Page 3 of Deathless
“That for Hudson?” Santos nodded at the bacon starting to sizzle.
“Yeah.” Devin grabbed the handle of another pan and tossed some diced potatoes all casually like he was a professional chef. Though he was likely the best knife thrower in the world, so maybe there was some shared skill there. “Dude needs to put on some calories.”
“Invite him to come eat with us.” Torr got the coffee started. Our tools were pretty rudimentary at the safe house, so he was putting some muscle into a manual grinder as a pot of water boiled.
“I did.” There was a note of annoyance in Devin’s tone. “I do, for every meal. Every day.”
Silence fell over the kitchen as no one wanted to say what was on their mind. We’d rescued Hudson from the same cult of women who had enslaved Devin and Santos and forced them to become gladiators. Hudson had been so delighted at being rescued that he’d taken Santos’ gun and shot me in the leg.
After staying for two weeks at the safe houses of my newly formed motorcycle club, the Vengeful Gods MC, Hudson didn’tseem to be improving when it came to being around women. And with me as president, that was an issue.
“Should we revisit the idea that maybe this isn’t the best place for him?” I ventured. I truly wanted to be sympathetic to Hudson. I couldn’t imagine the amount of trauma he’d been through, being used as a captive breeding stud for this cult for years. But my priority was to my club and the safety of the women within it.
Hudson had shot me in the leg only because Santos had tackled him as the gun went off. While I could understand violence being his first reaction toward me, I did not want my or any other woman’s life in danger because of this man’s trauma.
Devin flinched at my question as if I had thrown something at him. “And wherewouldbe the best place for him?”
“I don’t know. But it might be worth bringing up to Dr. Corwin when he arrives.”
Devin’s eyes remained steadfast on the stove in front of him. “He’s not dangerous.”
Santos snorted at that. “Come on, dude.”
“We’ve kept all the weapons out of his reach,” Devin argued. “He doesn’t leave his room because he doesn’twantto hurt anybody. Is that such a bad thing?”
“It’s concerning if just seeing a woman will trigger him into a violent outburst.” Torr set up the pour-over cone onto the coffee carafe and dumped the freshly-ground beans.
“He used towantto hurt people. Now he doesn’t. That’s an improvement,” Devin argued.
“A very impressive amount of progress in two weeks,” I deadpanned.
Devin whipped around to glare at me, every long, slender muscle on his body bunched with tension. As much as I loathed to admit it, he was still beautiful even when pissed off.
“You don’t get to decide how long it takes for someone to heal,” he spat. “Not everything can happen the moment you snap your fingers and command it,President.”
“You’re right. You can explain that to my aunt and uncles if their daughter ends up dead,” I replied. “Or to the Hunter if something happens to Paige. He’s been through this shit with you guys. I’m sure he will be most understanding. Oh no, wait.” I held up an index finger, pretending to think about it. “As president,I’mresponsible for everyone in my club. So that means any bad shit that happens falls on me.”
“So what would you do?” Devin asked coldly. “Stick him in a padded room? Put him on a cocktail of meds? Throw him out into the world to be retraumatized over and over?”
“Like I said, I’m willing to let the doctor give his professional opinion.”
“Right. The therapist that a woman recommended.”
Oh hell no. This man was not going to insinuate any misogynistic shit about my mother. “Fuck off with that. There’s no ulterior motives here,” I said. “We all want Hudson to heal. I don’t want to punish him or make him struggle any more than he already has. But I’m not going to put my people at risk for his benefit.”
Devin faced the stove again, effectively done with the conversation. He turned off the burners with more force than necessary, plated up the food, and stormed out of the kitchen.
“Another highly productive conversation,” I sighed at his departure.
2
DEVIN
“Breakfast,” I called, rapping my knuckles on Hudson’s door. When no answer came, I knocked again. “Hud, you up?”
After more silence, I turned the knob and stuck my head inside. “Hudson, you okay?”
Like every morning, his bed was neatly made. Actually, the entire room was neat as a pin, which was a nice change of pace from the rest of the house occupied by ex-gladiators.
