Page 118 of Twisted Violet

The silence or the missing weight beside me.

Ollie’s usually curled up at the end of my bed like a living furnace, but tonight?

My sheets are cold, my room is empty, and his snoring is eerily absent.

I sit up and blink blearily at the clock.

11:59 P.M.

He’s probably trying to break into the fridge again. The little bastard’s gotten smart lately. He’s even learned how to open his treat drawer.

I pull on a pair of shorts and pad into the hall, scratching the back of my neck, and see Rome stepping out of his room. He’s barefoot with sweats slung low on his hips, and his face is tight like he woke up on high alert.

“Did you hear that?” He mutters.

“It’s Ollie,” I say, yawning. “He gets the munchies at weird hours.”

Niko appears behind us, rubbing his eyes like a pissed-off vampire. “Tell your dog to stop fucking around in the kitchen while we’re trying to sleep.”

“You say that like I can control him.” I mumble.

Rome shakes his head. “Did he get into the trash again?”

I shrug. “There’s only one way to find out.”

We round the corner together.

Three half-awake shirtless men expecting to catch our dog mid trash panda mode.

Instead, we find…

Violet.

Standing in the center of the kitchen, like a fever dream none of us deserve.

Her long lavender hair spills down her back in loose waves and she’s wearing a crisp white apron withnothing else underneath it.

Just smooth tan skin, soft curves, and one perfect pink bow tied at the small of her back like a fucking present.

There’s a cake on the counter.

Candles lit, flames flickering.

She smiles.

Sweet. Sinful.Deadly.

Rome goes statue-still beside me.

Niko swears under his breath and spins away like he got clipped by a truck.

Me? I’m pretty sure my soul leaves my body.

She looks at us, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“It’s officially my birthday,” she says lightly, bending over to blow out the candles. “I think you guys owe me a present.”

She swipes a finger through the frosting, brings it to her lips, and licksit off slowly.