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“You are,” Cyril insists, and when I meet his eyes, I expect there to be mockery or amusement. Instead, I just find him looking steadily back at me. As if heisn’tmaking fun of me. “And I told you. I have a job for you.”
“And I told you that you can’t afford me.”
Cyril sighs and reaches out, though this time, I step back before he can touch me. His hand lingers in the air, and his grin widens.
“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he informs me, wiggling his fingers.
“I’m not risking it.”
“Haveanyof us hurt you?”
“I take emotional pain and sufferingveryseriously.”
Cyril rolls his eyes, though the smirk remains, and shoves his hands back in his pockets. One reemerges, and he brandishes a small package at me that’s wrapped in brown paper.
“I’m not a drug mule,” I tell him, my heart doing little flips in my chest because I donotwant to carry drugs down the street in this city. Or any city, quite frankly.
“And I’m not a drug dealer, so we can safely say this isn’t full of drugs.” He reaches out to slip it into the pocket of myInkubushoodie. “Get your phone out so I can give you the address.”
“And call me an Uber? Which I’m not paying for, by the way.” I don’twantto do this. Iwantto go reinforce the locks of my apartment and watch movies, or maybe even sleep. This time with a sharper knife by my bedside, instead of cuddling it to my chest, maybe. After a moment, I add, “What makes you think I won’t just chuck this in the garbage once you leave?”
“Because you’re a much better person than that, darling,” he tells me, and I have to wonder if this wholeWendy Darlingthing is going to stick around for long. It seems like he’s latched onto it like a dog with a bone, and it makes me frown. “And because if you do, I’ll have to punish you.” He definitely sounds way too happy about the idea ofpunishingme.
“Are you going to rub my nose in it like a bad puppy?” I can’t help but sneer, half-hating that I can’t just keep my mouth shut.
“No, but I’ll spank you like one.”
Those aren’t the words I’m expecting, and I stare at him while I try to think of something good to say.
“Of course, you’ll probably like it. So we’ll have to come up with another punishment,” Cyril muses, plucking my phone from my hand without enough resistance from me.
I’m still trying to process his threat ofspankingme. And working through my own reaction to it. I wouldn’t let him. Obviously, but there’s something too enticing about the mental image of Cyril dragging me over his knees and making good on his threat.
When I blink myself back into reality, it’s to see the leader of Lost Boys watching me with dark, glittering eyes and a smile that plays on his lips. “Come on,” he chides. “Are you really that hard up that my little threat has you so far gone already?”
“No,” I deny, though it doesn’t have any heat in it when I say it.
“Because if so,anyof my boys would take you up on even the barest hint of an offer. And if you like, I can give you a little preview of what they’re all into.”
“Nope,” I say again.
“They’re alldifferent, so it’s a new experience with every single one. But that’s to be expected, obviously.”
I want to ask him if he’sexperiencedall of them and if that’s how he knows what they’re all into, but I don’t. I press my lips together and beg my tongue to behave, just this once.
“Address?” I manage to choke out finally, wanting to end this conversationright here.
“Ashe is really good with knives. But you probably knew that.”
“Uber,” I reply.
“And Ezra’s a sadomasochist. I think he’d be whatever you like more, with enough convincing. If you want to top him, I could definitely help you talk him around.”
“Address?” I try again, not wanting to give any indication that I want to continue this uh, fascinating explanation.
Though he hasn’t mentioned Isaac yet, and I hate that I’m a little bit curious.
“Arlo’ssweet.” He says the word like it means more than it should. “He’ll take care of you and be so nice to you while he’s railing you so hard that I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to take it.”
