Page 57

Chapter

Fifty-Two

L IAM

A couple of days later.

They say luck comes in threes, and I am beginning to believe that old superstition as I sift through the rubble.

Brick after brick, rock after rock, and dust…

Well, you get the picture. Anyway, I am knee-deep in shit!

Not literal shit, but you know, kind of metaphorical …

Aaah, nope! I am pretty sure that may have been an actual turd and not a rock that time.

I toss it over my shoulder, hearing a grunt before nearly squealing with joy when I find my trusty apron.

I clutch it, making sure it is in one piece. It has a small burn hole, but never mind that, it adds character!

“Oh please, no. Of all the things to survive. That thing should have been the first to burn,” Dustin groans behind me. I narrow my eyes at him; what a vile thing to wish for! Does he not know how hard I worked to get it smelling like barbecued death and marinated skin jerky?

“That is not coming with us!” Dustin declares. That’s what he thinks!

“I think I might wear it when we get married one day,” I tell him, and he scrunches up his face.

“You will do no such thing!” he snarls, yet I am caught on the fact he didn’t deny he is going to marry me.

“It’s a piece of art! See this stain right here?” I ask, pointing to it.

“That is an impression of a face! Peeled it clean off. I think my butterfly impression is rather good; you can even see his bulbous nose,” I tell Dustin, and he shakes his head.

“There is something wrong with you, you know that, right?” he says, sifting through the rubble.

“You just don’t know how to appreciate art,” I tell him, shaking my head as I toss my apron over my shoulder and move a piece of wall from one of the chimneys.

I nearly wet my pants with excitement; maybe I did a little.

What can I say? I am old, and I’m allowed to pee a little.

The old pipes aren’t what they once were. Sometimes, they leak.

But what I discover makes me realize that the old superstition is, in fact, true; I knew luck came in threes!

I never doubted it for a second, as I stare down at Crux.

His mangled body is all crooked, his arm twisted the wrong way.

He coughs, and I quickly lift my head, looking around.

Dustin has his back to me, which is the best view.

Especially bent over something with my dick in…

I’m getting off track, Frank, you dirty bastard.

Anywho, Dusty Poo is salvaging what he can, so that means I can sneak off with my gift from the Goddess.

Peering around, everyone else is too distracted as they search for junk while I’ve found treasure.

Crux coughs, and I quickly slap a hand over his mouth, not wanting to alert the others that somehow, by the grace of the Goddess, this fucker was gifted an extra life. And gifted to meeeeeee!

I start digging him out when I open the mindlink, looking for Gannon, who is over the far side with Abbie and Tyson.

He hasn’t left her side since she returned to us, though that sire bond I will have to do something about.

Like I knew the risk, and all when I was secretly feeding her my blood, but man I didn’t think she would be so clingy.

She made Gannon promise not to try to change her again after his failed attempt.

However, I made no such promises to her.

And I knew Gannon was worried about her attempting suicide again.

So I made sure that if she tried again, this time, she would have my blood in my system, so she would change.

I may not have made a promise to her, but I did make a promise to my brother to always have his back.

I think he scared her when his blood healed her, burned the wolfsbane right out of her system, and he panicked, so he tried to drown her to force the change.

It was just sheer luck that it worked. Since she already had her wolf, changing her into a Lycan made it trickier.

Sometimes, they will heal too quickly. And it is always the brink of death, along with Lycan blood and venom in their system, that forces the change.

Completely dead, they are dead, you need to make sure to keep the heart beating.

But it's that dangerous, brinking on death’s edge that forces the gene mutation.

This is why, when changing someone, we usually need permission from the King.

Sometimes, it doesn’t go as planned, and intervention is needed, or resuscitation can take a few goes for the gene to kick in.

Regardless, by my first stroke of good luck, it damn well worked!

Although, the sire bond is a bitch. Mainly because I don’t want the girl looking at me all goo, goo-eyed.

No, those eyes are reserved for my brother and my brother only.

And my eyes are reserved for my Dusty Poo.

And now the Goddess granted me the best prize and a third stroke of luck for my good deeds!

‘Psst,’ I hiss at Gannon, and I see his head turn looking for me.

