Page 159 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“Well?” I demand, pulling away, my voice already hoarse with desire. I can almost taste them on my mouth and feel them between my thighs. “What are we waiting for?”
Lourdes
TheKrakenMotorcycleClubcompound is a series of large, customized, interconnected bungalows. Thick wooden pillars are eroded into the sand, the waves rising and crashing against the compound, tumultuous.
Dozens of motorcycles are aligned on the sand and in the water, bobbing up and down with the movement of the sea.
The few times I’ve been here, things were always hectic. Blasting with music or the outside being manned by prospects or club members.
Today, it’s quiet. Somber.
It breathes like a funeral.
My breath catches as I push my way inside, taking strength from the men at my back.
The moment we enter, guns turn in our direction and the shadows of my men snap into place, blurring them in their entirety so that whoever looks, will only see shadows.
Those guns lower, though, the moment they see me.
“Holy fucking shit,” someone breathes from within the crowd.
A crowd of both Krakens and Shipwreckers alike. I recognize a few faces, among them the club honeys and Sugar, Scorpion’s sister.
Sugar steps forward, eyes wide as she takes in first the men at my back and then me. “Lourdes? Is it really you? Holy fuck we thought you’d died.”
“I did.”
She blinks and slowly steps back, bumping into the chest of a man wearing a Shipwrecker cut. At first I don’t recognize him with his dark skin and graying, stubbled beard. When he puts his hands on Sugar’s shoulders, I catch his name on the edge of his cut.
Julio Cortazar.
Naomi’s daddy.
I mean, herotherdaddy. Not Daddy Kraken.
I watch as Sugar jolts out of his hold discreetly trying to put distance between them. I also watch as Julio’s eyes go dark with… desire?
Huh.
Sugar could give a whole new meaning to “I’ll fuck your dad and make you my stepchild.”
Go her.
I turn away. “Where’s Naomi?”
I don’t see her, but I see her men scattered around. Scorpion over by the bar, Delfin, a quiet sentinel near the kitchen. Slug and Box are pressed close together, but Box breaks away from his boyfriend to come regard me.
Of all Naomi’s men, Box frightens me the most. Not because of the tattoos that trail over almost every inch of his body, from the sides of his shaved head to his neck. Not even the piercings jutting through his ears, lip, and nose. No. I’m frightened of Box because of the psychotic gleam in his eyes. It’s the kind serial killers wear, and the smile on his face is like that of a great beast who promises to devour you whole, raw, and still screaming.
“Fuck me,” he calls out, his Australian accent so much more pronounced. “Lourdes, baby, that you?”
I smile at him despite my nerves. “It’s me, you big-dicked kangaroo bastard.”
Behind me, I feel the shadows drop and the three of my men step forward. Lorenzo wraps a possessive hand around my neck, his touch a firm promise. He runs his nose down the side of my face. A man marking his territory.
Como un perrito.
“Should I be worried as to how you know this merman has a big dick, Amore?” he purrs. His voice carries across the whole compound and he injects it with a pulse of magic, and I can see everyone shudder upon the full force of the mafia.
