Now that, that’s what fucking scares me.
What goes up … must come crashing all the way fucking down.
Crown is sitting on the couch in the living room when I finally emerge, elbows on his knees, fingers curled together. He’s leaned over, forehead resting against his joined hands. He lifts his head to glance over at me when I pause in the doorway.
I wonder what I look like to him right now.
He keeps his expression neutral and empty, and just a little bit scary.
“Don’t look at me like the Vice President of Death by Daybreak; look at me like a woman you requested a baby from.”
The asshole goes completely still, and his moss green eyes narrow slightly as he sits up fully, leaning back into the couch cushions. His gaze sweeps mine before he lets his attention swing toward the dark TV screen on the opposite side of the room.
“About that,” Crown starts, heaving a deep sigh. I ignore him, padding past and tossing my hair over my shoulder as I throw a withering look his way.
“You know what Beast said?” I query, raising a single brow and then smirking viciously at him. Crown just stares back at me, but if he isn’t going to answer my question then he can go fuck himself.
With a scoff of disgust, I turn back around and continue into the kitchen to find Reba and Grey seated across from one another. There are fast-food wrappers crumpled on the table, and Reba is sipping a drink from a straw.
Her green eyes widen when she sees me.
“Your neck,” she breathes, and I reach up a hand to touch the sore side of my neck as a slight smirk works its way across my lips. “Did he …” she starts, almost choking on the words. “Did Beast hurt you, Gidge?”
“Those are just hickeys,” Grey explains, and Reba’s entire face flushes. She makes a horrible face and shakes her head violently, wavy red hair flying.
“That’s disgusting,” she murmurs as I chuckle and slump into the seat between them, reaching out to drag the large white bag in the center of the table closer to me. There are a bunch of breakfast sandwiches wrapped up in waxy yellow paper, and—bonus for me—they’re still warm.
“Fuck yes. Sex is exhausting. I need to refuel.”
Reba groans and Grey smirks right back at me as I take a stack of sandwiches and pile them in front of me. There are some hashbrowns in there, too. Score. I shove one into my mouth whole and groan.
“Why would you want someone to suck on your neck until it bruises?” Reba whispers, clutching once again at her non-existent pearls. I almost laugh—because really, that’s funny as hell and the most virgin-like thing she’s ever said—but then I remember that I didn’t gather any of Reba’s belongings for her. Not even the pearls she inherited from her grandmother.
“I’m sorry about your necklace,” I murmur, putting a hand up to cover my mouth as I chew. “I’m so sorry.”
Her face softens slightly, and I know she understands what I’m really trying to say. It isn’t about the necklace; this is about everything else. Not only did I ruin her life and get her parents killed, but now she’s here, trapped on the compound like a prisoner.
I imagine that, when Grey goes, she’ll go with him.
That makes me so fucking sad.
I unwrap an egg and sausage sandwich and take a huge bite, so that I don’t have to say anything else.
“When someone sucks on your neck,” Grey begins in a teasing voice, leaning forward and splaying his fingers on the tabletop. “All the blood rushes to that spot. It makes you dizzy. It gives you goose bumps. It makes your cock hard—”
“Alright, alright,” Reba says as both Grey and I chuckle. She sets her drink down and holds up both hands in surrender. “I don’t need to hear any more than that. Sorry I even asked.” She lifts her chin in that imperious way of hers, and I smile.
Footsteps behind me send chills skittering down my spine.
Not Beast, Crown.
I don’t bother to look at him. I don’t even react when he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“You said you wanted to work?” he asks as I glance back to see him frowning harshly down at me. His eyes lift up to Grey, and I can see that he’s struggling to understand our easy companionship. Maybe he can’t understand how two people from rival groups can bond so quickly and so easily.
Everything Grey’s family stands for is at odds with everything that mine stands for.
But so what?
Two people don’t have to agree on every fucking thing to get along. There’s more to all of us than just opinions; there’s an inner core to each person that, if we try hard enough, we can usually connect to. Even if they disagree. Even if their views don’t match ours.
