“Jesu—will you let the girl check your stitches?” Ted protests with a mouth full of pancake. “You’re acting like a motherfucking child.”
Huss sneers, folding one of his thick arms over his chest. “Well, it fucking hurts.”
“You know what hurts me?”
“I was in a car accident. I don’t give a shit what’s hurting y—”
Ted swallows his food and points the tip of his fork at Huss. “That damn shirt you’re wearing. What color is that anyway? Pansy pink?”
Chuckling, I head over to the sink. Looking back over my shoulder, Huss pinches the bright fabric between his thumb and forefinger.
“It’s salmon! How many times do I have to say it?”
“And how many times do I have to tell you that’s not fucking Salmon.” Ted argues. “It’s pinker than the nipples on an albino.”
I snort as I turn away and reach for the soap. I pump once and foam up my hands. There’s never a dull moment when you’re stuck with Ted and Huss. The conversations these men have are ridiculous, inappropriate, and downright disgusting.
“Do albinos even have pink nipples?” Huss asks and I glance over my shoulder.
He scratches his head, the tips of his fingers running over the flaming skull tattoo that I hate so much. They both ponder the question before peering at me for an answer. I pull my head back in offense, contorting my face. Are they kidding? First of all, it’s inappropriate to ask such a question and second of all, whether or not albinos have pink nipples isn’t something I’ve ever felt the need to ask—or Google.
“How am I supposed to know? Do I look albino to you?”
“You are a little pale.” Huss points, receiving an agreeing nod from Ted.
I scoff. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Turning, I hit the tap and water shoots out. I stick my hands underneath the thin jet and let the water blast the soap off my skin. They howl with laughter while I ignore them.
“Tell us, Kitten. Are your nipples pink?” Huss asks, his voice thick with humor and genuine interest.
Shutting off the tap, I turn around and face him as he sits on the wooden bar stool opposite Ted, his knees pressed against the dishwasher.
“You should ask Jai.” I tell him, a wicked smile spreading my lips. “He knows.”
Ted lifts his arms, surrendering from the conversation. “Oh no. I’m bowing out of this one. Jai will kick your already disabled ass and I want nothing to do with it.”
Huss looks at Ted. “You scared?”
“Scared? Nah. I’m smart. Besides, fucking with a girl like her? No thanks.”
Because that’s not offensive. For a girl who has major daddy issues—which I mentally admit—I like to impress every male I meet to some degree. I mean, what girl doesn’t like to feel desired and pretty? Show me one and I’ll show you a liar.
“A girl like me?” I ask, leaning back on the bench. “What’s wrong with girls like me?”
“You’ve all got that crazy look in your eyes. It’s unsettling.”
“That crazy look?”
“Uh-huh. The ‘I will saw your dick off with a blunt pair scissors if you do me wrong’ look—and don’t you dare feign innocence. I distinctly remember you attacking me like a bat out of hell the first time I showed up.”
“Jai didn’t tell me you were coming. I panicked.”
“You almost choked me to death. You know what? It doesn’t matter. My mom would whoop my ass if I ever brought a white girl to family dinner anyway, especially after the last one.”
Huss snorts, his gray eyes flaring with interest. “She doesn’t like white girls?”
“She likes white girls...provided I’m not pumping babies into them.”
Ted scoops up scrambled egg with his spoon and stuffs it into his mouth. When he realizes Huss and I are staring at him he shrugs, swallows, and explains: “She’s very proud of her heritage and doesn’t want to water down the family tree.”
Huss laughs once and grips his glass of clean, cold water. “That’s messed up.”
“That’s my momma.”
Ted chuckles as Huss gulps down his drink. Emptying his glass, Huss places it on the kitchen bench and swipes his forearm over his mouth before grinning in my direction. Smug bastard.
“So?” He hints, tipping his head back ever so slightly.
“So...what?”
“Your nips. What color are they?”
He gives me a naughty smirk, the kind of smirk Jai would kill him for. To be honest, I’ve never been a one man kind of girl...until recently. The thought of committing to one person—to one soul—is unsettling. Curiously, I decide to take the opportunity to test myself and to test the intense feelings I have for Jai by attempting to return the suggestive smirk. Can I do it? I feel my face pinch together, my muscles forcing themselves into a scowl. I guess I’m a changed woman. Is that how deeply Jai affects me? Do I care for him so much that I don’t want to be with anyone else? Biologically speaking, Huss should make me all kinds of hot and bothered. He’s tall, hot, confident, and has just the right amount of inappropriateness about him, but the need just isn’t there. I wouldn’t have thought twice about banging him back in my ‘pre-Jai’ days...but now it’s different. Now I don’t want to share my body with anyone else.
Thunderous steps boom across the patio, growing louder and louder. Then, and only then, does a smirk tug at the corners of my lips.
Because I know the heavy feet causing such a frightful ruckus belong to my beast.
“Ask him.” I tell Huss, smiling victoriously.
The door flies open, its thin wood slamming against the wall of the house, and there he is.
Every angry inch of him.
Jai’s shoulders are squared, his eyebrows furrowed, and his handsome face is marred by a bleeding split in his lip. I’m guessing the talk with Joel didn’t go well.
Jai storms through the kitchen, as violent and as lethal as a tornado, before barging up the stairs, his feet dropping like stones against the floorboards.
Huss turns back to his plate and lifts his fork. “I’ll pass.”
Sipping his juice, Ted snickers. Behind the murderous Jai, Joel jogs in. His face is wild and angry, but his eyes give him away—panic and disappointment, emphasized by the gleam of regret. Joel heads for the stairs, but he’s not climbing them. Not on my watch. I push off the bench and swiftly cross the room. Slipping in front of Joel, I block his path to upstairs. I won’t let him upset Jai further. Not today.
He calms his breathing, forcing it through his nose. “I just want to apologize. That’s all.”
I shrug. “Give him a minute.”
If I let Joel upstairs with Jai now—in the state he’s in—I know Jai will end up doing something he’s going to regret later. I saw the darkness in Jai’s eyes when he entered the house and it wasn’t anger from the pressure his brother has put on him.
It was rage.
Murderous rage.
Team that with the fact Joel had apparently hit him in the mouth and you have the perfect cocktail for one lethal man.
Goosebumps prickle up my arms, over my shoulders and up behind my ears before dancing along my scalp. To be honest, I’m a little scared. I’m scared by the lack of emotion I felt from Jai when he entered the house. It makes me shudder…the last time I sensed that similar lack of humanity inside of him was when he fought in the tunnels underground.
He was vicious.
Cold.
He was another man—possessed by a demon who had an insatiable thirst for blood.
Jai enjoyed it. He’d never admit it, but he enjoyed beating his opponents to a pulp, and I know his brother isn’t exempt to such punishment. The way I see it, I’m doing Joel a favor by not letting him upstairs, especially if he likes his pretty face the way it is.