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Bang! Thigh.
Bang! Head.
“Fuck kid, now we won’t get any information out of him,” Blaize growls, stepping into my space.
“He wasn’t going to tell us shit Knox,” I spit.
“He was ours to deal with, you said it yourself!”
“That’s before they came for what’s mine! I want them, Blaize. I fucking want them all.”
I can feel my eyelid twitching and I notice something in Blaize’s eyes changing. I glance back and forth between the brothers and I’m acutely aware that there’s a shift in the way they are looking at me. They see the shift. It’s not about taking life, I do it all the time. But not like this. Out of control. Reckless. Emotional. Hungry.
This awful feeling sinks into the pit of my stomach, because it hits me that I simply don’t care. Some things in this life are worth abandoning every last shred of morality for. I’ll shred it all to keep them safe.
Chapter twenty-two
Zeke
I wake to sunlight streaming across my face, temporarily blinding me as I flutter my eyelids open. Lifting my arm, I move to stretch and searing pain shoots through my side. The pain a reminder that I was fucking shot. Biting down on my lip, I stifle the pained cry as I drop one arm over my bandages, and push myself up with the other.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I struggle to catch my breath as I sit upright. For a moment, I assess my surroundings, and realize quickly that I’m at Riot’s. But where’s Riot? And where’s Cole?
Sighing, I make my way slowly to the bathroom and flick the light on. The skin beneath my eyes is dark, my hair is matted to my head, and the bandages that are wrapped around my midsection are dark and bloodstained. I’ve certainly seen better days.
Groaning, I pull the mouthwash from the cabinet, fill my mouth, swish and spit, before steadying myself against the wall with one hand while I take piss. It feels like I’ve been run over by a truck, but I guess getting shot isn’t supposed to be a picnic in the park. Pressing my eyes closed, I try to recall if I saw a face, a feature, anything, but all of the events are still a blur. A haze of colors and muted sounds. The only thing I remember after feeling the bullet slice through my gut was the terror on Cole’s face as he hovered over me, fading into nothingness.
I finish up in the bathroom, and make my way out into the kitchen looking for Riot. Soft music is playing, which really isn’t Riot’s thing, and when I skim the apartment he’s nowhere to be found. What I do find though, is Cole in Riot’s kitchen swaying to music while he puts clean dishes away.
What the domesticated fuck?
“What time is it?” I croak out as I walk slowly into the kitchen.
Cole turns to face me as he slides the last plate into the cupboard, “Hey, are you okay? You shouldn’t be up.” Walking toward me, he moves to touch my bandages as if he were going to assess them but something stops him. Like maybe he was warring with himself over where our boundaries lie. He retracts his hand and places it awkwardly at his side. “Let me know what you need, anything.”
“I, just… I’m fine,” I press forward, moving into him and he backs up until he’s cornered where the two sides of the countertop meet. I’m acutely aware that I’m crowding his space, but I don’t need him thinking that I’m someone who needs to be taken care of; I can do what I need to do on my own. “I just need coffee,” our eyes meet as I reach up into the cabinet.
A sharp pain zips through my side again, and Cole presses his eyelids together, shaking his head as I flinch. Pushing forward, he has no qualms about crowding my space this time, “You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” he tilts his head to the side and leans in, “doctor’s orders.”
His minty breath feathers across my cheek, and I can feel my entire body flushing red, a little taken aback by the way he asserts himself.
Is it hot in here? It’s hot right? Nope, I’m not even wearing a shirt. Fuck.
With his eyes locked on mine, he reaches up into the cabinet, grabbing the first mug his fingertips touch. A clank fills the stillness as he sets the mug on the countertop, challenging me with his stare. His chest rises and falls slowly and as I reach down to take the mug from his grip, our fingers brush sending goosebumps scattering across his flesh. Creeping up his neck along with a flush of red from beneath the collar of his shirt, he wears his emotions on his skin, like I wear my tattoos.
The feeling stirs something inside of me and as my breathing picks up the pace, he parts his lips to speak, but closes them just as quickly. My attention is immediately drawn to the way his Adam's apple rises and falls as he swallows, and it does something to me. I’m effecting him, and the thought of it turns me the fuck on.
Cole parts his lips, his tongue sweeping across the plush bottom one, and I let myself wonder what it would be like to bite down on that lip. To suck it between mine and nibble gently as he whimpers into my mouth. I bet he tastes fucking delicious. Dripping with sweet sincerity and innocence.
A nearly inaudible gasp climbs up my throat at the thought, and I hope like hell he didn’t hear that. I’m pretty sure he did though, because a low hum escapes Cole’s lips and he leans in closer. My cock jerks to attention in response, grazing his goddamn hip.
Jesus fucking christ. What is happening to me? What is this? It’s the blood loss. That’s it. It’s making me fucking delusional.
Cole’s eyes go wide, his pupils devouring every last fragment of his hazel irises, and he sucks in a breath so sharply, it’s as though he’s desperate for every last particle of oxygen in the room. Snapping out of the trance, I clear my throat as I slide the mug off the counter and quickly give him my back.
“It’s not a strenuous activity to make a cup of coffee,” I hiss, popping the top of the coffee machine up and placing a new coffee pod inside. Making a big show of the ease in which I can make a cup of coffee, I slide the mug beneath the brewer and press the button. “See, easy fucking peasy.”
I don’t need his help.
