Queen of Death

Chapter 6

Happy belated Hanukah and Merry early Christmas. Wishing you a stress free holiday with those you hold dear.
❤️
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Elias

It's easy to be angry at Solana, easy to feel betrayed and hurt. But it's near impossible to stay angry with her. Things would be so much easier if I could tell that her recent behavior is all an act, and find a way to explain why I'm fighting with myself by the hour. But she's never been more genuine than the last three days.

I'm almost inventing reasons to be mad at her at this point. It started obviously with her lying about being Nightshade. When I couldn't hold on to that, then I was mad that Ace and Hunter are acting like sister wives with her. They sleep with her every night now, no hostility between them, like it's the most normal thing in the world for two mates to welcome a lover into their bed.

Now I'm just mad at how there's nothing rational to be mad at her about. That seems to have stuck.

It's better this way. Whether she leaves us or gets killed, being mad at her will keep me at a safe enough distance from her that I won't end up like Tate, who has succumbed like Ace and Hunter to her charms.

I can be cordial and do my job without needing to get attached. Rules to live by: never go all in on anything. Always have one foot in the door of the emergency exit. Even as much as I love the guys, if I needed to leave the pack I would.

That's life, right? You win some, you lose some. Living in the middle, in the flux, half in and half out, life seems to find a balance. I'd rather be content with neutral than risk going all in on happiness only to land on rock bottom again.

Today there's no avoiding her. She's decided to swim endless laps in the average size pool here at the house. Before that she had been doing an entire circuit of exercises — push ups, sit ups, lunges, box jumps. All of these in her distressingly small bikini.

Her breasts must be breaking the weight limit of the strings attached to the triangles of fabric barely covering her. I'm surprised nothing has given way and snapped off like a cable on a tension bridge.

Her bikini bottoms are no better. The fabric slips off her ass, bunching in the center when she would squat down and raise back up. She wouldn't fix it until her set was done which allowed me to sit here and be mad at her for being so painfully beautiful and irritatingly indifferent about the effect she has on everyone she meets.

"Enjoying the view?" Dean's smirk is all too knowing.

"Just another day in paradise," I say sardonically.

He huffs out a short laugh. "What are you pretending to be mad at her for today?"

"I'm not pretending," I mutter defensively. "She's been lying about a pretty fundamental part of herself with sociopathic ease. Who knows, this could all be an elaborate ruse. How long before she flips the script on us again?"

He cocks a brow at me, "on us? Or on you?"

"Just because you all have decided to look past her lies doesn't mean I'm pretending."

He levels me with an unconvinced look. "Eli, you may be upset and frustrated and justifiably confused, but you're not mad. Not at her at least."

Fucking Dean. It's like living with a human lie detector — well, not entirely human. Death may not have any secrets but between his gift and Ace's alpha genes, Death has no privacy either.

Dean grabs a towel and stands at the edge of the pool waiting for her to turn and swim back towards him. She must see him, or sense him, because instead of flipping around and continuing to swim laps, she comes up for air and rests her arms on the deck of the pool. Dean squats down to speak to her, "why don't we get you out of the pool. Tate is on his way back and Ace wants a pack meeting immediately."