Page 22

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

DEMI

THREE WEEKS LATER

As Luna writes her book, I dance around the truth with some of her questions.

I think she knows I’m doing this but doesn’t raise an eyebrow at me in contradiction or call me out on my fibs.

For her protection, as well as my own, there are some things she shouldn’t know and most definitely shouldn’t include in her storyline.

She writes fiction for a reason.

She will make an author’s note that says it’s loosely based on a true life encounter, but she won’t name any names or list any places.

She will emphasize that it’s fictionalized to protect the identity of the survivor.

She’s also putting a note in the back with resources for those who have been the victim of a sexual assault.

I found those links and sent them to her already.

Nobody will know this hits close to home for her. And we aim to keep it that way.

Infinitely.

The only reason we decided to go that route and include that message is so that it will bring awareness to women around the globe. These things can happen and do, we have to be cognizant of the people we allow into our circle and do our due diligence in keeping ourselves safe and protected.

Case in point, don’t trust an open drink you plan on sipping on later to anyone. Period. Don’t let yourself become vulnerable, at the end of the day, nobody cares more about your welfare than you do.

“Why is my road name Lucifer in this book?” Xavier asks, dipping a chip into the seven layer bean dip before shoving the entire thing in his mouth. Luna and I are going over the last few chapters of her book, mapping it out and the guys decided we should do this while barbecuing.

“Because you’re the devil,” I return, grinning at him.

“It’s a good comparison because he is the spawn of Satan,” Marcum mumbles.

“Now you admit it!” Xavier shouts, causing us all to jump, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. “Told you our ancestors were raised from the underground, Demi.”

“Why are you stuck on us being ascended from down under?” Marcum questions, shooting lasers from his eyes toward Xavier. “Our parents aren’t descended from demons, you need to get over that and stop telling everyone we’re from the hot zone.”

I mean, we were born and do live in Texas, isn’t that the same thing?

“Dammit,” Luna groans, “get your foot out of my ribs, kid. That hurts.”

Xavier tilts his head toward the side, eyes leveled on Marcum, “Any more questions? Your kid likes inflicting pain. Point made.”

“Xavier,” I giggle. “That’s a normal action. Babies only have so much room to move in the womb. They have to stretch and switch positions.”

My man sticks out his bottom lip, unhappy about being wrong in his thinking. “Whatever. Back to our original topic, I’d rather be named Hades. It’s more badass than Lucifer. You could call Marcum ‘Poseidon’, fuck knows he likes wheeling his gavel around like it’s a trident.”

“I like the name she gave me,” Marcum admits, flipping the burgers on the grill.

Lies—all lies, I saw the way he cringed when she told him what she was referring to him as in her upcoming novel.

But I have to give him props because he supported it and didn’t argue with her about it. Like everything else when it comes to Luna, he just rolls with the punches.

Unless she does something ludicrous like dance on bars when she’s front heavy and her equilibrium is off balanced.

“I’m sure you do, Widowmaker,” Xavier snorts. “That’s a mouthful, I’d break it down to Widow because that’s what I’m gonna make Luna if you burn my burger. Flip, man, flip!”

“I just did,” Marcum growls. “If you don’t like the way I’m cooking them, come do it yourself.”

“I tried, you kicked me off the grill and stole my spatula,” Xavier groans. “You’re such a control freak.”

“The outside of the meat was cooking faster than the middle. Everyone knows you put the patties outside of the flame, not directly on it,” Marcum scolds.

Luna’s and my head volleys back and forth between the two, both of us finding this entire banter amusing.

“Burnt edges are all the rave now,” Xavier counters, crossing his arms across his chest, and sulking.

“Yeah, on briskets,” Marcum argues.

“Okay, that’s enough, you two. If y’all don’t stop now, you’ll be rolling around in the yard trying to best each other. I want to eat, dammit. I’ll starve if you guys decide to see whose dick is the biggest,” Luna complains.

“Mine is,” Xavier quickly puts out there.

“Bullshit, I got the best attributes, you got all my leftovers,” Marcum contends.

“That’s a lie, you were the trial child, you got the bare minimum in case you were a dud, and I got the better, bigger quantities,” Xavier asserts. “Which includes the size of my dick.”

My eyes cross as I try to interpret his words to where they make sense in my head. Boy, when my man gets going, his brain takes a backseat to his statements. I think it was the word quantity that threw me for a loop.

Then again, the entire argument wasn’t well thought out.

Marcum humorlessly snorts before saying, “If I was the trial, you were the error.”

Xavier grunts before standing so fast he sends his chair flying behind him. It’s fixing to be a showdown at the Deviant Knights corral if we don’t herd and wrangle them in before their hotheads get the better of them.

“They’re fixing to go at it, and as a result, Peanut and I are going to die of hunger,” Luna gripes, rubbing her belly which seems to have grown overnight.

I giggle at her dramatics, but then reach over, pat her hand and tell her, “If they do, I’ll finish the grilling and make sure you, as well as my niece or nephew, don’t succumb to hunger pains.”

“They have issues, don’t they?” Luna asks, releasing a pent up rush of air.

“I’ve heard that siblings usually do. Mostly, when it comes to who’s designated as the leader,” I inform her.

“Men,” she harrumphs.

“Can’t live with them and can’t live without the orgasms they give you.” I laugh. “I guess we’re at a stalemate because as much as I want to throttle Xavier, I know my life would be dull without him.”

“And you love him,” she says as a reminder.

“And I love him,” I tell her.

“It’s a damned if you do and damned if you don’t situation,” she mutters.

“Love isn’t damned, Luna. That’s your hormones speaking, not you. It’s trying at times, but it’s not damned.”

“I have no patience these days, Demi. It took a hiatus somewhere along the way.”

“These men have a way of testing that on a normal day. I can’t imagine how it is for you since you’re still dealing with morning sickness here and there, your body stretching to accommodate another living being, and dealing with the demands of your industry.”

In the background, we hear grunts as punches are thrown and Luna rolls her eyes.

“May wanna watch the burgers while those two play Cowboy and Indian,” she states before tilting her head back and groaning.

“If you get blood all over your clothes, I’m not going to be happy, Marcum!

I’m over scrubbing your shit to get blood stains out.

It’s happening more often than not these days.

You’re a fucking child in a grown man’s body! ”

“Maybe he’s having pregnancy symptoms too,” I joke before standing up from my chair and heading over to the grill.

Smoke is steaming and billowing, nearly choking me from breathing in as I stand over it. The juices from the hamburger meat drips, hitting the flames and causing them to rise higher over the grate.

I do a quick flip and slide them further to the side, where the heat is less intense. Out of the side view of my eyes, I watch the two roll around in the dirt, wrestling like they’re in the ring, vying for the championship belt.

Having had enough of their childish antics, I walk over to the water hose, turn the nozzle, and press the lever on the hand-held sprinkler and douse them.

When they jump apart and send me the stink eye, I put my hands on my hips, pitch one to the side, and say, “The burgers are burning.”

“Told you you’d burn my burger,” Xavier snarls. “Asshole.”

I shake my head because he just can’t let it go and march back over to the grill and pull the meat off and put it on a serving tray. I’m not sure if they’re done or not but being pink in the middle isn’t bad for you. At least I hope it’s not.

As we sit and dress our burgers, after making sure Marcum and Xavier weren’t within reach of each other, I scan the table and smile.

Family. My family.

We may be unconventional, we may be a little rough around the edges, but I wouldn’t change a thing about who we are or how we act.

We are who we are and I happen to like the unpredictable.

Fuck knows that Marcum and Xavier keep things interesting.