one.”
“You owe me a trip to Dollywood.”
“Deal,” he agrees as we reach the chapel, and I rush into Sire’s waiting arms.
He smiles, murmuring into our kiss, “Dollywood?”
“Road trip,” I sigh over his lush lips, loving how my husband always hooks his arm around my waist, lifting me so our lips can meet.
“Yeah, but this time: shotgun,” Jace adds, giving quick hugs before leaving us, standing on the sidewalk.
Sire reaches for my hand, his worried stare watching his brother’s back. “What happened? He seems upset.”
“I just met his future wife and queen.”
“Hallelujah,” he chuckles. “About fucking time. Literally.”
With a sexy smirk and warm hand, he guides us home through the graveyard.
“Yeah,” I chirp. “I’m gonna have to poison her shitty husband first, but she’ll be our sister-in-law.”
He laughs, brushing past deadly yew-berry bushes. “I never doubt you, Angel.”
Strolling through weathered headstones, with cicadas whirring around, it’s a sweltering, darkening summer evening, but … something’s off. A sudden shiver slithers up my spine.
I look around.
Spanish moss sways from tall oaks. Blood red azaleas cling to their blooms. Ferns, coping the graves, fight for shade. Even the shadows are hot in Charleston.
I’ve grown used to my new home with Sire. It’s so sultry and hospitable, it’s like evil is welcome here, too, until Sire stops, his glare piercing the blackness under the oaks by the iron gate to our home.
“What is it?” I whisper.
Stepping in front of me, he snarls, “Otets.”