Page 86 of Monstrous Serpent

“Why?”

“Enough with the games. Unblock it.”

“Fine, whatever.” I pull out my phone, unlock it, then tap on his name.

His eyes narrow. “What the fuck?”

I smirk. “You don’t like it.”

Trembley stands and looks over my shoulder as he tucks himself away. “Temu Slenderman. Holy fucking shit.”

He looks at Kincaid and laughs so hard his face turns red.

I mean, yeah, it's funny. But not that funny.

“I'm telling everyone. Little Jenkins, don't you dare change it.” Trembley grabs my phone and adds his number. “No blocking me either.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

Another bark, louder this time.

I snatch my phone back, tucking it into my pocket. I open the door Blue’s scratching at, and he bounds out, running circles around the couch.

Great. Zoomies.

Just what I need right now.

I look at Trembley. “Where’s his leash?”

He rubs the back of his neck as he scans the room. “Um, somewhere here.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Kincaid stalks into the second room and comes back a moment later, handing me the black leash.

After clipping it to Blue's collar, I check for my keys and head for the door.

Kincaid and Trembley stand there, unmoving and silent. There’s no attempt to walk me out. No nod. No see you later.

Nothing.

I step into the hallway and pull the door shut, exhaling until there's nothing left. “Guess it's just you and me, huh, bud?”

We make our way outside, every step sending a dull ache through my ass that I'm going to be feeling for days. “Ugh. Like I need another reminder of them.”

Except that was the best sex of my life.

Blue hops up into the back seat of the Range Rover, and I close the door, resting my forehead on the cool metal.

I didn't do a single thing up there. Didn't make sure they enjoyed the sex too. I just laid there while they did all the work.

No wonder they couldn’t even bother to say goodbye.

Chapter 22

Hunter

I slide into the booth, back to the door, setting my helmet beside me. Across the table, Garrett holds out the pot of coffee.

“Water’s fine.” I grab the glass in front of me, downing half of it, my gaze never leaving my brother. He looks . . . good. Tired, but not broken. His shirt’s a bit wrinkled, grease stain on the cuff of his jacket.