I try to shake it off and breathe away the flicking drip in my throat, but the heavy scent coming off Bunny is numbing my brain. It’s encouraging me to slip.
“Here, maybe I-”
“Don’t touch her,” I turn her away from his outstretched hands, my eyes burning hot in my skull.
Placating with a surrender, he takes a step back, thinning his lips with a nod. “I’m just tryin’ to help, Raze. This is real fucked and we’re already playin’ with fire. We’ve been doin’ good, man. You want Bunny to do good, right?”
I nod absently, feeling myself hold her even tighter to my chest.
Flashing me a performative smile, he nods some more and starts dusting his palms together. “Yeah, yeah. See? We’ll make sure she’s good. But that includes you bein’ good. And you don’t seem to be doin’ too good in here. So, we’ll get some distractions goin’, clear the coast, and you get her home before she wakes up. Cakewalk.”
Nodding in agreement, realization punches another round of anger through me and my neck stiffens.
We didn’t get the chance to check for cameras before Bunny hopped away. But it’s probably too fucking late to even worry about that. If there are cameras, they’ve already seen it all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
BUNNY
Panic electrocutes my body, pulling me from a vibrating darkness. The first thing I’m able to digest is the sun swallowing my room, then the crackling in my nerves tingle from a touch, centering my hazy focus on Razor cleaning between my fingers with a wet washcloth.
Carefully finishing his wipe, he glances up and dunks the washcloth in the bowl between his crouched legs. “Welcome back, stargirl.”
Pressure envelops my head, trying to sit up.
“Easy.” Dropping the washcloth, he slips a hand around my back, helping to guide me upright.
I almost ask what happened. But the moment my lips part for the question, the distant memory slams to the front of my mind.
Sucking in air, paranoia pins my eyes wide. “Um… Did I-”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“What?” Shifting toward him too hard, my head circulates, simulating the cold drop of bleeding out. “Th-that’s not fine, Razor.”
Shrugging, he studies my hair. “Don’t worry about it.”
I guess making the decision that my hair is a mess, he slips a finger into the closest hair tie and tugs my bun loose.
Ignoring it, my face hardens. “Why would I not worry about killing three people and…” My stomach knots, purging a flash of iron over my tongue. “Why did Xene do that? That’s not a normal reaction to getting blood on your hand.”
Pulling the other bun free, he stretches my hair ties around his wrist and starts combing his fingers through my tangled hair, looking way too calm for how alarming it is to see someone like the taste of a stranger.
Razor drawing blood and cleaning it off me is different. That’s intimate. But Xene moaning and enjoying the vein juice from a dead body is not right. That’s not normal. And I’m not going to forget about it.
“How ‘bout we stay in tonight?” Razor offers, languidly raking my hair around my shoulder. “Leave the Globe to the guys, stay here, and-”
“Answer me,” I demand.
Although a sickening rage is crawling up my chest, salt is entering the wounds of being ostracized and making my eyes water.
“Bun…” Softening his face, he inches closer, placating himself by playing with my hair. “It’s not easy to.”
It’s not easy to.
Tears roll over my waterlines, running free down my cheeks. “If it’s not easy to tell me. Can you show me?”
Thinking silently, the air feels a little denser the longer he takes to respond. But he finally gives me a curt nod, and it’s, like, a breeze rushes through the room, lifting my skin just enough to breathe.
