Page 132 of Pucking Them
She cups my face, kissing me.
I sit back, pulling her against my side. She is warm and fits perfectly.
I feel an unusual contentment.
After the nights of swirling anxiety and insomnia, the intensity of the unsettling practice and games facing Wilder, the pressure of the press, and everything with my parents, this is exactly what I need.
“I also made something for our gathering.” Everett pulls a plate out from underneath his seat. “Mistress ordered me to wake up at dawn and bake. She said that it was only polite that I brought something special with me. The only problem is that baking isn’t…well…”
United we stare in silence at the chocolate, sticky mess on the plate.
I break the silence. “It’s the taste that counts, right?”
“I won’t be insulted if no one eats the cakes,” Everett hurries to say. “They may poison you.”
“Cakes?” Robyn blurts. “I thought that they were cookies.”
Axel muffles his laugh on the back of his hand. “You should see his attempts at cooking pancakes. Instead of being flat,theyend up as thick as cakes.”
Everett narrows his eyes at Axel. “You’re welcome to take over cooking and baking duties for the household.”
“No, thanks.” Axel strikes a pose. “I’m too busy looking this good.”
I valiantly take a cake. Thrill seeker, see?
“I’m sure that it’s…” I stuff the gooey cake into my mouth and then try not to gag.
Everett is watching me too closely for me to spit the mouthful out.
Anyway, D’Angelo has trained me to swallow and not spit.
I grab Robyn’s hand underneath the table. She gives me a sympathetic look. I swallow as fast as I can.
What the fuck did Everett put into that?Salt, rather than sugar?
“Is it all right?” Everett asks.
I do a thumbs up, swallowing as fast as I can. Then I take a quick gulp of tea.
When Cassian starts to reach for a cake, my eyes widen.
I honor Eden, by saving the Kitten. Hurriedly. I give a subtle shake of my head, and Cassian quickly drops his hand.
Now, that’s sub solidarity — saving a sub from cake poisoning.
“Okay, bitches, I didn’t turn up empty handed either.” Axel’s eyes glint with excitement. “This is our inaugural event of what will no doubt be a legendary club that will go down in history.”
“Just like the Bay Rebels,” Robyn declares.
“I’ll drink to that.” I raise my cup.
“I can make sure you do it with something better than tea.” Axel ducks under the table and pulls out a luxurious, heavy bottle of Vodka with a golden cap.
The bottle is a work of art, and not the type of thing that I’d see at a student party. The glass is frosted and inlaid with goldleaf.
Immediately, Everett stops smiling.
He launches himself to his feet and stalks around the table. “That belongs to Mistress. It is part of her special collection. It’s worth…I don’t even know how much. She will skin you alive when we get home.”
