Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
All of Clyde’s walls are up and he sneers. “Well if he does, then he better sleep with one eye open.”
That elicits a few chuckles around the table, which is a good sign.
I clear my throat as an unexpected pang of heat travels up my chest. “Wouldn’t expect anything else.”
“Right, anyone has questions before we vote?” Prophet asks, combing his thick beard with three fingers.
Yeti raises his hand. “Can we agree to be allowed to throw rotten fruit at him once a day for at least a week?”
Fucker. I know he’s joking, but I can’t let this go. “Try it. I dare you.”
Prophet rolls his eyes. “That’s your answer I guess, but if I were you, I wouldn’t risk it around Road. He’s got a temper. All for allowing Clyde to stay under our protection, raise your hands. We can revisit the decision next week.” He doesn’t play mind games with me and promptly raises his hand even before I can do it myself.
I owe him. For saving my life, giving me a home, and always having my back. Somehow, I will prove to him it was worth it, despite me sleeping with the enemy.
Creep is next, then Yeti and Sad Billy. Soon, the only hand down is Harvey’s, but that man’s always been a stubborn pain in the ass. Seeing that he’s not going to win this, he reluctantly joins the others and growls. “Fine. But we will vote again in a week.”
By the time that happens, Clyde will have charmed all the guys. Despite the fatigue, I find myself smiling.
Clyde sighs with relief. “I’ll prove myself.”
Prophet strikes the table with his gavel. “Meeting adjourned. Go get some sleep, Road. You look like death.”
And just like that, we’re on our way to my house.
Our house.
Chapter 37
Clyde
I really fucking dislike being ogled.
Acknowledged for my handsome face and good hair—sure. Discreetly stared at when I arrive somewhere on my hog—certainly, but there is no appreciation in the eyes of the people staring at Road and me as we make our way through the elusive settlement in the woods.
I’ve seen pictures of this place, heard stories about all the things that supposedly happen in this “occult commune”, but so far I’m seeing more hippies than witches. Road offers the passersby polite nods, as if him bringing me here wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but I sense the tension in his body grow the farther away from the clubhouse we are.
There are more people around the common areas, like the food hall smelling of stewed meat, or the playground, but now that we’re walking up a path surrounded by cabins, the intrusive eyes of people, who’ve chosen this exact time to water their plants or read on their porches burn my skin.
This place isn’t quite what I expected though. I don’t see any trash lying around, and while the people here are living mostly off-grid, it looks like a functioning community.
Every time I consider saying something, my throat feels so dry my voice dies. Or maybe I’m afraid that Creep is nearby, trying to lip read or some shit. I want to make a joke to ease the tension, but it’s not coming. I’ve been a shell of myself, unable to grasp all the changes in my life.
But there is one constant. Road.
I glance at him, wondering what he is truly thinking about all of this. We’ve not had a chance to talk, and it’s eating me up from the inside. He’s been like a brick wall between me and his club. Though what he meant about me becoming his husband is still a blur to me. We’ve barely graduated from pretending we’re fuckbuddies. Did he want to come off strong in front of his prez, or did he really mean it?
And what do I think about it? We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months, but he knows things I’ve never shared with anyone else. Is this connection real? Or does it feel authentic, because it’s been so intense? I trust him to not turn on me, but that doesn’t mean I want to risk having my heart spat back at me if Road gets bored of dealing with the fallout of being with me.
At least no one bothers us as we walk through the settlement reminiscent of the summer camp that used to occupy this area before I was born. A cat dashes our way and stops a few paces ahead before releasing a prolonged meow.
“Hello to you too,” Road says, resting some of his weight on my shoulder. We’re still being watched, but with there only being so many cabins ahead, we must be almost in the safety of his home.
The cat walks ahead of us, but turns its head every now and then, as if to make sure we’re following. Is this an omen? It’s black.