Weaving through the sea of bodies to the bar, oblivious to the cacophony that was the norm for ZeroSum, I glanced over to VIP not at all surprised to see Rhage and Phury looking back at me. It seemed wherever I went, at least one of the brotherhood kept watch… a giant leather-clad gargoyle guarding their brother’s shellan. With a half-hearted smile I turned back to the bar, perching on a padded barstool and shouted my drink order over the thumping bass of the sound system, settling in for another night of wallowing in misery and whiskey, desperately wanting my hellren who had once again made himself scarce when my scent had changed heralding the onset of my fertile period.
Snorting I took a drink from the glass the bartender had set in front of me. Scarce was a fucking understatement. Once a month, Vishous refused to be anywhere near me, hightailing it for the mansion until it had passed and rather than staying in our bed alone I’d started coming here to steep the loneliness in John Jameson’s triple distilled until I was numb enough to pass out as soon as my head hit the pillow. But lately he’d been avoiding me more than usual. Brows knitted I stared into the glass of whiskey as if it would tell me what the fuck was going on…he hadn’t touched me in days. He still wanted me, I was sure of that and the obvious tent in his leathers when I bent down to feed Sox or when my towel slipped aside to bare a flash of thigh confirmed it. Though, instead of reaching for me, he’d looked pained and turned away, disappearing into the tunnel that led to the training center.
Without any real hope of an answer I’d gone to Butch, hoping he could shed some light on what had Vishous so determined to keep himself from me but, the cop had no answers, save that he knew something was eating at my hellren though he didn’t know what. True to his conditioning as one of Caldwell’s finest, he’d promised to find out; hazel eyes keenly taking in the hurt and confusion written all over my face.
That had been 3 days ago and I hadn’t seen V since, his absence had finally worn me down to a grim resolution…if he didn’t want young, we wouldn’t have any. I could live without children. I could not, however, live without him so I’d called the Women’s Center of St. Francis Hospital, making a consultation appointment to go over ligation procedures. The thought turned my stomach but I could see no other alternative.
Dropping the cash on the bar to cover my tab I nodded to Rhage and made my way outside the club, climbing into my truck and heading home. Parking next to the Escalade, I headed inside to what I knew would be an empty bedroom. I pulled the appointment card from my purse and stared at the date, the black embossed letters standing out like roaches on a wedding cake. With a heavy sigh I tucked the card into the drawer of the nightstand and shed my clothes, climbing into bed and curling around a thick pillow, pressing my face to its silk cover to take a deep breath, his scent calming me enough to drift into a fitful sleep.
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