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And nothing about my girl screams desperate.
“Yo, Bane! Our boy's losing it today. He's been staring at some chick who turned him down hard. Any longer, and she's gonna think he's a stalker or some shit.”
Ace's booming voice jolts me out of memory lane. I have to blink a few times to get my vision to clear. I glare at my friend, but there's no heat and he's not even paying attention to me anyway. Too busy greeting my cousin, Bane, and a couple guys who came with him.
I lift my chin in acknowledgment as Bane saunters toward me with his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jeans. He's always fucking meandering like he never has a care in the world.
“You crash and burn, Nova?” Bane asks, eyebrow arched with a smirk.
“Please, I wasn't even trying.”
Bane arches a dark brow, the fucking signature St. James look that says you're full of shit. Fortunately for me, I'm fucking immune to it.
“Don't let him fool you, man. He's got the first round for everyone tonight,” Gunnar yells from inside the bar's doorway.
Bane rolls the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other with a grin. “I thought I taught you to only bet on shit you can win.”
“What can I say? I love a good underdog.” I roll my shoulders back, a one-liner on the tip of my tongue when I spot someone greet my temptress with open arms.
Coraline fucking Carter.
“Fuck.” The harsh curse leaves my mouth in a heated murmur, my brows crashing low over my eyes.
Bane whistles, somehow packing judgment and disbelief in the high-pitched sound. “Jagger know you're making a play on Coraline?”
I scoff. “Fucking please, I like my balls where they're at, thanks.”
Coraline's a fucking preying mantis, gobbling men up after she's had her fill. At least that's the way Jagger tells it. From the sounds of it, It's a miracle he survived her relatively unscathed. She's been vocally anti-Reaper ever since their thing blew up.
Which might be problematic for me, considering I'm a legacy Reaper. Locked in for life.
Bane claps a hand on my shoulder, digging his fingertips into the soft spot by my collarbone. “Good luck getting through Coraline to her friend, man.”
I grunt in response. Then a lightbulb flashes in my mind, bright white and startling in its clarity.
They have the same hair color. Like theexactsame shade. Looks black from a distance, but up close it's a deep, rich brown with reflective auburn tones.
My ma would always say you could pick out a Carter girl from the crowd just by their hair. A genetic gift passed down through generations on their maternal side.
My little temptress is a Carter.
5
EVANGELINE
The low bassof motorcycles approached from a distance, growing louder until it seemed to fill the air. Cora and I pull apart just as three motorcycles come into view. Gleaming chrome glinted in the sinking sunlight, casting long shadows on the street and sidewalk. They don't stop at The Wild Boar like I anticipated, instead cruise down Main Street.
I feel her stare burning into the side of my face but I keep her in my peripheral vision for another moment.
“Ugh, no, babe,” she says, shaking her head. “I love you but no.”
My gaze snaps from the grim reaper patch on the back of their kuttes to her. I let my face fall into something neutral, relaxing my expression. “What?”
“Ugh, don't even bother,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “They're not worth the heartache. Lying, cheating, big-dicked assholes who fuck around just because they can.”
My brows arch toward my hairline. I don't even know why I'm surprised. Cora never minces her words, and she's unapologetically authentic.
But she usually doesn't lay it all out there five feet away from some kids eating rapidly-melting ice cream cones with their parents.
