Despicable by Rory Miles
BELLATRIX
“What the fuck?” Ronan asks for the third time as I happily set my cards down, showing him my royal flush.
“Sorry, Ronan. Guess it’s beginner’s luck.”
We’re sitting around his desk, Ronan on his side and Creed and me across from him. Creed is terrible at poker, but Beefcake is actually pretty good.
Ronan growls softly. “How long have you played?”
I grin. “My dad taught us when we were ten, and we played twice a month.”
“Should have known better than to trust a pretty face.”
“Oh stop.” I pull the cards toward me to start shuffling. “I’m kidding, you can continue.”
“I can’t believe you got rejected.”
Wow, he goes straight for the jugular.
“Yeah, well, I did.” This better not turn into one of those you’re so pretty, why are you still single type of conversations. I will go to the kitchen, channel my inner Harlow and pick out the biggest pan, and smack him in the face if he even thinks about going there.
“Apparently, my fated loved the wolf she’d been dating too much to break up with him for me. He was an alpha, and what good is a beta fated mate to an alpha mate? I kind of respect her for staying true to her boyfriend, but I’m still mad, you know?”
He says all of this like he’s talking about some simple slight. The way he glances to the side tells me there’s more to the story, or at least more emotion he’s not willing to share, so I decide to change the subject. We’re supposed to be having fun, not getting depressed.
“Can’t say I blame her after seeing your poker skills.” I bite my cheek, watching the frown transform into a big grin as he barks out a belly-deep laugh.
Keep them laughing to keep them happy. I think Einstein said that.
Kidding. Obviously, it was George Washington.
“You’re funny, Trixie.”
I narrow my eyes at the nickname. “Thanks, Ronnie.”
He grimaces. “Yeah, okay. Trix it is.”
“Thanks, Ronan.”
Creed covers his mouth with his hand, fighting off a laugh. He’s been more than happy watching us trash talk one another and sipping his beer. For a shifter, he’s not as possessive as I expected him to be, but I kind of love it. If he doesn’t mind me flirting with Ronan, how would he feel about more than flirting? We’ve only hooked up once, and I’m not exactly in a hurry to get tied down to one man. If I play my cards right, I could potentially have three new playmates, and damn could we have a lot of fun together.
I can feel seriousness creeping in, dampening the mood the more the minutes tick by. I knew there was only so much interference I could run before they circled back to the murders, so I sigh and stack the cards up in a neat pile.
“Okay. Let’s make a plan.”
They share a look, and I tap the table with my finger.
“Don’t think you’re excluding me from this.”
Creed searches my face. “If you’re in, you’re all in.”
I think he’s speaking about more than the murder, but I decided earlier when he tried to save that shifter I wasn’t going to go back to my house. I’m safer here, and I like them. Sex absolutely has nothing to do with it. Not one bit.
“I’m in.”
* * *
DAX
About two hours into my shift, Trix wanders up the road. She’s searching the trees, trying to spot the guard tower, but she won’t find it. We made sure to make it discrete when we built it. Sticking my fingers in my mouth, I whistle. Her head whips in my direction, and a smirk crawls across her face. She lifts two cans of beer in salute and heads over. I groan and scrub my hand over my face.
She’s the worst sort of distraction, but I’ll be damned if I tell the little vixen to leave. It’s rare you meet a woman so confident in herself and her desires, and seeing as I’m stuck on this fucking island for the rest of my extended life, I’m going to enjoy her company.
When she reaches the tree, I move to watch her climb the ladder. From here I can see straight down her shirt, and if I were a stronger man, I’d look away out of respect.
I’m weak as fuck.
“These steps look rotten,” she mutters, slipping a beer in the front of her shorts and the other under her chin.
“You’ll be all right. Are my friends all in one piece?”
As soon as she gets to the top, she sets a beer on the platform. Her bright eyes flash to mine, mirth dancing in her gaze. “For now.”
I grin and look away, drawing my top teeth over my bottom lip. She has no right to be so funny. She climbs all the way up, grabs the beer can from her shorts, and sits in one of the folding chairs and kicks her foot up on the railing.
“So you still maintaining that I’m not a stalker bit?”
“I’m not.”
She snorts. “You sit up here and watch people all day.”
“It’s different.”
“You stood outside of my house and stared into my windows.”
“Well that’s definitely different.”
“How?” she demands, gesturing to the beer she brought for me.
I bend and scoop it up, side-eyeing her as I do. “Because that would make me a peeping tom, not a stalker.”
“Now you’re talking semantics.”
“Maybe,” I say with a laugh. “What are you doing out here?”
She sighs. “They’re planning the murderer’s demise, and I’ve run out of ideas. I don’t know anyone, so I’m no help brainstorming who it could be.”
I should be there with them, but the guys will fill me in later. Aside from wanting to spend some more time with Trix, I feel obligated to keep an eye on things. My alpha nature drives me to be in charge, to take some sort of control where there is no authority. Letting things be would have never worked out. It was either me taking charge, or me fighting whoever tried to do it for the spot. The only other alpha that was on the island was George, but he was too messed up in the head because of his rejection to try and challenge me.
