Page 15 of Cuckoo (Devil’s Murder MC #7)

I almost lost her.

My Katrina could have been taken, and I never would have seen her again. Sure, I would have hunted until the day I died to find her, but not before that sick cult her in ways she may never recover from.

I sucked in a breath, overwhelmed, adrenaline and rage still humming beneath my skin. “Fuck, angel. I nearly lost you.”

“No, you didn’t. The crows helped us.”

The crows. Did she understand they obeyed my commands?

That they flew to her and mobbed the enemy, ensuring she stayed alive until I arrived?

I sent my crow to the murder, and he brought them to her house.

His quick flight and relentless need to protect our female were the reasons she remained at our side, unharmed and safe.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Me? Yes.” I gestured to the cawing outside my window at the Roost. I brought her back here, needing her close to me as the club heard about the attack. “But him too.”

“He’s a part of you,” she realized.

“Yes.”

“I’m grateful.”

Relieved, I kissed her. “Come on. I need to speak to Crow.”

It didn’t take long to describe how the crows intervened, and the Reapers joined us, eliminating three of the Sect members. Obviously, there were more. This wasn’t over. But at least my woman was safe for now, and we could hunt the rest of them.

I wouldn’t let this go until the whole fucking cult was gone. Not one could be left to spread their evil agenda.

Rael gripped my shoulder as we stood in the bar. I kept my gaze trained on Katrina, watching over her as she spoke to the other ol’ ladies. “We’ll find them all.”

“I know.”

“But your mind and soul still feel rage,” he observed.

“Yeah.”

“It’s how I live my life.” He grinned. “That’s how the Reaper knows who to fuck up and send to Lucifer.”

“I’m not a Reaper, bro,” I laughed. It lacked humor. “I’m fucking trying to deal with this, and the thought of those assholes still out there makes me want to do something violent.”

He scratched his chin. “What if we channel that energy into something else?”

“I’ll fuck Katrina later,” I commented dryly.

He snickered. “I met a costume party. The whole fucking club. Right now.”

I liked that idea. “Everyone?”

“Why the fuck not? Bet you can’t guess what I’m going to choose.”

He wasn’t that funny. “A Reaper.”

His hand slapped over his heart in mock surprise. “You gonna morph into a crow?”

“No,” I growled. “I don’t know yet.”

He shook his head. “You’re too tense, brother. Come with me.”

I knew this would be a bad idea, but I followed him anyway.

Half an hour later, we entered the bar, and both of us dressed differently than when we left. The funny?

I was the Reaper, and he was the crow.

No shit. We swapped. Mind you, it was just a joke, but still. We had the attention of the room as the speaker began to blare our song of choice. When “Monster Mash” began to play through the speakers in the bar, everyone looked surprised.

Rael and I began to dance like goofy fuckers, popping around and bumping into one another. My black and white skull-themed makeup, black robe over my jeans and bare chest, and the scythe in my hand made the costume perfect.

Rael grinned. “I fucking love it when they can’t figure me out.”

“ Us out,” I corrected.

“Yeah, I guess it’s both.”

We shrugged and went back to dancing, lurching around the bar as people began to join us.

His crow costume and beak were fucking perfection. He sort of reminded me of Hawkeye but with more feathers, a beak, and a mohawk. A purple one. I never told him to use the hair dye. Rael always did his own thing. Just like me.

Maybe that was why we remained friends.

A sharp whistle pierced the air, and I spotted Crow digging through my chest of costumes that I’d brought in. “Pick your poison, fuckers. We’re all getting freaky tonight!”

My brothers and their women rushed to the chest of costumes, and I sent one of the prospects for another one. By the time we’d gone through about five Halloween-themed songs, everyone was bopping to the music, had a drink in hand, and was dressed outlandishly. Most of them didn’t even match.

I guess they liked my costume choices after all.

Katrina stopped in front of me, wearing a tight white t-shirt and cut-off denim shorts. She looked delicious.

“You’re missing your costume.”

She shook her head. “Nope.” She held up a black permanent marker. “You’re finishing it for me.”

Oh? “What do you want?”

“For you to write PROPERTY OF CUCKOO. You already claimed me. We might as well make that public.”

Fuck. I loved her.

With a grin, I took the marker and carefully penned her request. When I finished, I tossed it away, tugging her against me. Later, I’d show her exactly how much that meant to me.

Right now? I just wanted to feel her close and enjoy this moment. Because soon, I planned to be watching her belly swell with my baby.

“You’re thinking naughty thoughts,” she observed.

“Oh, I am.”

“Then take me in a closet and fuck me, Cuckoo.”

“I love you, Katrina.”

“I know, handsome. Trust me, I know.”

As I watched her sexy ass sway, I decided she would be my wife too. I couldn’t exist without this woman.

Might as well put a ring on her finger to prove it.