Cash grabbed the clothes from the bed, leather and silk twisted around his fingers, and stalked over to give the adjourning door a perfunctory rap of his knuckles. He didn’t wait for an answer before he shoved it open… or tried to. Cash jarred his arm as his weight rattled the black wood but didn’t shift it.
It was locked.
The door hadn’t been locked in years. Cashcouldn’tdo it, and Arkady, after the first few snarky comments about light-fingered charity cases, hadn’t wanted to.
Until now.
The heavy, sour tug of rejection and frustration sank through him. His monster smacked its lips over the tang of it and its stomach rumbled. He’d need to feed soon.
First, though, he wasn’t going to have this.
“Jackass.”
He kicked the door. The impact probably jarred his foot more than the solid slab of wood. From the other side, the silence was pointed. Arkady was in there, a mouthful of old grudges between his teeth and his cock in his hand.
Fine. Cash bundled the clothes under his arm and stalked back to the door. He yanked it open and nearly walked into the sad-sack drooping bag of bones. The ghost hung limply from the jamb, a clammy chill sticking to it like sweat, and extended a handful of tiny dead eyes to blink at him.
“If you aren’t going to use the bed—” It wheezed. “—it’s cold up there, and if he finds me. Oh, if he finds me.”
“Fine,” Cash said as he side-stepped the fluttery lung. A human could have just stepped through it, even if it saw some shadow of the real thing, but not always best if you were a monster. Sometimes the ghosts could get… stuck places you didn’t want them. Under arms, between your ribs, and one satyr Cash knew had sworn up and down he had a haunted testicle. Just the one. “Make yourself at home.”
The ghost curled sullenly in on itself. “It is my home,” it sulked, before it splatted to the ground and dragged itself over the floor. The collection of rodent ghost eyes it had put together slipped from its fingers and dissolved.
Cash slammed the door, took two steps down the hall, and shoved open the main doors to Arkady’s rooms. The indulged son of monster aristocracy, with an army of well-paid cleaners on staff to pick up after him, he never remembered to lock his door. Arkady was sprawled out on the bed, barefoot and half undressed, with his eyes closed and a snifter of brandy balanced on his chest.
“Congratulations,” Cash snarked. “I had to walk and open two doors instead of one to get in here. My lesson is learned.”
“Maybe I just like you sweaty,” Arkady said without opening his eyes.
“It’s a couple of yards,” Cash said. “I’m not sweating.”
“Not yet.”
Cash swallowed the hot honey-scratch of interest that dried his mouth. He crossed the room and tossed the bundle of clothes at Arkady, who swore and jerked upright as the brandy spilled over him.
“I’m not wearing that,” Cash said. “Why the hell do you even still have it? I chucked it in the trash.”
Arkady scowled as he peeled wet silk off his chest and tossed it aside. He dragged his hand down his chest to wipe away the amber glaze of brandy.
“You threw a lot of things away that year. I thought you might still valuesomeof them.” His lip curled in a sneer as he flicked drops of liquor from his fingers. “If nothing else, Yana certainly seemed to appreciate the way you looked in—”
“Oh, shut up,” Cash said.
It actually shut Arkady up for a moment. Cash had always gotten away with more than anyone else, his smart mouth tolerated because Arkady liked his pretty face, but even he usually stuck to sarcasm and snide asides.No onespoke to Abascals like he just had.
Arkady stared at him, all sticky skin and “what the fuck” expression. He’d just pulled himself together enough to scowl when Cash started to strip. He pulled the shirt over his head, collar tight as it scraped over his ears, and dropped it to the ground. It felt oddly… vulnerable. The skin between his shoulder blades itched and tightened with self-consciousness.
A decade wasn’t long for a monster in their prime, but it was a long time since Arkady had seen him naked. Cash had been lean and angry back then, all taut muscle and carelessness. Now he was a single dad who ate leftovers from the spirits’ table at work more often than not.
Under his bones the monster squirmed in irritation that he’d got to that line first.
“What are you doing?” Arkady asked. The frown lingered on his face as he watched Cash kick off his boots.
Denim slid low around Cash’s hips as he unbuttoned his jeans. He paused there and cocked his head to the side.
“If you don’t know, then it’s been too long for one of us, anyhow,” he said dryly. “How long agowasthe divorce?”
Arkady snorted and licked brandy from the palm of his hand. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and reached out to hook his fingers in Cash’s waistband, his knuckles damp and cold against Cash’s stomach as he pulled him a step closer to the bed. “I thought we were going to have a fight.”
