Page 32 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

M y home looks like a fucking military base. Not that I’m complaining. I’m fucking grateful that the Marx family has stepped in to help me and my family after the last ambush, but it comes at a price.

Ewan Marx, the head of the Marx family, isn’t someone who grants favours because he’s a nice fucking guy. He’s anything but. He wouldn’t have agreed to this level of protection lightly, which makes me wonder what the fuck Griffin had to promise to get him to agree.

The steam from my coffee warms my nose as I take a sip, standing on the front porch as I count thirteen black-clad Marx security men guarding my property. And they are just the ones I can see.

There are more hidden in the trees surrounding the house. More again patrolling the boundary. And then, there are the crews stationed strategically on surrounding properties and roads, reaching as far as two kilometres away.

I knew the Marx family had a big private army, but I never expected this .

And I never expected they’d offer me more than a handful of men.

So yeah, I now owe the Marx family. And I owe them fucking big.

My eyes dart up at the low buzzing sound above the barn to find a drone floating by like a mechanical hawk. It’s just another security measure they’ve got in place.

If the Rebels or that fucking cult church try anything, we’ll have advanced warning.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m frothing at the mouth at all the hot testosterone walking around here lately.

” Lani’s voice drags my eyes from the drone to see her standing beside me, her own cup of steaming coffee in hand.

“But how much longer do you think this is going to take? They wouldn’t even let me out on a Tinder date last week.

I’m not happy about getting clam jammed. ”

“Fucking hell, Lans. I don’t want to hear that.”

She just shrugs. “You could always negotiate with some of the men to service me,” she smirks, batting her lashes as she lifts her cup to her lips and takes a sip.

“I’m surprised you haven’t already tried to lure one of them to your bed.”

She nods, swallowing her morning brew. “Not for lack of trying. Either those men are gay, or they are the most loyal bunch of employees I’ve ever heard of.”

I scoff. “Would it be so shocking that they are loyal?”

Her expression drops as she looks at me deadpan. “Mate, I walked into that barn wearing nothing but a G-string and a lace bra that barely contained my tits, and not one of those fuckers looked twice. Are they eunuchs or something?”

Biting back my smirk, I shake my head at my little sister, and return my gaze to a group of men that have just started sparring next to the barn.

“As far as I know, they haven’t been neutered, Lans.”

She sighs. “Looks like I’ll have to pull out the big guns tonight.”

“Dare I fucking ask?”

“Full nudity, brother.” She claps my shoulder as she turns away, speaking over her shoulder as she heads back inside. “Might even have to bring out my Big Johnny Dildo and give them a show. Let’s see how long they last then.”

“For fuck’s sake, Alana!” I spin to see her giggling as she disappears inside. “I’m gonna lock you in your fucking room!”

“Language, Cameron!” my ma calls from inside, and I hear Lans’ laughter grow louder, like she’s fucking happy I just got busted.

Little shit.

As I turn and stare out over the pond, movement to my right draws my attention to see my wife strolling up the hill.

Her shoulders are slumped and her stride is small.

Almost fragile. Her eyes remain on the ground as she walks around to the side of the house where I know she’ll slip in through the backdoor unnoticed.

She’s been down at Bobbi’s grave again, after waking from another nightmare that had her drenched in sweat.

Okay, so waking isn’t exactly the right term .

Blood-curdling screams ripping her from sleep is more accurate.

They started five nights ago, just after Bobbi’s funeral, and have haunted her ever since.

She even tried to stay up all night last night, just to avoid them, but she didn’t last past four in the morning before she was dragged into sleep, and then woke three hours later, screaming.

Going inside, I spend a few minutes with my ma, happy to see she seems to be getting a little better each day.

She’d already had a lupus flare-up during the time I was away from Abbey, handling club business and hunting some of my Angel’s rapists.

Then the ambush happened, and she witnessed the violent brutality of my world, along with Jols and Millie getting shot in front of her… so yeah, she’s been struggling.

With a plate of food in hand that Ma insisted I take for Abbey, I climb the stairs, two at a time, making my way to my room.

Up on the landing, I glance out the ceiling to floor window and I spot Millie over by the barn, sparring with one of the Marx crew.

If it were Lans, I’d immediately think she was trying to seduce the guy. But Millie isn’t like that. She’s over there because she’s determined not to be a victim again. That’s what she told me, anyway.

Fucking hell… everything is so fucked.

