“Good,” I say with a tired sigh.
“Now get up. If I have to put up with Zilo’s creepy niceness, then so do you.” He waves his hand in a circularlet’s get on with itsort of way.
My head hits the pillow, and I barely close my eyes for the briefest moment before a big hand is wrapped around my ankle. And then I’m being pulled.
“Dammit, Avian!” I’m jerked through the cold sheets all the way to the very edge of the bed where he pauses.
And then jerks once more.
My ass hits the hard floors without so much as a bounce.
I blink up at the man who I thought so highly of since the moment we met. “I thought you were the nice one,” I grumble, my words fanning the long blonde hair that’s tangled in front of my face.
A warm and delicious sound of amusement touches his lips, and I couldn’t be mad at him if I wanted to. And damn do I want to.
He lowers swiftly, balancing on the toes of his boots, and I can’t help the way my attention veers right down to the hard panes of his stomach that are now at eye level with me. He gets good and close.
His fingers lightly push my hair from my face, and I swear he has a third eye.
Shit, now that sounds dirty too.
I hold his pretty, steely eyes, and it’s intimate, the way he gazes at me with hardly any space lingering between us. Hishead dips low, and his smooth jaw skims mine as his mouth grazes the shell of my ear.
“Didn’t anyone warn you? None of us are nice, Cers,” he whispers like dark sex and delicious sin.
Then he’s on his feet in a matter of seconds. And my mouth’s still open as I stare after him.
Fuck.
TEN
THAT PANTY INTUITION
The voicesI hear when I step into what Avian calls the Formal Torture Room, are more mellow than I had expected from a place called theFormal Torture Room. Screaming? I suppose I expected a little screaming. Maybe some crying. A bit of begging added for dramatic flair.
But no, they really missed the mark when they originally titled this space.
“I’m not telling you what to do, Rome. I’m just suggesting, maybe from here on out, you don’t kiss the Prince’s property,” Zilo explains in a growling, therapeutic way.
When Avian and I enter quietly from the hall, the two of them are seated rather casually in black chairs that appear to have dried blood staining them. An array of fancy cutting knives lies between them on a metallic tray like a bit of forgotten decor. They’re unused, shining and clean. Ropes, chains, barbed wire and a weird collection of broom handles line the smooth walls.
The floors are damp and the heavy oder of stagnant water is tinged with a dirty copper smell.
“I appreciate that suggestion, my friend,” Roman taunts with a wide smile stretched wolfishly across his perfect white teeth sohard that he looks manic, “but have you thought about maybe not grinding your cock against the Prince’s property as well?”
A big fist slams down on the table between them, rattling the tempting knives briefly before Zilo catches his temper. The tips of his fingers flex, turning white as if he’s considering the weapons before him for only a moment. He eyes them for several passing seconds. He leans back instead while pushing away his long black hair, and that’s when I notice he’s wearing thinly wired black frames.
Glasses.He’s actually wearing glasses. And talking like a therapist…
What fucking realm of hell have I fallen into this morning?
“I did not grind my cock into her—it was—it was a misunderstanding,” he says on a calming but shaking exhale.
Avian arches a brow at me, but I ignore the little knowing bastard’s look and continue to watch quietly from the door.How does he sense me so well? Intuition or magic?
“So, I won’t kiss her, and you won’t…accidently misunderstand where your cock belongs?” Roman tilts his head to the side and waits smugly for his friend’s response.
Goddess, they’re insufferable to one another.
