Page 26 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
I hear Bez and Gabe arguing as I take my rainbow umbrella, and slip out of the apartment and into the elevator. I know they’ll come after me sooner than later. So, when the doors slide open, I move quickly through the foyer—waving absently at Silas at the desk—and hurry outside the building.
I open the umbrella to stop the snowflakes from turning my curls into a wet mess. It’s bloody glacial. I’m glad Wednesday is still wearing the red cape. I adjust it so it engulfs her body as I keep walking aimlessly.
I pat my chest, not feeling the round urn pendent underneath the jacket. Fuck! I was so angry I forgot it at home. I always take it off when I do the dirty with my men. And now I feel bare, like I’m missing an essential part of me. And that gets me even more infuriated.
I’m not against the tracker, per se. I mean I wouldn’t be if Gabe and Bez had asked me and not forced it on me. Such an uncomplicated topic has turned into a fight, but my voice needs to be heard. They still think they can order me around. The fact that I like to be submissive-ishin bed doesn’t mean I want to be babied in every area of my life. I thought they got it, but from time to time, they slip into old habits—and I let them. Not this time!
I can’t feel my legs anymore—fishnet stockings are sexy but inadequate for icy temperatures—just like my gloveless hands. It has stopped snowing, so I hang the umbrella on my arm by the handle and flex and wiggle my fingers, trying to stimulate the blood circulation. My attention goes to my engagement ring,to the two rubies. They symbolize my men, there to shield and worship the diamond in the middle. Me
I let out a long, defeated sigh. I know I have a big chip on my shoulder. I constantly feel the need to prove I’m strong enough. Good enough. That I’m worthy.
Was I too harsh with them? Since Meg fell into a coma, all the brothers have turned more protective. And for good reason. Phoenix—aka Bird Turd—is still out there. Eight as well. We still don’t know which side Uri’s brother is on.
Maybe I exaggerated a little with Bez and Gabe. Look at what they let me do to the apartment with the altar, the decorations, the whole ritual. They always go along with my crazy plans or just smirk at my petty revenges—which I don’t pull in the office anymore. The underground garage and the first-floor lobby don’t count, though.
They do so much for me. They make me feel so loved and cherished every day. When they prepare my favorite breakfast, turn on the radio on a rock station while I take a shower, crush their lips to mine and give me a warning spank every time we part, growl at whomever looks at me wrong, never fail to keep me safe and satisfied.
Bloody, twat, bellend, sodding fuckers!I’m going to let Sari put that stupid microchip behind my ear because I’m irremediably in love with them.Simple as that.
But right now? Right now, it’s time to find a maggot. I have enough wrath inside me to wreck a dozen of them. Need to vent.
I take my phone out of the jacket pocket, the sparkly rainbow middle finger on the cover shimmers proudly under thestreetlamp. I call Rami as I turn around and make my way back home.
“Yello!” he answers.
“I want to fucking paint this town red!” I clip.
“And green?” he adds.
“What?”
“It’s Christmas time.” His statement has thatduhinflection at the end, which urges me to strangle him—after slugging him hard.
“Not what I meant!” I snarl.
“Trouble in hell?” he asks, sounding unaffected by my ferocious tone.
“Your bloody brothers and that fucking microchip,” I mutter. “Which is just the tip of the iceberg.”
“So what’s hiding underwater?”
“Two controlling arseholes!” Rami bursts out laughing hearing my reply.
I’m coming out of a narrow alley when Wednesday’s head snaps to the left. I hear a small whimper in the same direction, and I see a woman holding a kid’s arm as she opens a car door and sternly tells the boy to get inside.
It’s not the first time that a mother lost patience with her son. It’s not ideal, but Lord knows how many days I drove my gran mad. I’m about to look the other way when I get a glance at the kid’s face. Fathomless terror fills his big dark eyes. A child would never look at his mother that way, unless…
The woman is getting in the driver’s seat when I raise my arm and tell her to wait. She frowns as her small eyes move from my horns, to my hen, my furry shorts, and fishnets and stiletto shoes. Without checking the side mirrors, she slams her foot on the gas pedal and almost leaves skid marks on the street as she drives away.
As the car passes by me, the kid pushes his palm against the window, mouth open in a silent scream, tears running down his pale face.
“Shite!”
“What now?”
“I think I saw… I don’t know what I saw.” Wednesday screeches as she turns her head to the right. A taxi is coming that way, so I raise my arm to stop it. “But I have a bad feeling.”
“Tell me,” Rami says.
