Page 31 of The Ecstasy of Sin (Brutal Brotherhood #1)

Dominic

Her scent is all over me.

Her arousal still coats my cock as I step into the kitchen where my brothers are gathered, crouched around Hunter, greeting him like he’s the favourite sibling.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Ryker says, grinning. “Where’s your captive?”

My eyes cut to Ghost, who doesn’t even try to hide the smirk tugging at his mouth.

“The three of you are like schoolgirls,” I mutter. “Always fucking gossiping.” My words are sharp, but there’s no real heat behind them.

Ghost’s shit-eating grin pisses me off, which I realize must be because they interrupted me before I had the chance to get inside of Wren.

“When have we ever not been completely involved in each other’s lives?”

Before I can tell him exactly how I feel about that, my bedroom door creaks open, and out walks Wren. Still flushed from her orgasm, looking shy and hesitant; and completely fucking mine.

I make a low rumble of appreciation at the sight of her .

Fuck.

I should’ve dressed her myself, and put her in one of my baggy shirts.

She hesitates in the doorway, her big brown eyes darting between each of my brothers. There's fear in her gaze, her eyes wide and uncertain, and I hate the thought that she may be scared of them.

I reach out, my hand extended toward her, offering a silent promise: You’re safe. You’re mine. Come to me.

She takes my hand immediately, and the possessive burn inside of me eases. I pull her close, pressing her to my side and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Hello there beautiful, I’m Ryk—” Ryker greets her, a stupid grin on his face as he extends his hand and steps up to her. I lash out before he gets the chance to finish his fucking name.

My hand closes around his throat, and I slam him into the nearest wall. The impact echoes through the kitchen like a crack of thunder.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I snarl, the sound inhuman, laced with the threat of violence. I may love my brother, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with his hands on her.

The son of a bitch is grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat, both of his hands lifting in surrender. “Easy there, King Kong,” he rasps, barely able to breathe with my grip still clamped around his throat.

From the corner of my eye, I see Wren take a step back, her eyes wide with uncertainty .

Hunter immediately walks up to her, sitting next to her legs and leaning gently against her like a weighted anchor.

Good boy.

Wren crouches down, her delicate hands brushing through Hunter’s fur, seeking comfort in the softness of his thick sable coat.

I turn my gaze back to Ryker as Torin steps in. One of his scarred hands settles on my shoulder, the other on my arm, applying slow, firm pressure to pull me back from the edge.

“You just have to push his buttons, don’t you?” Torin’s voice is tight with irritation.

“Just—” Ryker coughs, struggling to breathe, “—being friendly.”

I release him with a shove, leveling him with a cold stare before turning away and walking back to Wren. She’s still crouched beside Hunter, petting him like he’s her new best friend.

I reach down and scratch behind his ears, then take Wren’s hand in mine. The second our fingers lace, that feral tension in my chest loosens.

“I see you’ve met Hunter.” I smile at her, nodding towards the handsome guy sitting between us. “The best boy in the whole damn world.”

She smiles up at me. “He’s amazing. I love dogs so much, and he’s so soft… and so handsome.”

Hunter wags his tail, recognizing the word handsome , since we use it with him so often. He looks up at Wren like she hung the moon, and my heart beats a little faster .

“And these are my foster brothers,” I say, jerking my chin toward the others. My eyes catch Ryker’s, and I give him a silent warning.

He smirks, the cocky bastard. The urge to backhand him just for fun is hard to ignore.

“I’m Torin.” He introduces himself first, running a heavily scarred hand through his brown hair. He’s never been comfortable meeting new people, because they tend to ask him questions about the scars all over his body.

Our sociopathic foster mother used him like a fucking ashtray. His hands are mottled by cigarette burns, but his back is the worst. There are layers upon layers of deep scars, courtesy of our foster father, who beat him with whatever cruel object he could come up with while in a drunken rage.

He’s the only one of us that never got any tattoos.

Wren just smiles at him like she doesn’t see any of it. Like the scars don’t even register. Her kindness punches through my ribs, straight to the heart.

Old, pale scars are scattered all over his face and neck… I’m not sure there is any part of his body they didn’t ruin. He’s covered in scar tissue.

“My name’s Ghost.” Our ridiculously intelligent hacker introduces himself next, nodding once. His shaggy black hair falls over his forehead, brushing dangerously close to those pale blue eyes.

His ink is thousands of dollars worth of devotion; a story written in circuitry, code, geometric patterns and an assortment of moths .

“His real name is W—”

Ghost smacks Ryker across the back of the head before he can finish. Ryker has the audacity to laugh.

