“That’s—” I exhaled through my nose. All hope was lost with him. If not for me or our friends, he would have died from infection a thousand times by now. “It needs treatment.”
“Eh.” Zion shrugged and jerked his chin to Kali sneaking over to the cream closet. “She’s worse than me.”
“I am not,” she scoffed as she dug into our meager clothing supply. “These”—she motioned up and down her front, indicating the million of small cuts—“will heal in no time.”
“So what you’re saying is that I will have a pretty scar and you won’t.” Zion scratched his chest, his nails leaving bright red streaks in their wake, first across his pectorals, then below them.
A habit betraying his anxiousness he had never learned to get rid of.
“Zion.” I seized his wrist, gently squeezing the joint to draw his attention to me.
Things were different now. Eight months ago, everyone had looked after themselves, but now… Others had become my priority.
His expression flickered with uncertainty.
“I know.” I kissed his knuckles.
He flushed, and so did my chest. The man could kill with joy, torture with excitement, crawl to you with nothing but need, but the simplest expression of affection turned him into a puddle.
Stroking his jaw, careful not to move his injured limb inadvertently, I wiped off the smear of dust dulling the shade of his stubble. “I will take care of her. Can you?—”
“Find Conall?” He nuzzled my palm. “Yeah.” His lips skimmed my skin, the faint brush enough for tingles to spark in my nerves. “I’ll inform him.”
“You or your dick?” Dressed in a pair of black cotton leggings and a matching sleeveless top, Kali stomped over to us, carrying a pair of gray sweatpants. “Unless you plan to spell out the explanation with your cock, you better cover up.”
Zion’s grin flashed as quickly as he snatched the clothing from her. “Which would you like more?” Stuffing his legs into the pair of pants, he drawled, “If I remember correctly, your pussy loves it when I spell my name together with my thrusts.”
Her blush rivaled the minuscule cuts marring her body. But then her chin lifted, like any time she was about to spit fire.
“We’ll see if your ass likes it whenhe”—she stabbed a finger at me—“fucksyou.”
“Can’t wait.” He secured the strings of his sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, so low I wanted nothing more than to rip the clothing off him. Grabbing his well-worn boots off the floor, he kicked the door open, threw over his shoulder,“Fuck you later!” and vanished in the gloom obscuring the veranda.
Our car’s engine rumbled, but the thrum dwindled away as Zion flew down the road, his driving skills always of a questionable kind.
Kali plopped down onto the couch the shade of stone. “Will you ever actually fuck him?” She wiggled her left foot into a gray sock, and then set on cramming in the right one.
Marching to the bathroom, I asked, “Do you want me to?”
Incomprehensible mumbles reached me through the doorway as I located the first aid supplies in the mirrored cabinet above the sink. Dark blue tiles chilled my soles as I made my way back?—
And froze in the doorway.
Kneeling on the couch, Kali was driving her hips into an indigo cushion pressed against the backrest in a nonsensical rhythm. Her glutes clenched as she varied the speed, the thrusts growing strong enough for the couch to start rocking.
The entrance door swayed from a gust of wind, and the creaking hinges plucked me out of a haze of bafflement. “What are you doing?”
She adjusted the cushion’s position. “Imagining it.” Widening her legs, she resumed humping the furniture. “Fucking someone.”
Chuckling at her little pants of exertion, I strode toward her, my footfalls inaudible, and smacked her hip. Her gasp of indignation was worthy of admiration.
And so was the contented little sigh when I kissed her forehead. “That’s not how you do it.”
“Then show me.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I want to watch you and Zion.”
The angry marks soiling her throat stirred my fury, and I seized the too-colorful cushion trapped between her pelvis and the backrest.
Opening the first aid supplies, I jerked my chin toward the center of the couch. “Sit.”