Sighing, I step into my room, hearing the shower running as I move deeper, and I place the plate of food on the bedside table before moving to the open bathroom door and leaning on the jamb .

“I can feel you watching me.” Abbey’s voice drifts from the shower, her body hidden by the fogged-up glass until her hand swipes across it, and her eyes meet mine.

“I can’t really see you, Angel.”

Her smile is small. Forced. She’s been struggling to fake happiness since the funeral, but fuck, I wish she wouldn’t even try with me.

I just want to see all of her. Even the parts that hurt.

“Oh well. Too bad.”

Even her voice lacks the will to sound happy.

I chuckle anyway, trying to treat her as normal as possible.

“You need help expressing?” I ask, knowing that’s why she’s having her second shower of the morning.

It’s easier for her to express milk under the hot water. There’s less of it now, the engorgement not such a big issue anymore. She told me that her body will slowly stop producing it if she only expresses just enough to make herself comfortable.

The thing is, she can’t seem to make herself stop.

“No, that’s okay. I’ve got it.” She shuts me down, not for the first time lately, and I fight the urge to fucking pout.

Clearly JD is right, and I’ve got a fucking lactation kink. I didn’t even know it was a thing, but here we are. Although I’m pretty sure it only exists because it’s her.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. She is my kink.

“Ma insisted I bring a plate of food up for you. It’s on the bedside table,” I tell her, pushing away my disappointment at being shut down.

Ever since Bobbi’s funeral, she hasn’t let me draw from her .

Fuck it. Now my cock is getting hard just thinking about taking her nipple into my mouth and sucking until I feel the warm milk spill across my tongue.

A low growl rumbles in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I’m at the door of the shower, swinging it open to hear her squeak in surprise.

“Fine. I’ll eat the food,” she mutters, arms snapping up to cover her tits.

Fuck. I forgot I was talking about the food. My fucking head is too focused on her tits to think straight.

“I know you will, because you’re not leaving our room until you do,” I snap, my gaze trailing down the rivers of water streaming over her curves to the small patch of hair crowning her pussy.

Fuuuck. I’ve still got weeks to go before I can sink inside her.

“Someone’s bossy this morning,” she snaps back, and my eyes dart back to hers.

“Why are you covering your tits?” I dare to ask, and she sighs, looking defeated.

“I figured if you saw them, it’d be like dangling a lollipop in front of a toddler.”

A slow smirk kicks up my lips. “Damn fucking right. But why is that a problem, Angel?”

Her gaze drops to the floor before she turns, giving me her back under the spray of water, yet she doesn’t answer me.

For fuck’s sake. She’s gonna make me demand it, isn’t she?

“Angel, turn around.”

She doesn’t .

“Turn around. Now,” I growl, and just like that, she faces me, her eyes still trained on the tiled floor between us. “Eyes up,” I snap, and they lift to show me the anger in them.

For the last five days, she’s either been completely broken and wracked with tears, angry to the point of violence where the pillow or shoe or whatever is near cops her wrath, or she’s in a quiet, numb, silence. And that’s perhaps, the most worrying of all.

The rollercoaster of her emotions is giving me whiplash, but fuck, I don’t blame her. I’m not angry at her. I just wish I knew how to help her.

My sisters have taken it upon themselves to teach Abbey how to fight and shoot a gun. I didn’t point out that she already seems to know how to handle a gun after killing the Rebel in the hospital, and then what she did to Wendy.

Instead, I remind them to go easy on her, since it’s only been a few weeks since Abbey gave birth. She has healed fast. She’s kinda had no choice, but still, I fucking worry. My concern is met with nothing but death glares, though. Especially from Abbey.

The thing is, while she’s training, she may be angry, but she’s also focused.

The quietness and silent thinking are what truly unnerves me.

I can’t get a fucking read on her, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.

If she were an author, I’d say she was plotting her next bestseller.

But since she’s not, and now that Bobbi is buried, I have a feeling her plotting involves violence. Death. And a helluva lot of vengeance.

Not that I’m against that. I just wish she’d share what’s going on inside her head with me.

“Why is seeing your tits a fucking problem? ”

My question has her eyes dropping again, and my hand shoots up into her line of sight, my fingers gesturing for her to look back up at me.

Reluctantly, she does.

“Answer me.”

“Fine,” she snaps, clearly pissed I’m forcing her submissive side out. “Since the funeral, it hasn’t felt right.”