SALEM

Hangovers suck. I don’t usually imbibe in liquor of any sort; I don’t like not having control of all of my functions. Clutching my scalp with the palms of my hands, I groan as I sit up. I’m still angled sideways on the bed, so I use my arms to help me sit upright. Now, both of my feet are planted firmly on the ground but my upper body sways in protest from the motion.

Looking around, I notice that I’m alone and the bathroom door is open, and the lights shut off, which means Cole’s done taking care of his morning business and has headed down to the kitchen. Glancing at the nightstand my eyes widen when I take stock of the time. Never in my lifetime have I slept past eight in the morning, so the fact that the clock is showing it’s well past noon has my eyelids fluttering as I try to clear my vision.

“That can’t be right,” I mumble to myself, vigorously rubbing my eyes with the backside of my fists in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

“What can’t be right?” I squeak as I flip around and face the door. Cole chuckles before shaking his head, walking in, and shutting the door behind him. “You and the girls had some fun last night, I see.”

“We had a blast last night. This morning however is lacking, and I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would want to do that on a daily basis.”

“People’s bodies adjust,” he answers, strolling over to the bed with a fresh glass of ice water in his hand. “Drink this then take these.” He grabs the bottle from the nightstand and shakes four pills loose from the bottle and passes them to me. His ‘then’ comment has me wondering if I misunderstood him.

Who the hell drinks an entire glass of water then swallows pills afterward?

“Thank you,” I say with gratitude. I pop the over-the-counter meds in my mouth then drink the water, drowning my thirst and easing the cotton dry taste that’s taking up residence on my tongue. I choke on the pills as my parched throat tries to open up and allow them passage. Instead, they stick to my tonsils like adhesive and refuse to go down the hatch. I spit the pills back out into my hand as confusion wraps around me.

I’m a grown ass woman and yet I can’t even manage to swallow four small, round pills?

“That’s why I wanted you to drink down some of the water first,” Cole admonishes, but there’s no wrath in his tone. Just resignation. “Try again.”

Scanning down, I shoot the pills the evil eye before lifting my glass and emptying half the glass before popping them back into my mouth. This time I’m successful in the endeavor and it takes all of my willpower not to pump my fist in the air from the success.

Reverting back to one's childhood isn’t alluring to a partner when you’re on the cusp of constructing a watertight foundation in a new relationship. And I’m stubborn, determined that Cole and I will build a floodproofed skyscraper that can’t be detonated and that no one can crumble.

A knock on the door has both of us looking in that direction. “Knock, knock,” Texas rumbles through the wooden door.

“Come on in,” Cole answers, giving his brother permission to enter. Looking down to make sure I’m decent, I’m satisfied that I’m not being disrespectful to Jessia. I still adorn my tee up top, and my lower half is covered entirely by the sheet. “I wouldn’t have called him in if he could see what belongs to me.”

I nod my head as Texas strolls in. “Got you something that’ll help you feel human again.”

The glass is red and thick. “Tomato juice?” I ask.

“Sure,” he remarks, not making me confident enough to take the drink from him.

“That’s not reassuring, Texas,” I scold, grabbing my head when the pounding in my skull escalates, making me wish I was still encased in a sleep-induced coma. Darkness was good, why the hell did I have to wake up from that glorious bliss?

Cole takes the cup from Texas and tilts it toward my mouth, “Drink,” he orders. “Trust us. This really will help you.”

Trusting him, I succumb to his wishes and open my mouth and allow the liquid to be poured into my mouth. After the first swallow, I spew it out and it coats Cole from chest to forehead. “What the holy hell is that?”

“Hair of the dog,” Texas chuckles.

“Hair of the what?” I ask, flustered because that tastes like dog shit, not dog hair. Not that either would be scrumptious to me but fuck that shit’s gross.

“It’s a known concept that if you drink what ails you, you’ll be up and about in no time, feeling more like yourself,” Cole answers.

“Well, whoever came up with that concept is an asshole,” I squawk, rubbing the roof of my mouth with my tongue trying to wipe away the disgusting taste. “Must’ve been a man because women are smarter than that.”

“Not smart enough considering you’re refusing to drink it. This works, we’ve all had to drink the concoction after a night of partying,” Texas confesses. “Stop being such a girly-girl, open the hatch and swallow.”

“Newsflash, Texas. I am a girl,” I say with a condescending tone.

“Ya don’t say,” he laughs. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.” He pats Cole on the shoulder as if he feels sorry for him before leaving the two of us alone.

“If I drink that, I’m gonna puke,” I reiterate, my eyes never leaving the vile contents inside of the cup while speaking. “Then I’ll have to clean it up, and I’ll puke again. My stomach is weak, and I can’t handle vomit. At. All. The smell alone makes my stomach churn. It’s a cycle that just keeps repeating itself.”

“That’s good to know, darlin’. How about if we take it to the bathroom so that if you do get sick you can aim toward the toilet,” he suggests, mirth dancing in his irises.

