Page 7 of Thor
I dropped down beside him and stretched my legs out toward the rolling water that touched the soles of my boots before retreating again.
“How did it go?” Damian cocked his head toward me, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. It didn’t matter that he had the shades on at night, all he saw was darkness and had since he was born. I’d heard of some blind people seeing shadows and lights, but Damian never had the luxury.
His shoulders slumped forward and he crossed his legs beneath himself, tilting his head in the direction of the ocean again. I never knew his mother because she died giving birth to him, but Odin always said Damian looked like her. He had her dark sandy blond hair, a narrow chin, and large smile, but I saw pieces of Odin in him, too. They had the same wide nose and high cheeks.
“The Souls rocked up. There was a gunfight.” I nudged his shoulder. “You sitting out here so you didn’t have to listen to Odin fuck a screecher?”
Damian chuckled. “What do you think? I don’t want to hear him fuck her.”
“Well, he’s done. She stormed off when she found out he wasn’t going to be her sugar daddy.”
He leaned back on his hands and tilted his chin back, staring upward. “By the way she was screaming when he was fucking her, I didn’t expect any less.”
I patted him on his jean covered thigh. “Want to talk about it?”
“About what?” He smiled, though, and glowed like an angel under the rising moon. Compared to the rest of us, he was innocent. He hadn’t killed anyone yet, and whenever we went on the extra dangerous assignments, Odin ordered him to stay home. I didn’t blame the Pres. Damian might not realize it, but the stay-put order was Odin’s way of protecting him.
“What your issue is. Was it just Odin?”
He grunted and fell back onto the sand, untucking his legs and stretching out. He had longer legs than me, so when the water brushed up against the shore, it soaked the back of his sneakers and the ankle of his jeans. Laying his hands on his stomach, he sighed. “It’s always Odin, but that’s my fucking life. I got him for a dad. Nothing I can do about it.”
I lay back with him and closed my eyes, listening to the crashing waves and soft lull of peacefulness in the lazy wind. The scent of salt drifted in the air, tickling my nose. I’d lived in this mansion since I was five and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Before my mom died, we’d stayed here, and it was the only home I could remember. Dad was shot when I was barely four, and Mom and Odin had raised me since. When cancer took Mom, it was Odin’s job to be a father to me, and he did a better job with me than he had with Damian. Odin didn’t know how to relate to his real son, unable to comprehend Damian’s blindness, or at least that’s what Damian believed. I always thought there was more to it than that, but I couldn’t get to the bottom of Odin’s issues, not when he avoided the conversation whenever I tried to bring it up.
I wanted to fix what was broken, but that wasn’t an easy task. Damian refused to back down. They were both stubborn. “Why don’t you move in with Zeke for a while?”
Damian shot up and poked me. “What the fuck? Why would you say that?”
I sighed and followed him up into a seated position. “Because I don’t want to see you fucking hurt, Dame. You’re my brother, and you’re torturing yourself. At least you have Zeke, and he cares about you. He offered you a room, didn’t he?”
“I bet my ass Odin asked him to do that,” Damian growled out, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging it.
“Fuck Odin. He’s a child. Zeke is family, too. He’s your uncle. He cares about you.”
Damian thumped his chest. “I’m a fucking Norse Lord, Loki. I worked hard to become a member. I did my time as a prospect like every other fucker in this club, and I did it while being fucking blind. Odin didn’t think I could do it, but I did that on my own. Me.” He pounded his chest harder, and I winced because it sounded painful. “I’m not going to run to my uncle and cower because Odin’s ignoring me. Fuck that.”
“Okay!” I held up my palms. “Okay. I just worry about you. I love you.”
He simmered down, his shoulders sagging again, and he bowed his head forward. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re used to fuckheads like Rig who’re always questioning your place in the club. I get it.” And I hated it, too. Rig prodded at Damian every chance he got, looking for a weakness, but Damian never showed his hand. He kept his head down, did the work, and never complained. The wind fluttered at my curly shoulder-length blond hair and I brushed it aside, sighing when some got in my eyes. “Come on. Odin probably has business to discuss. Let’s go.”
Standing, I hooked my hand under his armpit and helped him to his feet. We walked back along the beach together and across the lawn. Apparently Odin wasn’t talking about work because music was already thumping. Through the doors I could see the guys and girls in the barroom with glasses and beer bottles in their hands. Hel was sitting on Hati’s lap, her hair released from the tie and cascading across her shoulders in a mass of curls. Her olive skin was beautiful beside Hati’s bronze, and it was difficult to look away as she ground against his dick while our club doc worked on cleaning and stitching his shoulder. Hel’s and Hati’s mouths were locked in a hard kiss, his palms cupping her breasts and massaging. Hel had a larger sexual appetite than most of the men here, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. I loved her for it.
I shook my head.
“Are they partying?” Damian asked, but it wasn’t really a question that needed an answer. We both knew they were.
I led him to the glass doors and opened them, the wall of pumping rock music smacking us in the face as soon as we entered. Cigar smoke, mixed with the pungent scent of weed, made my nose itch. We went to the bar, and once I knew Damian was seated on a stool, I swept around to the other side, working my way around a few of the old ladies of our brothers as they handed out drinks. I winked at Chelsea, one of my favorites, and grabbed a Blue Moon from the fridge, popping the lid and placing it in Damian’s hand.
“Drink up,” I said loudly over the music.
He smiled and saluted me with the bottle, taking a deep swig. I moved to Thor next, who sat at the very end of the bar with a notepad and pen in front of him. His damp hair clung to his forehead, telling me he’d taken a shower to get the dirt off his body, which was now clean and void of any evidence of a shootout.
He tapped the end of the pen against the lined paper. His gaze was focused on Chelsea, who was tending to the bar like she sometimes did, and I couldn’t tell if he was actually staring at her or if he was in his own little world. I knew for a fact he wasn’t straight, but Chelsea was beautiful, and even gay, I could admit that. She was positively glowing with her rounded baby bump. The pregnancy made her curvier than she had been prior, and she flaunted her newfound body like a proud woman. Heimdall, her husband, acted pleased with himself whenever he saw her, and I didn’t blame him.
Leaning on the bar, ass pointed up, I smirked. “What are you thinking about?”
His gaze slid up and over my shoulder, down the curve of my back, and settled on my ass. “Not that.”
