Page 9 of The Preachers' Promise
Mal chuckles. “How did I guess that it would involve you being the hero of her story? And getting the dean to agree is a big if.”
Often, I side with Cain over Mal. He tends to be calmer like me, whereas Mal is hotter headed. On this occasion, though, I’m finding it hard to give Cain the benefit of the doubt. Mal is not wrong; this gives Cain the chance to be the hero of the story and lets him consolidate his position with Ophelia over us.
I twist my lips as I mull over what he’s said. “Let’s say this works, and one day, in the not-too-far future, her father wants to see her married and decides you're a good choice. How would that work? I wouldn't be happy with you being her husband and me and Mal being second best.”
Cain shakes his head. “You're thinking way too far into the future. All that matters right now is getting her back. We can sort out all the other stuff once she's here.”
I hesitate, still unsure if this is a route we should go down. The idea of pairing off Ophelia with Cain doesn’t sit well with me. She’s the girl I lost my virginity to. It would kill me if one day Cain got to be the one who marries her. What would it do to the three of us, too? I remember how uneasy I was when Ophelia first arrived, how I thought she would split the three of us apart and distract us from our goals.
Right now, it doesn’t seem like I was wrong.
Impatient, Cain rolls his shoulders, as if working out a cramp. “Come on, man. We just need to know she's safe.”
I’m being selfish. Ophelia needs us. Do I really believe that if I can’t have her then no one can?
Malachi jumps in. “She's at home, with her parents and a veritable army, I imagine, so of course she's safe. She’s probably better off there.”
Mal’s words surprise me, and I turn to him. “Don't you want her back here with us?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “But I'm worried about Cain's role in this. It seems that he's thinking more along the lines of claiming her for himself. I want her back, but I'm not sure if I want her back as Cain’s. I was the first one to ever spend any real time with her. Also, we don’t know yet if we can get security.”
Cain laughs at that. “Are you trying to say that theyearsI spent with Ophelia when we were kids meant nothing?”
Mal drags his hand through his almost black hair, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “You were both different people back then.” He gives his head the briefest of shakes. “You two think I’m some hot-headed idiot, but I brought her down from a panic attack. We connected right then and there. Why should you be the one to be her official boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?” Cain cocks an eyebrow. “What we are is way beyond those sorts of titles. What we are works for us, and we understand thatall of usmatter. It’s just the outside world we’re fooling here, Mal.”
“She’s not yours, Cain,” he bites back. “She was mine first.”
We’re squabbling over her like kids in a toy store. When children fight over them, those toys end up broken.
As I consider Mal’s words, I bristle. “That doesn't have anything to do with it,” I say. “It's not about who was with her when she panicked, or who spent more time with her, or who sheknew first. I could say she's more mine than yours because we were both virgins, but that would be stupid. We all belong to one another now. That's how this has to be. There can't be any other way, or it all falls apart.”
“I agree,” Cain says. “I swear I don't want her for myself. That's not how this works. It might be the first time we've ever done anything like this. But…” He trails off and looks away as his cheeks turn red.
I know what he's thinking.
It's not only the emotional resonance of the three of us sharing her. It might be something new that we’ve only done with her, but we’d all be baldfaced liars if we didn’t admit it turns us the hell on to share her. To watch each other with her.
Mal smirks, but it’s an angry one. “Okay, let's say that this hare-brained scheme of yours is going to work, Cain. What makes you think her parents are going to allow her to come back here and live in this decrepit water tower? Have you seen the place?”
Cain shrugs, as if he’s not got a worry in the world about that. “I could get a team in real quick to spruce this up.” He waves his arms and gestures around him. “We have the solar panels already. We have water. It just needs to be made a little bit nicer. We have money enough to do that, and fast.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Come on, Roman. We can easily hire people to work on it and dress it up some, add some feminine touches here and there. I can have guards here, too, like yesterday.”
“Guards from the father you hate?” Mal asks. “Could you trust them?”
“I do have another option,” Cain says. “In case my father says no.”
“Oh?” I’m intrigued. What the hell does he mean? “Go on.”
“I’ve been fighting. In an underground fight club.”
Mal stares at Cain as if he’s grown another head, but I laugh softly.
“The bruises,” I say, understanding.
