Page 67 of Twisted Little Game

“The rain keeps the boys out of trouble, Romashka,” you said softly, winking at me and reaching over to squeeze my hand, balled into a fist.

I was so surprised that you said it in English.

Were you trying to assure me that at least for that day, perhaps there wouldn’t be more bloodshed… or retaliation? Maybe everyone stays home when it rains, yes?

It wasn’t the truth. But you still comforted me.

You were the only one who ever tried.

Still with me, every day, Mama

—Romashka

I shove the journal back into my desk and head downstairs.

I see Tate in the kitchen with Rayne.

Both of them are wearing black aprons covered in flour.

Tate is shirtless beneath it, and his pecs and nipples are out on display beside the apron’s long straps. He’s also in his black backwards hat, and I can’t even look at him without thinking of coming.

“What is this?” I ask, gesturing at four different bags of powder on the kitchen counter as the two of them mix up some kind of batter.

“Protein powder.”

I stare at him. “Four bags of protein powder?”

He shakes his head, licking the back of a spoon. “Flour, tapioca, and two different kinds of protein powder.”

I scrunch up my face. “You know what has good protein?”

“Cum!” I hear Oliver’s voice shout from beyond the open window, in the backyard.

“Steak,” I say. “You don’t need flour and powder and all of this bullshit.”

“But we’re making a high-protein cake,” Rayne tells me. “You can’t put steak in a cake.”

“Do you kind of want to blow your brains out right now, Roman?” Hunter asks from where he’s sitting at the dining table. “Because I do. I love you so fucking much, Rayne, but I’m on Roman’s side for this one.”

Rayne blows his boyfriend a kiss.

I watch Tate as he adds some sort of strawberry pudding thing into the big bowl of batter. As he adds it, a bit of it splashes up onto him, flecks of pink landing on his skin.

I reach out my finger and drag it slowly over a streak of pudding that landed on his nipple, watching it harden from the touch. I stare down at Tate, licking my finger.

“That tastes good,” I mutter. “Just leave it at that. No cake necessary.”

“You’re going to love this cake,” Tate tells me. “I promise. Now can you fuck off so Rayne and I can bake in peace?”

Tate’s giving me a devilish grin.

I pinch the side of his abs hard, and he smacks my hand away.

“Hunter,” I call out, nodding at him over at the table. “You have a moment?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

I motion at him to come join me, and he follows me into the front room, out of earshot from the other guys. We sit down on the sofa.