He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into him even closer. “You think this is a fucking joke? You come to this place and you’re expected to open your fucking legs!”

“I’m not opening anything but a can of fuck you!” I snarled, fighting to take my hand back.

His eyes widened, and I thought for sure I’d be getting my ass handed to me. Instead, he looked at me with enlightened eyes and a small smirk. “I get what I want,” he simply stated. “And I want fresh meat.”

I looked for signs of help around me, but most of those around us were from his chapter and occupied in their own shit, and I highly doubted they’d want to get in the way of Edge anyhow.

“You aren’t getting anything,” I then said, determinedly keeping my voice as tight as possible. “I belong to Remy.”

God, I hated saying that, but it was the only way to get him to move on.

Now his smirk turned into a cocky grin. “Don’t be fucking stupid. Nobody belongs to Reaper.”

“Well, I do.”

We glared at one another for several long moments.

“Let go of her, Edge.”

Edge turned to Remy who came right at him with… a bag of cereal in his hand. “I’m not going to fuckin’ repeat myself, Edge.”

His brows shot up. “You serious? How many other pieces of pussies are there–”

“She’s my girl, you dipshit.”

“She’s your old lady?”

“She’s my girl.” Remy repeated through gritted teeth.

“But not your old lady.”

Well, this was awkward. What was the goddamn difference? If anything, I’d have preferred Remy call me his girl instead of his… old lady. That shit just sounded mean. Old? Old?! I’m young, dammit. I’ll be called old lady when I’m ninety, minimum.

But the way they were staring at each other over these two different words… you could cut the tension in the air with a damn butter knife.

“I am his old lady,” I snapped at Edge, glaring the most evil glare I could muster. “I just prefer to be called his girl.”

Edge suddenly looked disinterested. “Yeah, sure the fuck you are.” He let go of my arm, but still stood there, staring at Remy. “Since when have you gone solo? You used to stick it everywhere.”

God, why were men so damn crude?

“Since when have you ever thought you knew me at all?” Remy snapped. “Last I remember, you wanted nothing to do with me. So fuck off or get out.”

Ooh, there was nothing good between these two. Edge looked about ready to fight him, and suddenly everyone around us had caught the gist of what was going on. Silence impeded us.

“Sara,” Remy said, without taking his eyes off Edge, “go to our room. Now.”

Despite wanting to know where this was going, I hurried out of there. When Remy spoke to you in that no-bullshit tone, you damn straight better do as you’re told!

*****

As I lay in bed waiting for Remy, I attempted sleep, but it wouldn’t come. As usual, my tireless mind ventured off to Jaxon. Who was he in bed with right this moment? Was she beautiful? Did he love her? All poisonous questions based upon the awful reality that time changes people, especially when you’re not there to witness it. They could be meaningless little changes, ones that those close to you won’t pick up on because constantly being around someone dims your awareness of it. You evolve with the person, share in their change and grow together. But to outsiders, small accumulated changes can turn one being into a stranger. I was frightened this was happening to us.

I’d get an exasperating urge to call him. I still had his paper hidden in the pocket of the very same jeans. Of course I talked myself out of it every time. I’d gotten off the phone quite dramatically. Calling him up after so much time lapsed would be undoubtedly wrong and unfair on him.

But who put the paper in my pocket? That question eluded me. A Jackal had done it, as they were the only ones I’d been around. But who? And, more importantly, why?

The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. This made no sense. If someone here had intentionally helped Jaxon get a message across to me, what else had they done? I saw the faces of every Jackal in my mind that was there that day.

If I was the loyal type, I’d have told Remy. Told him there was a snitch here following orders from a Scorpion. That he needed to watch out in case something bad happened.

Ha, you’re a fucking idiot. As if you’d tell Remy anything that would antagonize Jaxon. This was true. I never intended on telling him because the order had been given from Jaxon. Because a part of me knew this was instrumental to him. And because a part of me didn’t want to sabotage this barrier of communication in case he ever wanted to speak to me again. The latter was obviously the weighted hope of a heartbroken woman who enjoyed dreaming.

I was caught in the middle. Should I be loyal to a man I’d never have? Or to the man that was here with me giving me all of him? I loved Jaxon. He’d been the constant in my life before I fucked it all up, but I was feeling something for Remy, too. Sure, the beginning hadn’t been right. I’d been forced in a room for four weeks with nobody but him. My dependency for him had been inevitable. In my heart I knew he’d intended for this to happen, yet I didn’t hate him for it. Because being here, he’d given me a family of people that actually seemed to care. He’d been nothing but patient and affectionate to me, and I in turn knew at this rate I’d find happiness in him.

Well, that was answer enough, wasn’t it?

You’re loyal to Remy now.

Interrupting my thoughts, the door opened. I watched Remy throw his shirt off before he climbed into bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off his tattooed torso. This beautiful man was a work of art; the intricate inked designs flowed together from a red dragon on his upper left chest to wispy looking branches that stretched to the other side of his chest that were bearing what looked like dates on the end. I wondered what those dates meant. Below the dates and starting right at his ribcage was the word HONOUR in bold letters.

It was refreshing to see he didn’t sport any of the tattoos the other men in the club did. No pin-up girls or skulls adorned his skin. He had the emblem of the Jackals, but it only covered up his upper back. His arms were bare of tattoos, and same with the rest of him. I got the impression he was a very picky guy, and whatever he inked on his skin meant something important to him. I wanted to know what it was.