She leaned back, studying all of us with a wicked little spark in her eye.
“So... you want me to pick one of you to help undress me?” she said sweetly.
Slade suddenly found the wall fascinating.
Phoenix stared very hard at the floor.
Leo just smirked, clearly enjoying the hell out of it.
I met her gaze, steady. “Go on, then. Pick someone.” I goaded her.
“You think I won’t?” she challenged.
“I think you’re all talk, little shadow. Time to step up.” I said, low.
That devious smirk curved her mouth.
“Fine. I will.” She straightened, pointing at each of us with exaggerated care.
“Eenie, meenie, miney... mo.” Her finger landed squarely on me.
I stiffened. “Why me?”
She grinned, wicked and unrepentant. “Because out of all of you, you’ll hate it the most.”
Leo burst out laughing. I shot him a look that could have flayed skin. He just doubled over, wheezing, completely unbothered.
“Fine.” I clipped out, dragging her arm into the nearby bathroom.
“Thorne…” Phoenix started, cautious.
I snapped my head toward him. “You heard her. She picked me.”
I slammed the door behind us and pulled my blade free from my scabbard with a sharp metallic rasp.
For the first time, Elira looked nervous.
“Ok, psycho…” she muttered. She took a wary step back, hands instinctively lifting as if to ward me off. “Uh... what exactly are you planning to do with that?” she asked, her voice pitched a little higher than usual.
I narrowed my eyes at the dozens of tiny, hidden stitches threading the gown to her. “Relax, little shadow. I’m not going to gut you.” I said dryly.
I stepped forward, lifting a piece of the gown’s side seam between two fingers. “I’m cutting you out.”
She eyed the blade like it might bite her anyway. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I leaned in close, just enough to watch her flush. “Maybe a little, if only to watch you squirm.”
She shivered, involuntarily. I shifted to hide the growing tent in my pants.
The blade slid carefully between the stitches, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her skin underneath. She fidgeted nervously, barely breathing.
“Hold still,” I muttered, focusing. “Unless you want me to slip.”
“I’ll slip you,” she grumbled under her breath.
I smirked despite myself, keeping my hand steady as I worked my way up the seam.
Every small, tense inhale she took made it worse. Mademeworse.
