Max groans. “It’s really not that big,” he says, his voice reassuring. “Around an inch.”
“That explains a lot,” Bastien murmurs smoothly. I bite back an unexpected laugh at their banter, and Luc glares at his brother over my shoulder, tightening his grip as my body shakes.
Max smooths something cold over my skin, and I feel the edge of the scalpel. I tense, and Luc’s arm tightens.
“Steady,” he murmurs as Max begins cutting. The sting is intense, but it’s bearable.
Max hesitates, and I try to move my head. “What is it?”
“I can see it,” he says slowly. “But I’m going to need to dig it out. It’s a little deeper than I expected.”
I close my eyes. Of course it is.
Fucking Stone.
“Just do it,” I rasp. A white-hot pain stabs in my shoulder as Max digs out the tracker, and Luc holds me steady as I flinch.
“Son of abitch,” I curse, and Luc huffs a laugh.
“You have a mouth like a sailor,” he tells me, and I hiss at him. “You try having a poker shoved into your shoulder—”
“What’s your favorite food?” he interrupts, and the sudden change is enough to distract me.
“My – my favorite food?”
“Yep,” he grits out. I feel warmth dripping down my bare shoulder. The sensation makes me sway, nausea rising up my gut.
Luc squeezes me. “Don’t make me bark at you.”
I snap my teeth at him. Like a dog. The asshole laughs at me.
“You’re insufferable,” I snarl.
“I know. And you have a hell of a temper for an omega. Now tell me what you like to eat. Or what you like to do.”
“I like—,” a stab of pain pulls a whine to the back of my throat, “—sitting in my cage and doing what I’m told.”
He squeezes my throat, just a little, and lets loose a low growl that vibrates against my back. “Brat. That’s not even funny. Be serious.”
God, this pain. How is this so fucking painful? Remind me never to be heroic ever again. Next time, I’ll take my chances and wait for an anaesthetic to kick in.
Max digs in a little further, and my back arches. Luc pulls me in with a curse.
“Focus, Ava,” he growls at me.
“Are you freaking serious right now?” I half shriek, half moan.
“Yes, I’m serious. I want to know more about you.”
“Small talk is vastly overrated.”
I can feel the asshole smirking. His breath dusts my ear as he lowers his voice.
“You’re nearly done. Now tell me.”
He’s like a dog with a fucking bone.
“Fine,” I spit. “Strawberries.”
