“Fine, I won’t.” Another hand dragged through his hair. “But do you need anything? Anything at all. Just say the word. Those fuckers are all dead now, but if you want to talk, or spar, or—shit I don’t know, start a group knitting project? Tell me, yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking about crocheting little dolls. I think they’dreallyhelp me recover.”
“I know you’re bullshitting me, but I am so fucking down. You can crochet a black cat, and I’ll make a golden retriever.”
I gave him a blank look.
“It’s us,” he insisted.
I snorted. “You’re definitely not a golden retriever. More like a ferret. A rabid one.”
His stare flattened, mouth in a hard line. “I’m a rabid ferret?”
“Yup.”
“I fucking hate you.”
I snickered.
He stood from the bench in a rush. “Do you want a hotdog? I want a hotdog.”
“That better not be a euphemism.”
“I’ll bring you one,” he offered, a little manic. I saw why a moment later when ChaCha strode into the room. Apparently he expected her to be more stabby with him over upsetting Jessia than me. She didn’t even glance his way though, fixing her attention on me, a pinch to her brow that made my chest tighten.
“Something’s off with Cobra.”
I was on my feet in an instant, my muscles protesting the sudden movement. I’d deal with any soreness later; now I ran out the door with ChaCha and Devil trailing me.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“Not a clue. I caught him burning shit, and that’s never a good sign.”
Inevershould have left him alone.
31
Cobra
Istood too close to the drum; it spat embers onto my jacket, skidding down the leather onto the trampled grass at my feet. This jacket had been through so much since the day I sewed my first patch to it that the spark didn’t even leave a mark. It had been with me through so many different kinds of hell that I’d lost count, through my own ordeals and my brothers’, through raids and rescues, leading me to that farm and the fierce-eyed woman who’d become my whole life.
If I hadn’t become a Knight, I never would have found Lynn. And if I hadn’t been abused and whored and fucked in the head, I never would have joined the Knights. Funny how life worked out.
I took a drag from my cigarette and tried to shut out the demons howling at me, the memories of that room in the block of flats so vivid that I could smell it, could hear wind whistlingthrough gaps around the window, could feel the violent press of hands to my body. But I got out of that place, and the piece of shit who hurt me, sold me, was dead. Tybalt just gave me the good news. He was fucking dead, and I could finally slam the door on that chapter of my life.
Or at least try to. So I’d been thinking, about a lot of shit actually. Hence the fire; it helped me think. Plus, it made my brothers uneasy and it was fun to mess with them.
Her scent hit me before I heard her hurried footsteps over the violent crackling of the fire. I kept my eyes on the flames, trying to burn out the image of her curled up on that stained, reeking mattress in the basement of the Alpha’s Bark. When she stopped beside me, I hooked my arm around her waist and pulled her against my side, needing her close, needing her scent in my lungs to burn away the reek of sexual violence.
“What’s wrong?” Lynn asked, resting her chin on my shoulder as she peered into my face.
I pulled more of her scent in through my nose, letting it overwhelm my senses. I picked up ChaCha’s and Devil’s scents too, and glared over Lynn’s shoulder at the busybodies. They took one look at me and scattered.
“ChaCha went to get you,” I guessed, returning my gaze to Lynn.
“She’s worried about you.” She paused, her eyes deep, dark. “So am I.”
“I’m alright.”
