Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
El frowned and stood straighter. “If I’d known this was a competition, I would have cut off my finger.”
Trig’s chest buzzed, and he grabbed El’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Don’t make jokes like that! You almost died tonight!”
“So what exactly happened?” Grim asked with a stoic expression, his broad shoulders relaxed as if they were discussing a new paint job for his Harley. “Was it clean or did you splash blood all over the walls?”
Trig glared his way, unsure how to answer, because he’d been so preoccupied with El’s safety that he didn’t remember such details.
El shrugged, but Trig knew him too well to not notice how he avoided looking into Grim’s eyes. “It was everywhere. We had to shower on the way here.”
Hunter whistled, and El shoved at his arm. “Not like that!”
Exactly like that, Trig thought to himself, still savoring the memory of El’s familiar flavor.
Fortunately, Grim was way more interested in violence than their sex life. “And they cut your arm?”
Once Grim had prepared the burger to Misha’s specifications, they walked over to the wicker sofa, and he handed the food to his boyfriend as if he were bringing his kitten a treat.
“There was a fight, and… yeah,” Trig muttered, not wanting to reveal that El had decided to kill himself rather than be taken by the bastards who’d come for him.
Misha moved his hand up Grim’s thigh and grabbed his hand, feigning an attempt to pull himself up from the sofa. He was perfectly capable of getting up without help, but in his and Grim’s world asking for aid constituted flirting.
“I think my ankle needs oiling,” he said.
It was as if a switch in Grim had flipped. He spun around and dropped to one knee. “Where?” he asked, touching the prosthetic leg as if it were made of glass.
“I think I’ll get some more meat,” Hunter said, even though there was another pack of burgers on the folding table behind him.
“Oh yeah, I just remembered David wanted me to call him back. I’ll be a second. Look out for the grill for me, will you?” Raja patted Trig’s shoulder with a wink.
Of course they were jumping ship. But then again, nobody was as accustomed to Misha and Grim’s weird love dance as Trig.
Misha’s calculating gaze remained on El when Grim’s fingers travelled up the prosthetic limb. “So you’re back together?”
“Yes,” Trig said while El replied, “no,” at the same time.
They looked at each other, and El slipped out from under Trig’s arm, taking away his warmth and the scent of the cheap shower gel they’d used at the truck stop.
“He’ll come around,” Grim said, carefully moving the joint of his partner’s artificial leg. “Misha also rejected me at first, and look at us now.”
El frowned. “I’m standing right here.”
Misha stroked the side of Grim’s scarred face with the backs of his fingers, but his gaze darted to meet El’s. “Exactly. You’re still standing here, even though nothing’s stopping you from leaving.”
Trig stiffened and shook his head at Misha, because this was like waving a red cloth in front of a bull. El had a short fuse, and suggesting he was predictable was the easiest way to spin him out of control.
“I appreciate it, guys, but we can work this out ourselves.”
El sneered, and his dimple piercings sank deeper into his flesh. “I’ll get a drink.”
Which was code for making a run for it, so Trig grabbed a beer out of the cooler and handed it to him. “Just sit on the sofa and chill,” he said more harshly than he’d intended, but between the killing, almost losing El, then having sex, and being rejected again, his patience was running thin.
El must have sensed it because he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but then grabbed the beer and dropped to the wicker three-seater. Even with the disgruntled twist to his lips, he was so handsome Trig itched to cover his skin with kisses and love bites. There were moments when that angular face relaxed until Trig saw El as the boy he used to share everything with. Years and the stress of being on his own had sharpened the familiar features, turning them almost fox-like, but Trig liked the mature version of him just as much. El’s volatile, destructive nature was irresistible, and while he knew he might eventually get burned by its fire, he couldn’t give up on the sweetness he knew hid deep inside El, behind all the barbed wire and traps.
This man had laughed and cried with Trig, kept him warm at night, shared food with him, and had given him the courage to dream rather than merely exist. Trig was happy with the Coffin Nails, but the hole left inside him after El’s departure had never healed, and Trig would try to get him back, regardless of the cost.