Page 87 of Barinov

“Perfect,” I groan while picking at my leggings. “So what is he making them do?”

“It’s different each time, sort of,” he begins. “He’s got them tailored to each guy. He’s got Cade out there doing art projects and Lex…”

He pauses.

My fingers freeze. “Lex what?”

Zeke swallows. “Luca’s created his version of the initiation to the Hollow Kings for Lex.”

Damn it. Lex told me all about the testosterone-filled-shit-show that is the Hollow Kings’ initiation. The brutal fights, the poison trail in the dark, and bleeding the vow. Knowing Luca, he’s probably twisted it into something far worse.

“Fuck,” I whisper into the narrow space between my pressed palms, fingertips resting just below the bridge of my nose. “This is not good.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Cade’s already finished his first trial.”

My eyes snap to him, muscles tensing in my shoulders. “What did he have to do?”

“Luca gave him a choice,” he says. “Sketch or paint. He chose sketch.”

“That doesn’t seem bad,” I admit.

“It was,” he says, lowering his voice. “He didn’t know what he was going to sketch until.”

He sighs.

“Until I walked into your room and well, you know.” He scrunches his nose.

“No,” I gasp. “When you?”

He nods.

“Then they were watching when… oh my God.” I stand up on shaky legs, pacing frantically in front of the mural. “So you’re telling me, that my boyfriends think that you…” I point between the two of us. “…and me fuck—”

I gag.

“Nope!” I cover my mouth. “Can’t even say it.”

“I’m sorry, Bells.”

“Shit,” I say, running a hand through my damp hair. “Lex is going to kill you. You know that right? He’s going to literally try to slit your throat the second he finds us.”

“Well aware, sis,” he confirms. “I’ve seen how he is.”

“Well this is just fucking perfect.”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p in that annoying way we used to do when we were kids.

I slow my steps. “Wait. Why the hell would Luca want you to… uh, you know…” I gag again. “If his whole thing is for me to become Izzy and fall madly in love with him all over again. How does that even make any sense?”

“It doesn’t,” he says, his voice tight. “Except for the fact that you made him jealous and the man doesn’t do well with jealousy.”

“What?” I ask, my brows practically at my hairline. “You’re saying this is my fault?”

“No. I’m not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Just sit down,” he says, patting the bed. “I can’t fucking think straight when you’re pacing like a damn lion.”