Page 21 of Grave Beginnings

“Snuggly?” I asked.

“Protective,” Angel amended. “Do you need gear, or do you have something in that cat-banana bag of yours for workouts?”

“Sweatpants and a tank.” Preparedness was something I was used to. I always had extra clothes, snacks, meds, and even a first aid kit.

“Get changed, then I’ll show you where we regularly kick rookie ass.”

“Super. Sounds like a great time,” I grumbled as I dug through my pack.

Wade walked by us in jogging shorts and a tight tee, but I barely glanced at him as I hurried to change. My eyes were locked on Angel, three lockers down, as he stripped down to a jockstrap and tugged on a pair of sweats and a tank top. The amount of ink covering the man in black swirls caught my breath—and that gorgeous ass. I gulped, reminding myself that staring in a locker room was a surefire way to get my ass kicked. Then again, he was going to do that regardless.

“Are they all spells?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“What?” Angel asked as he tugged the shirt over his head and down a very finely sculpted chest.

“The tattoos. I mean, they are very pretty. I mean, cool looking. Sad to think they were all used for bad things.”Shut up, Jude, I lectured myself.How about we go poke the bear with a stick instead of rubbing the cat the wrong way?

“No. They aren’t all spells. I covered them up with art and some counter-spells, to keep them from being reactivated.”

“Oh,” I said, staring at the swirls over his bicep that ran rightthrough the glow of his mark. “That’s good, then.” He closed his locker and I followed suit, waiting for him to show me the way to the gym.

“And no, I didn’t watch PBS. I got thrown into the military at thirteen when they knew the change wouldn’t kill me.”

“What the hell? You were a kid.”

“Easy to control. That’s what they wanted. The war was raging and they needed bodies to throw at the enemy.”

“Holy fuck. I’m sorry, man. No one should have to live through that.”

“We all have shit in our past.” He shrugged as if it no longer mattered. But trauma was the bitch that rose up to bite you when you thought you’d been healed a decade.

“And sorry about the pegging comment, and the toys. I understand if you need to report me to HR for a SH violation.”

“You get a lot of those?”

“Never.”

“Right, dead people don’t talk,” he snorted. “We don’t have an HR. I could tell Hanna and she’d likely ask me why I was bothering her with mundane matters.”

“Seriously?”

“Didn’t you know? Once you start SED, there’s no way out but a body bag. Though, I suppose you could get drafted to the military, since you’re a SV.”

“Are you for real? I’m working for the supernatural mob now?” I gaped.

“Pretty much.” Angel put his finger on my chin and snapped my mouth closed. “Best not give anyone ideas, pretty boy.” He headed for the elevator bay.

“You’re not straight, are you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Straight men find me very threatening. I suspect they think my dick is delicious and can’t stop wondering, so they get mad at me for just being me.” I held out my arms as we arrived at theelevator to exhibit my greatness. “And they aren’t wrong. I’m sure my dick is delicious.”

He snorted. “You’re full of yourself, too.”

Rather be full of you, I thought to myself as he hit the button and one of the elevators opened. We stepped in, and he hit the B. Was there a gym in the basement? “So, not straight?” I asked.

“I’m equal opportunity. You’ll find most anyone touched by the Veil’s split will be. Life is too short for those sorts of boundaries.” He gave me the side-eye as the door opened to a huge gym area. “Might want to start slow though. There’re plenty here who’d love a taste of that perky little ass of yours.”