There’s a shriek and I jog the last bit of distance down the hall, shoving open the door without knocking. Grave and Elyse are sitting next to each other on his bed, the former down to a shirt and boxers. Their heads jerk up in my direction as another scream fills the room, leaving me stuck standing at the threshold looking like an absolute dumbass.
“The, uh-“ I stuff my hands in my pockets and clear my throat. “What movie are you guys watching?”
Grave snorts out a laugh, pushing himself up a bit more where he’s reclining against the headboard. He winces and Elyse instantly starts fussing over him, helping adjust the pillow under his leg and fix the ice pack that slipped off.
I roll my eyes. “Seriously, you big baby?”
Elyse frowns at me. “I mean, getting shot is kind of a big deal, Everett.”
She doesn’t see Grave’s beaming smile, subtly flipping me off and mouthingI told you so.
“The masochist is fine, Elyse. You don’t need to bother; he’ll live.”
Her brow furrows. “Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can’t help out. You guys took care of me while I was healing, so it’s only fair that I reciprocate.”
“Yeah, Ev,” Grave teases, getting comfortable. “So since no one is being murdered, you can go back to bed. I’m just enjoying the company until the painkillers kick in.”
Elysium climbs off of the bed and grabs an empty glass. “Or you can stay if you want,” she rushes out, moving to the attached bathroom and turning on the faucet.
I pause, knowing I’m reading too much into it, and catch the pillow Grave chucks at me before it can nail me in the face. “Told you I had a date later,” he whispers and I whip the pillow back at him, aiming for his bad leg.
“You’re manipulating her,” I accuse in a quiet hiss, angry at myself for letting him rile me up.
He sighs dramatically. “I manipulate everyone.” When I don’t respond he mutters, “Oh, for the love of…” and a second later he twists, snatching the gun off of his end table and barely taking time to aim before pulling the trigger.
Cursing up a storm, I slap a hand to my left shoulder, pain exploding from it. “Fuck! God damn it, you jackass!”
Elysium appears wide eyed in the doorway, frozen in surprise before a fierce determination morphs her face. She stomps over, ripping the gun away from Grave and getting in his face.
“What the hell are you doing?!” She gesticulates wildly and I cringe, crossing the room.
“An arm for a leg, it’s only fair,” Grave defends, unperturbed by the fact that he might catch another bullet tonight, eyes leisurely roving over her hostile form.
“Seriously?” I scoff. “At least throw a blanket over your lap.”
He winks, not bothering to hide how turned on the sight of an armed and angry Elyse makes him. She blushes when it’s clear her scolding is falling on deaf ears. Gently, I pry the gun from her fingers before she takes someone’s eye out, flipping on the safety and setting it on one of the bookshelves.
With a sharp inhale, I probe at the wound now that the immediate threat is taken care of. “Shit, I think it’s still in there.”
Elysium sighs. “I’m assuming you don’t want to go to the hospital either? Go sit on the bed, I’ll get the tweezers.”
Grave pats the bed beside him and I smack his thigh on my way down. “Son of a whore!” he hisses through clenched teeth, repositioning his ice pack.
“Do men ever stop acting like children?” She shakes her head in exasperation, clutching a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a washcloth. “You hit me, I’m hitting back,” she warns.
I don’t need a mirror to know how offended I look. “You really think I’d hurt you?”
She rolls her eyes. “This is going to sting like a bitch. Even Grave screamed into a pillow when I cleaned his, and I wasn’t searching around for a bullet at the time.”
“First no probing and now you’re spilling all of my secrets?” Grave clucks his tongue. “And I thought we had something special here.”
The corner of her lips twitch, his crazy ass coming across as more charming than fucking annoying to at least one living soul on this planet. “Play nice.”
“Always do, love.” He winks, tucking his hands behind his head and reclining back.
She turns to me, tugging at the neckline and sleeve of my shirt before giving up. “It’ll be easier if you strip.”
“Do it slow,” Grave whisper-shouts and I smack his stomach hard enough to leave a mark. He tugs up his shirt to inspect the damage, whistling with approval and prodding the bright red handprint. “That’s a keeper.”
