Page 171 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Damn.

Ascension wore Cyrus Stuart like a perfectly tailored suit.

The asshole was gorgeous in that rugged, bad-decision-on-a-motorcycle kind of way. Not someone I’d bring home to meet my mother, but fuck if he hadn’t grown up well. Fair skin tinged with Southern sun, golden hazel eyes that looked straight through you, and a jawline etched with stubble. His long blond hair was mostly tamed into a messy man bun at his nape—though a few strands had escaped in the melee.

Unfair. Karmically unjust.

“Shucks, Crew,” I drawled. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m the only one allowed to piss Nix off that much.”

“You always were a territorial bastard.”

“And you were always a damn pain in the ass.”

“Guess you should’ve known, then.”

“Guess so.”

“Bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“What is?”

“Making those girls share you, but you won’t let the rest of us have any fun. Almost like you’re compensating for something.”

A ruinous smile spread across that infuriatingly pretty face. “And what, pray tell, would that be, Freya Porter?”

I sighed, slowly dragging my gaze down his frame and back up to his face. “You grew up nicely,” I said flatly.

He narrowed his eyes. “Was that a compliment?”

“I would never.”

“Of course not.”

“I see you’re still waiting on that frame to fill in, though.”

“I see you’re still waitin’ to grow the fuck up.”

I shrugged one screaming shoulder. “Small size came in handy infiltrating Uptown.” Something flickered behind his eyes at that—agitation, maybe. His lip curled before he could catch it. Smirking, I leaned in for the kill. “Oof. Sore subject? I’ll try another. How’s mother dearest? Still prancing around like Lonan’s little bitch, or did she finally get off his leash?”

Something deeper flashed—pain, maybe—before anger roared back in to smother it.

“I see we’re declining the invitation to civility,” he hissed.

“Your chance for civility ended when you let a scorpion ride on your back, Crew.”

“Big words for a little woman hanging from the rafters.”

I laughed, the sound unhinged and breathless. “I thought Paladins traveled in sixes,” I said, nodding behind him. “Not eights.”

His scowl carved deep lines—then vanished as Cyrus whirled.

Chaos erupted.

The two tallest shadows I’d clocked earlier turned on their uniformed companions, LEDs blasting to life overhead. Shadows scattered. The room exploded into a melee.

I swore, my grin vanishing as pain surged.