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“Hang on, do you have matching tattoos?” I noticed an IV tattoo on Cassius’ left pec, just over his heart, and the same one on West’s ribs.
“Sure do, babe. We’re the Four. Hence the tattoo.” Cassius shrugged.
Right. “Where’s Zayde’s?” I mumbled under my breath, stealing a look at his inked body again. He gave me a cold, blank stare, and I turned to the range cooker, my face flushed.
As I tipped the eggs into the frying pan, the boys were forgotten and my mind turned to my mother, against my will. I needed to get closer to her, to find out as much as I could. She—
Every thought I’d had flew out of my head as I turned around to grab the mushrooms, right at the same moment Caiden sauntered into the kitchen.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
Days.
Maybe my stupid hormones were taking over, because my heart rate shot up and my mouth went dry as I drank him in. Faded, ripped jeans, the top of an IV tattoo just showing above the waistband, tantalising me, acres of tanned, tattooed skin, and muscles all over the place. As my eyes trailed up to his face, I saw an angular jaw, a fucking perfect nose, grey-blue eyes shadowed by ebony lashes, and just-rolled-out-of-bed messy black hair. Yep. Caiden was insanely gorgeous. How could anyone be that good-looking?
Hang on a minute.
I did a double take, noting the marks on his jeans, and the way his hands were stained a bright pink. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
Anger filled Caiden’s face as he noticed me standing by the oven.
“What the fuck? Why is she here, and why is she wearing my fucking clothes?” He practically snarled his question at the other three, and I noticed Weston slinking around the island to put as much distance as possible between us.
“What’s the matter, mate? She was tired, and she crashed here, and needed something to wear to bed. I just grabbed what I could. So she ended up in your T-shirt. No big deal.” Cassius shrugged, clearly struggling not to laugh. Right. He’d done this on purpose.
“I’ll take it off, shall I?” I raised a brow, placing my hands on the hem of the very plain, generic black cotton tee—no idea how Caiden knew it was his.
“Leave it on,” Caiden barked out. “No one needs to be put off their breakfast before they’ve even eaten.”
Wow. Could he make it any clearer that he despised me?
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d thrown the mushrooms into the pan and was stepping right up to him, so close that I could feel the heat from his body as he glared down at me. “You might want to wash your hands. They’re looking a little pink, King Caiden.”
He stepped even closer, his body pressing into mine, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “King Caiden, huh? If I’m the king, then get on your knees and worship me.”
A shudder ran through me at his low, harsh rasp. I met his dark gaze, seeing the barely restrained fury clear in his eyes, and I steeled myself, welcoming the anger that surged within me, smothering the lust. “Fuck you,” I spat through clenched teeth. “If you’re insinuating that I can suck your dick, I’d rather choke to death on my own vomit than have that anywhere near my mouth.”
“Get out of my sight,” he hissed, to the sound of muffled laughter behind us, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to remain under control.
“Sorry, can’t. I’m in the middle of making breakfast.” I shrugged. He growled and pushed past me, stalking over to the sink and turning the tap on. Thrusting his hands under the jet of water, he scrubbed at them, scowling.
“Did you get all the paint off your car?” There was amusement but also concern in Cassius’ voice.
“Yes.” Caiden glanced in my direction, a sneer on his lips. “Nice try, Winter, but your spray paint was washable.”
“I’ll remember to buy the stuff that doesn’t wash off next time, then,” I snapped, turning back to the cooker, my eyes stinging with frustrated tears. I was so fucking fed up with the constant hostility coming from him, and after the events of last night, I was rapidly reaching the end of my tether.
He’d learn not to mess with me.
I silently made the omelette and slid the large pan onto the centre of the island. “There. I’ll make another if that’s not enough, but you get a quarter each.”
“Don’t you want any?”
I gave Weston a forced smile. “No, I’m not hungry. I’m just going to go and change into my clothes, then get going.” Watching Caiden out of the corner of my eye, I waited for a moment, then took my chance. I rounded the island, “accidentally” bumping his arm as he raised it, full glass of orange juice in hand, ready to drink, and rushed out of the room to the sound of his angry roar.
