Page 73 of Savage Thirst

He's not wrong. Still, I narrow my eyes and lean back in the chair, cradling the half-finished coffee. "So you delayed essential mission intel for the sake of waffles."

He raises an eyebrow. The closest thing to gloating you'll ever get from Asher.

"It's a small magic supply shop," he adds. "No delivery. You'll have to go in person."

"Fine," I say, already pushing back the chair. "I'll go. Today."

As I start to rise, his hand rests lightly on my shoulder, firm enough to still me.

"You don't have a car."

"There are buses."

"You don't have money," he adds smoothly. "Or a phone."

I scowl. "I ditched mine. Traceable."

Not like I have anyone to call anyway.

"You're not going alone," he says, and this time, it's not a suggestion.

I open my mouth to argue, but Kayden's voice beats me to it, cutting through with lazy amusement. "Did I hear the word road trip?"

I turn. He's leaning in the doorway like sin and sarcasm, arms crossed, smile dangerous.

"Nobody said that," I snap.

"Didn't have to," he shoots back. "It's implied."

"Only one of us needs to go with her," Asher interjects, his tone perfectly neutral.

But from where I'm sitting, I see the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth.

He's baiting his brother. Kayden takes it.

"Oh, likehellI'm letting you two go alone," he says, pushing off the frame. "Especially after you came back yesterday smelling like weed and full of unresolved sexual tension. Nah. You can stay here, big brother. Light a candle. Align your chakras. I'll handle our girl."

Ourgirl.

He says it so casually, but it lands like a thunderclap in my chest.

I don't comment, but something twists inside me.

"I figured as much, Kayden," Asher says, still calm, but this time there's steel in it. "We're all going."

And just like that, it's an order.

Kayden scowls. "Fine. But we're taking my car. Faster and with more style."

"Then you're driving first," Asher replies.

They lock eyes, both deadpan, both entirely too entertained.

There's a whole silent language passing between them—sarcastic, competitive, laced with history and heat. I feel like I should be charging tickets.

"I'msoglad we all contributed equally to this discussion and reached a healthy consensus," I mutter, finishing off the last of the coffee.

Not that I'm actually complaining. A six-hour ride with them beats a grimy bus seat and stale vending machine snacks.