Page 38 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane (Rise of the Resistance #2)
DELILAH
“ A re you kidding? How could you be part of her ritual? You haven’t been out of the stinking house in three weeks and when you go out, you run to a ritual mating with someone who actively tortures us?”
I know he’s not happy about this, but I also don’t know what to do about it.
He sighs and looks frustrated. “Number one, I didn’t have a choice. The sodding magick took my body and ran with it. Number two, I couldn’t sodding ask you because you’ve been too busy agreeing to get impregnated with demon spawn . Number three…hell, why do I need a three?”
I blink. He’s got me there. I have been pretty unreachable since Taurus and I decided to risk a miracle. Regret fills me and I bite my lip, wishing I’d done things differently. I should have kicked Sari’s ass out of the damn thing the minute this bullshit started.
Philomena grins. “He put you in your place, glamor cat. You haven’t got a tail to stand on.”
I roll my eyes. “No one stands on tails—except for kangaroos. Also, no one asked you.”
Her brow arches. “No one asked me to lead this clan of lunkheads while you spent weeks cozying up to a designer-clad bad boy, either. Regardless, here we are.” Sipping her martini, she gives me a satisfied look. She got in her sly, old-money-style burn with precision delivery and didn’t have to lift a manicured finger.
“True. I’m amazed that the house is still standing. We didn’t get declared a distillery, and there were no illegal substance raids. You’ve behaved.” It shocks me to say it, but it looks like Duchess P really took my absence seriously.
“Exactly. Leave me out of your bickering. I simply pointed out that he isn’t wrong about not having an occasion to talk with you about it.”
Okay, fine.
Rafe snorts and I tilt my head, studying him. “Being in a mating ceremony with Sari was not what you wanted; I feel your discomfort and anger. Something big happened, and you are not on board with it, but now you’re stuck.”
He shakes his head and grumbles under his breath.
“If he’s not gonna spill, can we talk about the fact that we need to throw a monster bacchanal for his birthday next month?” Hex grins, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for months for one of us to have a go.”
Leo pipes in from the kitchen, “I’m already working on the menu. Hex says we’re having a fetish ball. Attire includes lots of leather, latex, and fun. You could do some nifty magick stuff now that you can’t hide it under your bushel.”
Fuck. I almost forgot that Beltane blew my cover; I’m screwed. Everyone knows, and I’m going to have even more people pounding on my door.
“You might as well enjoy yourself,” Rafe grins, knowing what I was thinking. “Especially since you don’t know if you’re p-r-e-g-g-o and Taurus is his name-o.”
Rubbing my temples, I wonder—not for the first time—whether I’ve made a huge mistake. Not in getting pregnant, more like regarding my life choices.
“Okay,” I sigh. “Fetish Ball it is. I’ll ponder some workable scenarios to make use of my spoiled secret. You guys take care of the rest of the planning and execution. Given that the long-haired lunatic is correct, I feel the need to get back to the bird’s nest and see what’s going on.”
“Fly, my pretty,” Philomena says, waving me off like she’s done with me.
Jesus. What have I gotten myself into now?