“You should have seen your face,” Riot teases.
Has he lost his mind?
Angel snarls a deep, feral sound.
She snarls back, but then her snarl turns to a laugh. Riot…joins her.
Are they…playing? I exchange a wide-eyed look with Wrath. Angel is normally the most hostile and violent of the five of us, but Riot gives him a run for his money. He is deadly and serious most of the time. I haven’t seen him smile in years, but he’s smiling now. He’s laughing now.
I open the bag so I don’t have to watch anymore and find a snow-white jacket. Men's boots, thick socks, and a scarf that is red and white. My throat tightens.
“There’s one for each of us,” Riot whispers and points to the door where, sure enough, there are four more bags lined up. She’s wandered outside, taking that cloying menthol scent with her.
“We can’t trust her,” I say under my breath.
“No,” he agrees. “But maybe she won’t be as bad as some of the others. Perhaps this could be a place to rest and regroup.”
I don’t want to get my hopes up.
It’s almost dusk when she finishes in the kitchen. I’m almost feeling guilty about what we did to her last night. Almost.
When I see the meal she’s prepared, that pang comes back to life real quick.
She looks at the plates and blushes. “I don’t have a table big enough. I normally just sit on the couch. If you’d all care to join me?”
Riot grabs a plate and glares at us as if daring us to say something. I want to smack him in the head and ask who he even is right now.
“Sure.” I pick up my plate and follow them in. I glance at Angel and see him pick up his plate. I know he won’t eat it.
She gets settled in the corner furthest away from him, and Riot sits right next to her. I’m going to have to have words with him. This behaviour is bizarre. Perhaps he’s doing it to distract her.
I need five minutes alone.
She picks up a remote, clicks it, and the huge watercolour painting turns into a TV.
“No way.” Hazard edges closer, staring up at it.
She throws him the remote; he snags it out of mid-air, looking like he’s won the lottery.
“Whatever you want to watch. Go to town.”
Hazard picks some stupid comedy and sets about eating with single-minded intensity. At the end, Casey gets up, picking up our plates. She returns a half an hour later balancing six bowls in her arms and starts handing them out, then sits down with hers and a smile that makes me hate her.
I stare at the ice-cream and pudding. “What’s this going to cost?” If I could take back any words, it would be these.
She stiffens. “Excuse me?”
“Who do you want in your bed tonight?” I ask bitterly.
She shifts on the couch until her feet are planted on the floor, and she can see me. “Say that to me again, real slowly, Khaos. So I understand.”
Riot makes a hand gesture, but I ignore him.
“Who do you want in your bed tonight? That’s why you did this, isn’t it?” I look around me. My pack is resigned; we know the drill.
“I see. I get it now. Yeah. Okay.” She stands up and walks out of the room, only to return a minute later and throw her bowl at my head. “Asshole.”
I roar and charge after her. She turns in mid-stride and slams a hand against my chest. Pudding and ice-cream drips off me, but neither of us cares.
