Zayne hums, no conviction in the sound, or life behind it. Sinn'ous doesn’t take it personally, if anything it would be worse if Zayne showed emotion, that would mean he’s getting a disingenuous reaction. A faked response in an act at playing normal interactions.
Emotionless equals Zayne in his comfort zone, and trusting who he is with. Or it’s when he’s standing over a victim. Either one displays his—what does he call it? Histrue self?
“That’s not my only ask. I need you to stick around, make sure he stays put until I get out.”
“I’m not a babysitter.” Zayne’s flat voice could swing either way, but he’s sure if he didn’t want to, or the ask pissed him off, he would voice it. So it’s safe to assume he will do it.
Sinn'ous isn’t even sure if Zayne gets pissed off. He’s never seen his brother display any form of high emotion, not even anger.
“I saved your life, if you recall. Consider it a holiday house, I’m sure you can find things to keep you occupied in the meantime.”
“I havejobshere.” Zayne mocks the term Sinn'ous uses, in a flat way that borders on a deadpanned tone. And runs his eyes over the room, scanning like you would in a store. Picking what to buy, what you want to sink your teeth into—or knives in his brother’s case.
Eventually Zayne gives up a reply. “I’ll keep an eye on him. He’ll be alive when you get out.” Zayne’s flat gaze flickers back. “When is that?”
“Two months, give or take. I’ll owe you one.” Sinn'ous slaps on before any minds can be changed.
“Two.” Zayne stretches in the seat, rolling his shoulders back, rotating his neck from side to side. “One for each month. I like them screaming.”
Sinn'ous lets his own smile flash. Trust Zayne to want two people to kill as payment for a babysitting job.
“Sure. I’ll even do you one better and let you pick them.”
Zayne’s expression turns cold, darkening his eyes to the point where Sinn'ous can see Hell in them. See Satan looking in on Zayne’s soul.
“Next you’ll be telling me I have to hunt them myself.”
“Isn’t that the only way.” Sinn'ous watches Zayne’s eyes spark, a fire lit at the mention of death.
“Always.”
59
SINN'OUS
“I choose if we fuck, yes?” The question comes out of nowhere. His boy’s words oddly strong and unwavering in their resolve .
Sinn'ous had been mildly curious why Izz initiated an invite to the table he’d been seated on in the Rec-Room. A card game with Reni’s clique set out over the scuffed surface. He’d gone when beckoned, drawn in by a desire to see what angle Izz was playing at. Unbeknown to the rest of the table’s occupants, until he sat, and the tension sparked into an ice-cold wave of dread.
And now, couple by his boy’s words, he’s more than mildly curious.
The collective hitch of breath doesn’t distract from his unwavering focus on Izz. It’s a fight in dominance against himself to steel his expression to give nothing away.
“You do,” Sinn'ous confirms.
“You’d protect me? Even if I told you right now that I don’t want to fuck, ever again.”
His carefully calibrated mask slips, and a genuine half smile cracks over it. It’s the barest of twitches in his lips, and he’s sure Izz hadn’t seen it.
He can see though. See what his boy is doing. The game that they are now playing.
Leaning back in the flimsy chair, he brushes his leg against his boy, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would I be so shallow as to exchange sex for protection. Only a naive fool would think that way.”
Izz doesn’t appear able to control his amusement. Waggling his eyebrows at the collection of men sitting around the table. Allof whom have comically wide eyes. Their reactions are boring, uninteresting. He didn’t come here for anyone but Izz. And it’s high time he got back to his purpose of retrieving his boy.
“As much as this consent conversation has been thrilling,” Sinn'ous states dryly. “I’m getting food. You coming.” He’s not asking and his boy better know not to push him on this.
Sinn'ous rises to his full height, and is followed closely by his boy. Good. He’d hate to have to remind Izz of his status. Not when the trust he is building is so fragile.
