I opened the door to find Cipher sprawled across my brother’s still-made bed, buck naked, well, except for his briefs, which were black and surprisingly… brief. The gun was laid across his chest, his hand over top of it with one sooty finger on the trigger. His other arm was splayed against the pillow, revealing a whorl of dark hair in his armpit. He was handsome, I hated to admit it, with a sharp jawline and broad shoulders, toned limbs that were slender but strong–I knew from our earlier encounter in the kitchen. He appeared to be of Asian descent with a strong browline that made him look grouchy even while sleeping.
Before passing out, he’d removed his artificial limb, which explained his leg-throwing habit, and where his right leg ended just above the knee, was a scarred, rounded nub, the healed flesh slightly puckered in places. His face and forearms were tanner than the rest of his body, while the skin normally covered by clothing was as pale as buttermilk. Both thighs were dusted with the same fine dark hair as his arms and his torso was mostly hairless, except for a line of silky black hair that led right to his—
“Like what you see?” he murmured, dark eyes blinking open to catch me observing him.
“No,” I said quickly and turned toward the dresser. There I found a baggie of what looked like tobacco, rolling papers, and another tiny plastic bag of white powder. “What’s this?” I asked and pointed to his stash.
“I thought I locked the door.”
“I picked it.”
“Do you always go creeping into other people’s bedrooms uninvited?” he said in that taunting, velvety tone.
“It’s not your bedroom, and it’s my friggin house.”
“Mind your manners, Kitten.”
“Screw you.”
He sat up and set the gun aside, though not very far, then went about attaching his leg. I watched him in the mirror as he smoothed a liner over his thigh like a sock, then fit the molded plastic to the rounded part, using a second sleeve to secure it in place. In better lighting, I noticed that his eyes were a dark, mahogany brown, not black as I’d originally thought, but still with a hardened quality that made him seem much older.
“Are you turned on yet?” he asked, reaching for his discarded t-shirt and dragging it over his head. His muscles rippled, abdominals tightening under his fair skin, and I wondered if he was showing off.
“No.”
“Too bad.”
I spun around and glared at him because what the heck was that supposed to mean? Wearing only his shirt and underwear, he leaned back against the pillows and spread his arms across the headboard like he owned the place. “What did you want, Kitten, if not to ogle me while I sleep?”
“I wasn’t…” I closed my mouth and tried again. “Artemis wanted me to wake you, and besides that…” I propped a folded piece of paper against my brother’s mirror, right next to his favorite baseball trading card so that it would be impossible for him to miss. The note was to tell him what had happened and where I was headed, along with the names and descriptions of my new companions in case I didn’t make it back. I went to my brother’s closet without looking at Cipher and dug around until I found his Gamecocks baseball hat. I planted it on my head, using the dresser mirror to tuck in my loose curls.
“Very pretty,” Cipher said in a mocking voice. “But what will you carry as a weapon?”
“I thought you were the weapon.” He certainly had enough of them.
He nodded as if indulging me. “True, but I can hardly be expected to protect all of you at once, can I?”
“Is that what you do? Protect us?”
“I try,” he said grimly, and the pain etched in his expression forced me to look away.
“I don’t have a weapon.”
“What about that soup pot?”
“Hardee har har,” I bit out.
“No guns in the house?” he asked, eyes sharpening with renewed interest.
“My dad had one, but my mom traded it for food.”
“What about ammo?”
“She traded that too.”
“That was short-sighted,” he said with a scowl.
“Yeah, well, starving is no fun either.”
