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“Here I come, little losers!” Niles twists his body sideways, spinning in the air like a ballerina attached to a music box.
“House of cards,” Dessin reminds us.
The second he hits our interlocked arms, I wince at how much heavier he is than I would have imagined. We beam like drunk fools as we groan boisterously, swaying under his weight.
And Warrose just can’t help himself as he says, fighting a groan, “What’s the status of your current weight, Niles?” And we flatten to the stage like a house of cards.
Niles squirms on top of us, gasping and trying to form words. He rolls to his side to peer down at us with shock and disapproval. “Are you kidding me? Where’d all your showy muscles go? And we call ourselves an elite unit? The fuck happened?!”
“No one calls us an elite unit,” Dessin says.
“Niles, you’re crushing my arms,” Skylenna grunts.
Warrose and I have tears forming from laughing our asses off. My belly is clenched so hard, I’m in physical pain. Seeing Niles’s astonishment at our failure was one of the greatest rewards in life.
“You guys have all lost my trust,” Niles barks.
“We’ll live, fat ass,” Warrose counters.
Our perfect symphony of laughter is interrupted by a foreboding shadow shifting over us. His hulking posture is as chiseled as Dessin’s. But those scars covering his face and neck, those piercings, that beard. They couldn’t be farther from each other.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Kaspias purrs.
17. The Invitation
Dessin
I’m on my feet in a heartbeat.
The fun we created with the game has been drowned out by this… dead man. A maelstrom of emotions swirl like a cyclone inside my chest, feeding my clenching heart, pounding into my clenched fists and into my legs as I lunge toward him.
I’ll remove his head for what he’s done.
The world spins but not fast enough.
This action has replayed in my thoughts since Skylenna arrived in front of our cages, broken and soaked in her own blood. This violent idea has blossomed, twisted, morphed into its own obsession since she told me Kaspias beat her.
Kaspias beat my girl.
The territorial energy of a lion revs up my chest, curling back my lip, grumbling in my throat.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
My equilibrium tilts like a ship in a hurricane. But the action was already in place. The thought too powerful to intercede.
The hard knuckles along my fist make perfect contact, sharp and full of loaded aggression. They crack into something that makes a popping sound; I’m unable to see where along his face my hit landed due to the screen of blurriness casting across my vision.
“Argh!” A spray of ruby liquid shoots from his face.
And I’m falling, rolling across the ground in a gnawing pit of nausea.
Worth it.
A pair of cool, soft hands are stroking my back and arms. Golden hair tickles my face. Lilies and rainwater brush past my nose. She growls something, the words lost to me as I consider vomiting as far away from my girl as I can get.
“That wasn’t nice,” Kaspias grunts slowly, spitting out blood.
I blink with frustration, trying so hard to clear my brain of the fuzziness.