“That mouthy motherfucker is Ryker, and a pain in the goddamn ass,” I explain, nodding in his direction as he rubs at the back of his head where Ghost smacked the shit out of him.

“They would die without me,” he fires back with a wink. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ghost groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“It’s nice to meet you guys. Did you all grow up together?” Wren is genuinely curious, I can see it in her face. With all of the introductions out of the way, her entire body is now relaxed. Whatever hint of fear I saw in her earlier is gone.

I rub at the center of my chest, a warmth spreading through me. I’m surprised by how right it feels to introduce her to my fucked up little family.

Torin nods in response. “Dominic and Ghost joined the foster home at the same time. Ryker came a few months later. I was adopted after that.”

“Dom and I were nine and seven years old, respectively,” Ghost adds. “Ryker was six. Torin was five.”

Wren’s eyes soften, her cheeks tinting pink. “You guys seem really close.”

“We sleep together sometimes. All cuddled up.” Ryker is stone-faced when the words fall out of his mouth, until Ghost delivers another whack to the back of his skull, causing him to burst into laughter .

Torin groans, dropping his head with the burden of his annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, Ryker.”

“They crash here on my couch a few times a week. Old habits die hard,” I explain, shrugging.

Ghost shoves Ryker’s shoulder, “I keep telling you to ask nicely when you need your ass beat. All of this nonsense isn’t necessary.”

Ryker doesn’t even try to hide the ridiculous smile spreading across his face, his amusement gleaming in his honey coloured eyes.

The motherfucker runs his hand through his messy blonde hair and aims that obnoxiously perfect white smile at my Wren. “He gets cranky if he goes too long without my dick.”

Wren bursts out into laughter, a light and carefree sound, her blush deepening.

I need her to myself. Now.

“Alright. You guys can fuck off now,” I say, my voice flat. “Ghost, take your poorly behaved boyfriend and leave.”

Ghost grabs Ryker in a headlock and starts dragging him toward the front door. Ryker doesn’t fight him—just laughs like the little shit he is.

Right before Ghost shoves him through the doorway, Ryker twists to call back over his shoulder. “See you tonight, King Kong.”

Torin sighs, shaking his head. “Ghost might kill him before your fight, but at least we won’t have to put up with his bullshit anymore.”

I clap my brother on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight. ”

Torin nods, then follows Ghost and Ryker out of the house.

As the front door closes, Wren turns to me, her voice quiet but curious. “Your foster brothers… fell in love?”

I snort and take her hand, leading her to the breakfast bar and pulling out one of the stools for her to sit on. “Nah. Ghost and Ryker are both straight. Ryker just thinks he’s funny. He likes making people question whether or not there’s something sexual going on between the four of us.”

“I like your brothers,” she tells me as she settles onto the stool. I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning in to kiss her lips. “I can tell you’ve all been through a lot together.”

“Is that so?”

She nods, leaning forward on her elbows, arms crossed beneath her. “Yeah. Traumatized people recognize each other.”

I make a mental note to find everyone that hurt her, and kill them all.

Hunter followed the guys out, but he’s back now, sitting beside Wren while she takes out her phone and checks for new messages.

I’m staring at her face, so I see the minute her mood shifts, like a rain cloud moving in over her head.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning against the counter across from her, my back to the large kitchen window.

She sighs, setting the phone down. “I’ve filled out so many job applications that I’ve genuinely lost count, but I still haven’t landed any more interviews.” She looks a little embarrassed. I don’t like seeing that look on her face.

“You don’t need a job,” I remind her, my arms crossing over my chest.

“Of course I do. I need to find a place to live.”

I know my emotions are written all over my face, because her eyes widen when I glare at her. “I thought I made myself clear. You live here with me now.”

“And do I have any say in this?” she asks, her voice weary and small.

I don’t want to diminish her in any way, but she needs to understand that what is growing between us isn’t casual. It’s not temporary. This isn’t a one night stand, or whatever people are doing nowadays.

“No.”

We stare at each other, tension threaded between us, neither one backing down. Until an alarm on her phone starts going off. She holds my stare for a few seconds longer, then sighs and looks down to silence the alarm.

“That’s my medication alarm. Where’s my backpack?”

“Next to the garage door.” I point in the direction I left her bag this morning.

She slips off the stool, and Hunter instantly falls into step beside her as she heads for it.

I watch her walk away from me, my jaw clenching. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for her, but part of me hoped she’d quickly realize that moving in with me is good for her.

I think my little lamb and I need to have a serious conversation.