Page 68 of Rayne

I can feel the curve of the 'J' as the blade travels down, before Jett pulls back to inspect his handiwork.

"You're perfect, Tempest," he remarks, gazing at me with astonishment.

"I want to see," I say, sitting up. Spreading my legs in front of them—because let's be honest, they've seen it all—I look down, surveying the initials from upside down.

Blood trickles down my thighs, little droplets landing on the kitchen island. Jett wipes it with his finger, plopping it into his mouth as he locks eyes with me.

"Go get showered," he mutters. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes."

I swallow, nodding as I slide off the bench to my feet. Turning to Hawk, I smile up at him. "Are you coming?"

Hawk shakes his head. "We'll let you have some privacy. I'll stay here with Jett and set the table."

"Okay," I murmur, walking off to the staircase. I'm not used to this softer side of them—my body wondering if it's always been there. I'm sure it has—I've always seen their sweeter side with our parents. Still, it's nice to see the different sides. It makes them appear… human.

I take a quick shower, my eyes zoning off at the tiled wall as I process what happened in the office. A small part of me worries for Elijah, and I hate myself for it. He tried to force himself onto me, so I shouldn't care at all. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm guilt-ridden once again, questioning my actions over the past few weeks. I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter. Even if I came off overly friendly, no means no. I shouldn't have had to specify a reason—or several of them—to get him to stop.

And suddenly, everything else comes into perspective. This entire ridiculous relationship I have with Hawk and Jett—I stop and question it. The times when I said no and they kept going. Was it different?

I think back to the night of the key party, how much I absolutely hated them. I had told myself so many times I should have just tried harder to leave. But the flashbacks come in and I recognize a difference.

It was crossing lines, for sure. But on a level, I wanted it. And slowly, that level grew. Also I kissed them first—even if it was because of a promise.

I think it's because in the back of my mind, I always knew they wouldn't hurt me. If I had begged them to stop, they would have. But they were right… I loved the thrill.

Tomorrow is going to be a horrible day. I have no idea what it will bring or if I should even go to work.

Will I be fired? Will Elijah be there? Will he be fired?

Part of me wonders if I should email Jason. I know his cell is always with him and he has his emails set up on it.

Maybe they already know. If Elijah was hurt, surely he would have contacted someone about it. Fuck—what about the night cleaners? Hawk was covered in blood. Someone would see that in the office for sure.

I realize I've been in the shower for too long, my skin numb from the hot water. I quickly turn off the taps, reaching for a towel.

I dry myself off, searching through Hawk's drawers for clothes. I settle on an oversized shirt, leaving the bottom half. The shirt is so big on my frame that it hides everything anyway, and I head downstairs. The smell of food is welcoming and I find the guys at the table, waiting patiently.

Bowls of pasta are in front of them, one in my place too. Neither of them have touched their own food as they wait for me.

"That was longer than ten minutes," Jett points out playfully.

"Sorry," I sigh, sitting down. "I got distracted."

Hawk looks at me in concern. "Are you okay?"

I shrug. "Not really," I admit honestly. "I don't know how to feel. I think I feel too much… all at once."

"That's okay," Jett says softly. "No one expects you to be fine."

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask them, my own thoughts sending me on a tangent again. "What's going to happen tomorrow?"

They stay quiet, watching me closely as I pick up my fork and play with my food.

"You did nothing wrong," Hawk answers finally. "As for tomorrow—we'll take care of it."

I just nod, popping some pasta into my mouth. It's cheesy and delicious, but for some reason, I can barely focus on the taste. "I think I just need a good sleep. In the morning once my head is clear, I might have a better idea of what to do moving forward."

"Well eat up," Jett responds. "Then you can go to sleep and rest. It will be alright. Promise."

---