Page 18 of Ravaged Soul

“No shit.” I glare at him. “Having fun?”

“Living the dream.”

“So I hear.”

“You’re back early. Trouble in paradise?”

His smirk doesn’t budge, not even at my exaggerated eye roll. The scheming bastard loves to worm his way under my skin. Like his presence in our lives isn’t already confusing enough.

When Sabre offered him a plea deal in exchange for his assistance, a part of me was secretly thrilled by the idea of having him close. Blaine’s dark aura, his raw intelligence and silent schemes… it all exudes influence and power. We need his brand of evil right now.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s delicious to look at either.

A fact my ovaries have most definitely noted.

“Something like that,” I dismiss quickly. “Why have you been driving Axel mad?”

Blaine flicks invisible lint off his shirt. “He’s the mad one. I’ve been perfectly polite.”

“Because throwing a knife at me is perfectly polite!” Axel blusters.

“It’s not buried in your gut, is it?” Blaine responds. “There you go. Polite.”

“God, I cannot wait to demolish you with a machine gun then piss on your corpse.”

“I would enjoy seeing you try. It’s been a while since I practiced my skinning skills.”

“Come near me with a knife again, and you won’t have hands to practice anything with.”

“Guys.” I grapple to find some patience. “Enough.”

Neither pays any attention to me. They’re far too busy tossing verbal barbs in lieu of actually pulling their dicks out to measure them side by side. Fantastic. This is really productive for effective teamwork.

Escaping their pissing contest, I head straight for the kitchen to locate a cold beer from the fridge. I don’t know when Warner or Hyland will make an appearance, but before they do, I need a drink.

By the time I’ve popped the cap with my teeth and thrown back half of the bottle, Axel and Blaine have followed me into the kitchen. Considering there are five people currently living here, the marble surfaces and array of high-end appliances are pretty spotless.

Blaine lounges on a stool at the breakfast bar, his switchblade retrieved from Axel now spinning between his fingers. Ignoring him, Axel opens the cabinet where my medication is organised and begins to dole out my evening pills.

“I can do it,” I feebly protest.

“You’re cute and all, dimples, but you look like a strong breeze would knock you over right about now.”

He plasters on a cheerful smile while pushing the bright-coloured handful across the marble countertop towards me.Glowering at him, I ignore the way my knuckles twinge, still coated in dried blood.

“I do not.”

Axel shrugs. “Just an observation.”

“Then observe silently in the future.”

“Is that an order or a threat?”

“Can’t it be both?” I quip back.

“Well, I’d prefer a threat. That would be far hotter.”

“Then it’s a fucking order.”