Page 16 of Aryn

“Elas likes to fight you,” Bash argues. “And besides, he likes everybody.”

I gesture at Xeni as he unwinds my shitty stitching job. “He doesn’t like Xeni!”

“Elas and I get along just fine,” Xeni says with a glare.

“He didn’t like you when you were trying to fuck his mate,” I counter.

He throws the leather unceremoniously back into my lap. “And I didn’t like you when you were trying to fuck mine!”

“You didn’t even know me back then.”

He flashes a snarky smile. “Didn’t have to. And besides,” he adds, tossing his hair, “we aren’t talking about me.”

Ego sets her leather aside, tapping her fingers against the table as she studies me. “You aren’t exactly putting in a lot of effort, Cato. Ever since we got here, you’ve had this permanent scowl going. Tall, red, and broody can be hot, but right now it’s honestly just kind of annoying.”

“I am not brooding.”

Bash shoots me an apologetic grimace. “You kinda are, though. Like, what was that whole thing with Aryn yesterday in the training circle? You were pretty damn obnoxious while he was out there fighting.”

“And you made sure he heard it,” Ego adds.

I bristle. “Constructive criticism isn’t obnoxious, it’s necessary. We’re going on a mission together, and I need to know I can count on him when shit hits the fan.”

Bash hums low in his throat. “There wasn’t a whole lot of constructive in the criticism from what I heard. You were going at him pretty hard.”

“For fuck’s sake, Bash, it was advice.”

Xeni drops onto Bash’s lap, nodding at the leather draped over my thigh. “Why don’t you save the advice for someone who needs it? Best I can tell, you and Aryn are pretty evenly matched. The only ones who can beat either of you are Elas and Ronan.”

“I could beat Aryn,” I grumble, snatching the needle while deliberately trying to pinch softer between my fingertips.

“Why don’t you like him?” Bash asks.

“Who said I don’t?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Xeni drawls, “maybe we got the hint from the way you talk to him like he’s a child.”

“Or how you complain about him all the time,” Bash adds.

“Oh… my… gods,” Ego says, slapping her palm on the table. “You think he’s hot!”

“What?” I demand. The needle pierces the hide and stabs straight into my finger. A fat bead of blood wells up, and I decide I’m done with this whole damn thing as I fling the kit across the room.

“Yeah, okay, maybe we’ll leave medical care to Taryn,” Xeni mutters.

“You do!” Ego crows, leaning forward onto her elbows. “You always get all growly and pissed off when you want to fuck someone.”

“I don’t want to fuck Aryn,” I argue. “I don’t even like the guy.”

“Don’t have to like him to want a piece of that fine ass,” Ego counters with an obnoxious grunt. “And he’s so fucking calm, you just know he’d take care of his partner. Gods, I bet he’d make me cry.”

“And what would Sprocket have to say about that?”

Ego shoots me a scandalous grin. “We’re not defining anything yet. As much as I’d like to pretend she’d invite him in for the fun, she views him too much like a brother. It’s a damn shame, really. But! If we’re talking about sex tears—”

“Literally only you are talking about that,” I grumble.

“—she made me come three times last night. I’m pretty sure I was weeping.”