“Let me get my medical kit,” Blake grumbled, stalking toward my kitchen like a man on a mission to save the world one antiseptic wipe at a time.
“Faith.” Ryker stepped directly in front of me.
Our eyes locked.
His softened, that hard edge melting into something warmer, more intimate.
Or maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see instead of what was actually there.
“See?” Axel’s voice cut through the moment like a chain saw through butter. “This is exactly why Blake was kicking your ass. Stop gaze-sexting Faith, Counselor. It’s creepy.”
Ryker shot him a death glare. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Not even in my sleep. Ask Dakota.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed heavily. I knew they were probably right; I probably needed to move somewhere else, temporarily at least. But before we got the chance to discuss it more, Axel pushed off my doorframe.
“Wait!” Every set of eyes snapped to Axel’s suddenly widened gaze of pure horror, his finger pointing toward the floor like he’d spotted the apocalypse itself.
“What in the holy fuckery isthat?”
42
FAITH
Axel’s entire face went through a journey. Confusion. Horror. More confusion. A touch of fear.
I followed the line of his finger to the ground.
Rainbow, bless her crooked little heart, chose that moment to come and sit by his feet. Well, sort of sit. Her back legs splayed at odd angles while her front paws did this weird paddle thing in the air.
“It’s a dog,” I said, scooping her up protectively.
“The hell it is.” Axel’s nose wrinkled like he’d just caught a whiff of expired milk. “That’s some kind of mutant. Did it escape from a lab? Should I call animal control? The CDC?”
From behind Axel, I caught sight of Ryker leaning against the wall, clearly enjoying the show.
“She is not a mutant,” I said, clutching Rainbow tighter. She responded by licking my chin with a tongue that was, admittedly, a bit too long for her mouth. “She’s a mixed breed. I think she’s a cross between a Chihuahua and a?—”
“A gremlin that someone fed after midnight,” Axel interrupted, still keeping a safe distance. “Or maybe a possum that went through a garbage disposal and lived to tell the tale.”
“I was going to say hairless terrier.”
“Dude, that is not a Chihuahua mixed with terrier.” He gestured wildly at Rainbow, who had now twisted in my arms to stare at him with her unique eyes. “Pretty sure it’s not even technically canine. Have you had its DNA tested? Because there’s something seriously wrong with it. Like, genetically. Evolutionary. Possibly spiritually.”
“She’s absolutely perfect the way she is.”
“She looks like she’s been microwaved.”
I gasped. Rainbow’s ears—one pointed up, one flopped down—twitched indignantly.
“She does not!”
“Her eyeballs are two different sizes.” Axel squinted, leaning slightly closer but still maintaining his distance like Rainbow might be contagious. “One’s looking at me, and I’m pretty sure the other one’s checking out your neighbor’s yard.”
“Those are character traits.”
“Character traits?” Axel’s voice pitched higher. “She looks like her body couldn’t decide how many legs to grow and begrudgingly settled on four and a half.”
