I snuggled harder into my man the way he liked it, taking in his scent, bathed in his Christmas gifts. Nuts, spices, and earthy palates from the Arturo Fuente cigars. Johnny Walker Blue Label.
“Love it more than Mr. Vincent?” I teased.
He nuzzled into my hair and sniffed me over and over, like my scent was a drug. My thighs crashed together, reminded of Castor’s warning of my shifter heat. “Nothing’s as hot as that.”
Shoving the heat to the back of my mind, I hummed a teasing noise and tapped his lips, earning a soft nip. “Is your whisky all gone?”
Drinking it came with the condition of special occasions only. We each had a finger on Christmas Eve, and I wasn’t sure if the rest survived until New Years. Slade was the kind of man to share his spoils with his men… his old lady the exception… and with the defeat of the Wolves and cops, he was in an extra generous and celebratory mood, topping up drinks for his club brothers, walking around with platters of finger foods.
He dragged his blunt nails along my flesh and goosebumps scattered everywhere. “We’ll polish off the rest tonight, sugar.”
I bracketed his face between my palms. “My devil is restrained. Shock and horror! What’s the world coming to?”
He grumbled a groan. “I’m owned now. Tied down. An old man. Gotta run shit past my woman or have my balls cut off.”
Some biker wives were crazy. Me, only when another woman looked the wrong way at one of my men and my falcon wanted to peck the bitch’s eyes out. A reasonable response.
I twisted the gorgeous, emerald cut diamond ring he gave me, buzzing at the layers etched into the stone. Engaged but not married. Not to Slade, at least. On paper to Castor, now that we shared a bank account. When my fiery mate found out, war would commence.
I pressed my teeth together and curled back my lips. “About that, Mr. Vincent…” I stroked his chest to ease the sting of my revelation.
“I know.” Pressure from his fingers digging into my hips was bound to leave red marks. “The asshole asked for my permission first.”
I blinked, my brain glitching for a few seconds. Slade allowed Castor to give me his surname… No, that didn’t sound like the president. He was going soft. “And he’s still alive?”
Slade ran his rough palm down my bare back. “I allowed it because I knew what the gesture meant to him. What he went through with his ex.”
Fuck. I swallowed hard. Slade laid down his sword for one of his soldiers.
I laced my arms around his neck. “That’s awfully civil and sweet of you, Mr. Vincent.”
He nipped at my lower lip then sucked it to soothe the sting. “If I ever hear those two words describing me again, the deal’s off.”
I chuckled low in my throat, and his dick bounced beneath me. “Now that’s my fiery War god.” I kissed his throat and squeezed his neck harder.
Residual resentment kindled on the bond but he did a good job of keeping it a low-burning fire and not let it get out of control.
Slade kneaded my ass with one hand, his other on my thigh. “I was thinking we take a ride down to Sydney and stay two nights. Take Mia to the water park, do some shopping for the new place.” Why did my stomach dive when he said that?
Hundreds of war shields blockaded our bonds. The man held back on telling me everything. “Annnd, Mr. Vincent?”
“It’s a concurrent trip.” Fuck. I felt like I was on a roller coaster the way my stomach scaled and plummeted. “Shopping for new furniture for our new place and to scope out Colton’s mansion.”
Of course, it was. The War god in him couldn’t resist a battle. It was what he was born to do. What Set shaped him into.
Slade’s palms came off me and raised as if he were under arrest, knowing I would arc up about that one.
I went to sayhell nowhen a rough finger pressed to my lips. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’ll send you, Mia, Alaric and Castor ahead of us. If any shit goes down, you’ll be safe.”
Laying down the law for once, I grabbed his white shirt so hard he grunted from lack of air. “You listen here, Mr. Vincent. We’re celebrating, so no club talk. And we’re not going after him without a plan.”
Knowing my War god, he already had a plan formulated and kept me out of it since he wanted to protect Mia and me. That pissed me off and hurt more than when he ran proposals past me to get my opinion.
“There ain’t no we, sugar.” He pried one hand off his clothing. “You are out. Period.” He tried to soften it with, “You need to look after Mia,” and gentle skims along my thighs like I was a distressed animal needing pacifying.
Fuck him for using that card.
Now he really had me guns-a-blazing, swords drawn, and spears tipped with flames. “We take the other avatars with us.”
