Page 55 of Dance of Defiance

“You remember the part where Lyra's husband is the head of a Mafia family, yeah?” Naomi snickers. “Oh, and certifiably cray-cray?”

Lyra snorts. “I mean, no lie detected, but have you metyourman?”

“As if we need to be reminded how incestuous this little group of ours is,” I groan, making a face.

Lyra’s husband, Carmine, is the don of the Barone family—and yes, certifiably fucking insane. Naomi’s boyfriend-slash-probably-husband-any-day-now is Carmine’s brother, Nico.

…Who isalso, in my totally unqualified opinion, completely psychotic.

For a second, my gaze slides between the two of them as they gab and gossip, laughing together about something that happened at dinner with the four of them last weekend.

I don’t have what they have. I’veneverhad that. And they found it so easily.

Family. A shared bond. Love.

I mean, I have Vaughn, and don’t get me wrong, I fucking love that I’ve discovered this brother I didn’t even know I had. But…it’s a slow process with us. We’re close, but still notclose-close. Part of it is the years spent apart, but my brother is also very clear that the Obsidian Syndicateishis family, and there’s an unspoken follow-up to that that the Syndicate and that brotherhood comes before me andourbrotherhood.

Eh, it is what it is.

And love?

I snort inwardly.

Love is just a tangle of emotions, fucky brain chemistry, and lust wanting to be something more. I’m happy for Naomi and Lyra, though…and Milena and Brooklyn, for that matter. They found it so easily: that thing I know I won’t, because of who I am.

It’s not a queer thing.

It’s amething.

On impulse, one hand crosses to the opposite arm, sliding up my forearm, elbow, and then bicep. My fingers slide over the tangle of chaotic ink over that one spot…

The hand drops away, and I blink as I swallow it all back.

Again, it’s amething. It’s why I don’t allow myself to get close to anything real, ever.

Keep it fun, easy, loose, simple. Nothing serious.

Someone’s phone dings. I reach for my pocket before remembering that I left my phone on the fire escape step.

…Which is when Lyrashrieks.

“VAL!” She cracks up, screeching with laughter but also with a look of disgust on her face. She quickly turns away from the phone sitting on the steps next to her—myphone—squeezing her eyes shut and giggling loudly.

“What!?” Naomi blurts.

“Someone just texted him a photo of two assholes!”

I grin and reach over to pluck the phone away from Lyra.

“Okay, settle down, let me?—”

Oh.

She meant literally. Crissy just sent another pic.

“It’s rude to look at other people’s phones, Lyra,” I tease.

She groans and covers her eyes. “It’s also rude to be such a ho that people are sending youbuttholeselfies at eight in the fucking morning!”