“What’s your favorite movie?” I push the chair next to her a little closer before sitting down and putting my arm on the back of hers. She barely reacts, but I see her lips quirk.
“Fight Club.”
“The one with the rule?” I ask, surprised she’d be into that type of movie. I’ve only seen it once, but it was pretty insane.
“There are actually eight.”
“Pardon me. The one with eight rules is your favorite?”
She looks down at the shops and nods. “My dad really liked it.”
Sensing her desire to change topics, I say, “I like Lord of the Rings.”
“Hmm. But do you partake in elevenses?”
“From time to time.” I pop the tab of my beer and take a swig, deciding I’m still sober enough for another one. Since we don’t drink often, and we ration how much we have, one beer is almost enough to get me buzzed, but it’s been about two hours since I drank the other one.
“Dream car?” she asks, leaning all the way back in her seat.
Running a finger over her shoulder, I consider the question. It’s been so long since I thought about luxury items. “I really like the old broncos.”
“I think I’d want a McLaren.”
“Can you even drive standard?”
She snorts. “Trust me, I know my way around a stick.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmhmm. Hiking or swimming?”
“Hiking,” I say immediately. After seeing a man drown, swimming is at the bottom of my list.
“Same.” She shoots me a grin and sighs. “So this is what you do all day? Don’t you get bored?”
“Of course, but we’ve learned to make the most of it. We could be miserable fucks who mope around all day.”
Putting her beer down, she turns in her seat, hooking her ankle under her other leg.
“What’s your story?” she asks. “I’ll tell you mine.”
“Nothing unique. I met my fated two years ago, but I was already old and she’d just turned eighteen.”
“Oh. Age gap. Love it.” She thinks for a minute then cringes. “Sorry, obviously I don’t love it if she rejected you. She’s a cunt.”
I scoff. “She was nice. I rejected her.”
Trix takes in a sharp breath. “You did what?”
Running my hand over my beard, I nod. “Yeah. She was so young. She had a boyfriend, and then we crossed paths and bam, her whole life would have been wasted on an old man. I would have died before her, only causing her more pain as the bond would have been fully set. I couldn’t bring myself to put her through that.”
“Wow.” She pinches her eyebrows together. “Do you know how much it hurts to be rejected?”
The question isn’t meant to be rude. She’s curious, and I don’t think she’s judging me for what I did. I feel remorse for the little bit of pain I caused her, but with my rejection and volunteering to leave, she got to stay. The circumstances were unique enough my alpha agreed to it. Most times it’s the rejected that gets shipped off, but even he knew it should be me who got shipped away for life and not her.
“It hurt me to do it, so I imagine it’s similar, but probably worse for the person being rejected.”
“My fated and I met for all of one minute before he rejected me, and it felt like someone had taken a piece of my soul. I tried to do it first, but he was an alpha and his rejection trumped mine.”
“Why’d he reject you?” I ask, wondering if she’ll clam up and shut me out for prying, but she doesn’t. I take a drink to give her time to respond.
“Apparently, being a virgin was a prerequisite, and I didn’t get the memo.”
I choke. “Fuck.” Pounding my fist on my chest to get rid of the burning sensation, I cough. “You’re kidding, right?”
What is it with some shifter packs worshiping virgins? I’ve never understood it. Of course, a bond where you’re both each other’s first is probably fucking amazing, but there’s nothing wrong with experience. At my age, I definitely prefer it and that’s part of why I rejected my fated too. It didn’t feel right being that much older than her and possibly taking her virginity all the while knowing I was going to be the reason her heart broke and soul shattered when I died.
“I wish,” she mutters. “So, here I am. The whore of Pack Ozark.”
The laugh she releases is humorless and her eyes darken with self-loathing, but she shakes it off a second later and grins.
“His name was Chad.”
“Oh wow. Definitely not worth it then.”
She snorts, then slaps her hand over her mouth.
“Oink-oink.” I pinch her neck, lightly tugging on her skin.
“Shut up.” She elbows me and rolls her eyes. “So yeah, now you know my story. And you’re wrong, by the way.”
“What?” I ask, entirely not following her train of thought.
“Her life wouldn’t have been wasted.”
The sincerity in her gaze is too much for me to handle. I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and glance away, eyeing the grocery store.
“Hungry?”
“It’s a constant state of being for me.” Her mouth pulls into a grave line, and her eyes grow serious.
I shake my head and bite back a grin. “Come on, Trix. Let’s go break some rules.”
Her eyes widen, and she jumps out of her seat, clapping her hands and shaking her hips. “I knew you’d cave, Old Man.”
Grunting at the nickname, I slam my beer and toss it into the trash can.
Trix sighs in a rather dramatic way and puts her hand on her chest. “Grumpy and responsible.”
“You’re a brat, you know that?”
“Absolutely.” Her shit eating grin draws a ridiculous smile from me, and she winks at me. “Time to break some rules.”