“You think this is funny?” I ask, irritated and riled up that my affliction is amusing to him.

“No. I don’t find it funny, but I do find you cute as fuck all disheveled and spitting mad. I’ve always wondered if I’d ever see your claws or if you kept them retracted. You’re so even keeled that I was starting to think you weren’t entirely human.”

“What? You thought I was an android?” I shoot back.

He chuckles before saying, “Nah. I always knew you were too good to be true, but now I know you’re perfect for me.”

“You think I’m perfect? For you?” I ask, dumbfounded by the declaration. And yet, at the same time, somewhat bemused.

He hangs his head before admitting, “Always have.”

POWERHOUSE

Wanting to climb myself out of this pending conversation, I bring back up the subject that started this spiral of me opening my mouth and inserting my foot. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you into the bathroom so we can make you feel more like yourself.”

“Do we have to?” she whines, glaring at the cup in my hand, but accepting my help standing. “If I throw up, I’m blaming you.”

“I don’t remember handing you liquor last night nor forcing it down your throat. This is all on you, darlin’,” I dispute.

“Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes then moaning from the effort. “That hurts.”

“I’m sure it does. Come on, the sooner we get this down your throat the sooner you can join the land of the living.”

* * *

“Remind me to kick Texas in the gonads,” Salem whimpers as I escort her down the corridor and into the kitchen. “He’s the devil in disguise. Go ahead, you can admit it to me.”

“If we were sheltering the devil at the clubhouse, I’d never admit it,” I joke. “Don’t want a pitchfork shoved up my ass.”

“Touché. Okay, I’ll let you have that one,” she says, slowly moving at my side as we hit the archway of the main room. “I’m just going to sit here and wait for death to claim me.” She leaves my side and hands to the L shaped couch we have tucked into the corner. “Would you do me a favor and be my coffee wench?”

“Sure,” I snark. “How do you like yours?”

“A little coffee with my sugar and cream, thanks.” She dismisses me as she turns on the couch and puts her head on the back cushion.

“Now that’s a pathetic sight,” Gunner tuts, crossing his arms across his chest as he shakes his head. “Had to force that shit Texas brought us down Cam’s throat this morning.”

“Same,” I tell him. “I thought I was going to have a one-woman riot on my hands.”

“Did Salem call Texas all sorts of an asshole?” he questions.

“No, but she did ask me if we were housing Lucifer,” I mention, chuckling.

“Texas is making his rounds. I believe Charlee threw the cup he offered her at him. Gonna have to get one of the bunnies to come over and do some cleaning,” Gunner advises.

“It’ll do them some good to earn their keep off of their backside for once,” I remark. “They haven’t done any cleaning in some time. The club could use a good go over.”

“You saying I keep a dirty club, Powerhouse?”

“Not at all, pres. I’m saying you keep some dirty as fuck brothers.”

“Ain’t that the motherfucking truth of all truths,” Gunner grunts. “I’ll get Kruger to call them in to clean up.”

“Just saying,” Shamus interrupts us, “you may wanna wait to bring them over until the she-devils have chilled the fuck out. They’re all moody and irritable. I don’t think it’s a wise decision to bring the girls into their space. At least, not today.”

“Then I’m gonna need somewhere else to sleep until they’re brought in to clean shit up. My room smells like ass from Charlee’s temper tantrum,” Country snarks.

“Where’s my nephew?” Gunner asks, his brows raised into his hairline.

“Charlee ‘suggested’ I call Dawn and ask her to come over and watch the kids. Dawn was in a therapy session with Doc Shell, so she recommended one of the older girls, Maya, from their studio. She’s saving up money for college and Aspen approved of her. Said she’s a good girl whose parents are financially struggling. She’s taking odd jobs here and there to earn money for the dance company and schooling. Charlee told me to offer her triple the normal pay and the other women all jumped on board and offered the same if she’d take their kids too.”

“Shit. If she survives, I say the club sponsors her company tuition, costumes, and other shit. We could host a fundraiser to help her with college expenses,” I imply, putting it on the table for consideration.

“Can someone tell me why Texas is hiding in my bathroom?” Malice asks, frustration covering his face. “A man should be able to take a shit when he needs to without his toilet being held hostage.”

“Did he give Jessia his hangover remedy?” Gunner asks him.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Why?”

“Because the women weren’t receptive to it,” I surmise.

Malice chuckles before looking toward his room. “Are they revolting against him?”

“You might say that,” Gunner answers.

“Well, that changes things,” Malice calls out as he turns on his feet and heads to their room.

“What are you up to, Malice?” I ask.

“Got a man to lure away from my bathroom,” he answers over his shoulder. “This is gonna be fun.”

“Coffee, wench!” Salem whisper-shouts, demanding her brew.

“Wench?” Gun questions.

“Don’t ask,” I sigh, leaving my brothers to do my woman’s bidding.

Fuck my life. She’s going to keep things interesting for the rest of my breathing days.