‘Why are you whispering? It’s a mindlink; no one can hear you but me,’ he says, and I wave my arms in the air so he can find me. He nods and lifts his arms as if to say, ‘What?’ I wave for him to come to me, but he shakes his head.

‘Get here now! I need you to help me haul the body off!’ I hiss at him through the mindlink.

‘Huh?’

‘I want to make a kebab out of him. You know, up the bum.’

‘What are you talking about? ’ Gannon snaps at me, and I roll my eyes at his tone.

‘Come here, and I will share him with ya,’ I tell him.

“Huh?’

‘You know, a head on a stick, a chicken stick or kebab. Quick before anyone notices, and they ruin my fun!’ I tell him. Crux groans, and I press my foot on his windpipe to shut him up while waving my arms for Gannon to come help me.

‘I swear if you are making me walk over there to show me something stupid or to toss another rock at me, I will fuck you up!’ he growls.

I wait for him to come to me while chatting animatedly with Dustin, who still hasn’t returned to see my treasure.

And oh, what precious treasure it is! I am already picturing ways to torture him that has my cock straining in my pants with my excitement.

I wonder if Dustin would be down to fuck over his dead carcass?

I shake that thought away; he definitely won’t be!

Maybe he will let me fuck him while I wear his skin as a suit?

I ponder that before deciding against it.

Skewering him would be enough. Perhaps I can skewer him while Dusty skewers me.

My cock twitches at the thought, only to see Gannon coming toward me, and I jiggle on the spot with excitement.

“What is it? For real? That smelly old thing survived, but my fireproof safe got destroyed? What the actual fuck!” Gannon curses seeing my apron.

“That is not all that survived,” I whisper, nodding for him to look over the rubble at my feet. He peers over before looking around, a smirk on his face.

“What do you want to do with him?” he asks casually. He glances around to make sure no one is looking. This is one thing I love about Gannon; he loves the depraved stuff just as much as I do!

That is why this man is my best friend and brother!

Plus, there is nothing hotter than watching another man with a knife, elbow-deep in innards covered in blood.

I have jerked the old gherkin one too many times at the sight of Gannon carving up somebody, although he gets a bit weirded out when I do it in front of him.

He understands and gets me because he is just as fucked in the head as me.

He gets me and my need for sadistic, wicked torture.

There is also no better feeling than watching a grown man shit his pants because he knows he is looking death in the face. Or how their fear smells like burnt hair. The way the light fades from their eyes as they take their last breath. It makes me all tingly and hard just thinking about it!

“Help me get him to the bunker,” I tell him.

“Hey, Dustin, can you please go sit with Abbie and Tyson for me?” Gannon calls out.

Dustin lifts his head from sifting through all the crap holding a broken cup he found, and he thinks I am sentimental about my apron?

What the fuck does he want with a broken cup?

He can’t drink out of it. Half the side is missing!

Dustin nods before climbing over the crap to walk to the other side where Abbie and Tyson are with the King and Queen, taking his broken cup with him. At least my apron is functional! If he’s taking that thing with us, my apron is definitely coming!

Gannon and I start digging the bastard out, and he groans when Gannon accidentally steps on his busted leg.

“He’s going to scream when we pull him off that rebar,” Gannon says as we examine the bar penetrating his gut.

I glance around, trying to find something to muffle him, before taking my shoe off and removing my sweaty sock. “What pretty lips? Now open up wide!” I snarl, and he coughs.

“Kill me!” he rasps out.

“Not until we get you to the bunker,” I tell him, jamming the filthy sock in his mouth and slipping my boot back on. With another glance around, we quickly drag him out.

“You grab the…” I look down, trying to find a way to grab him so that we can get a good grip on him for a quick getaway, but one leg is bent awkwardly. “You get the ass, and I will get the head,” I tell him.

“You get the ass! You’re the ass man, not me!” Gannon says.

“Fine! I will get the ass, just hurry up before someone sees us!” I tell him, and we struggle for a few seconds.

Crux mumbles incoherently in pain before we take off for the old trail behind the garden under the clotheslines.

As we reach the forest edge, we see Peter, and we both stop dead in our tracks, caught red-handed with our new plaything.

Both of us eye him while I consider whether I will have to julienne his ass.