Page 98 of The Vigilant

I stilled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been borrowing her things since we came back here.”

“Where are your things?” He sounded angry.

I swallowed. “Still back at the house, I’m guessing.”

I had other things on my mind besides my meager bag of clothes, and the times when I did think about it, there was no one to go get them.

“You didn’t go get them?” He searched my narrowed eyes.

I’d thought about that, too. There was nothing stopping me from getting back on his bike and going over there. It wasn’t like I was afraid of the house or going back into that room. But the thought of leaving Tynan alone, even for less than an hour…

“I couldn’t leave,” I said and tried to brush it off. “It’s not a big deal?—”

“It’s a big deal to me.” His jaw pulsed. “Put your shoes on. We’re going to get them now.”

“What? You can’t?—”

He growled, and my mouth snapped shut.

“I can, and I’ll go with or without you.”

I huffed and went in search of my boots.Stupid…stubborn…mine.

“You fixed my jacket.” Tynan examined the sleeve as he drove the black SUV down the drive.

I was worried about him driving his bike, but thankfully, Dare was in the garage when we walked through and offered the keys to his Suburban instead.

“After we cleaned it, I couldn’t just leave it…slashed,” I explained, watching the slow roll of the ocean against the shore, the sound like a familiar record playing a loop in my mind.

“So you stitched it and then repaired the patch.”

I let my eyes flick over to him, drinking in the sight of him driving with only one hand on the wheel.

“I had to do something.”

He flattened his palm on the wheel to turn off the highway. The simplicity and thoughtlessness of the one-handed movement sent a bolt of heat low into my stomach.

“Was that your first tattoo?”

I stilled and then looked down, realizing I’d been rubbing my thumb over my wasp.

“Yeah.” I lifted my arm and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Mara and I got them not long after Dad died.”

“And the others?”

I let out a slow breath. “More recent.”

“And the nipple piercings?”

“After the wasp but before the scorpions,” I answered and countered, “How about you? How long has your dick been pierced?”

He let out a grunt, and the way he shifted in his seat made me squirm in mine.

“Nine years.” He cleared his throat. “It was Ryan’s idea.”

My brows snapped up. “For you to pierce your dick?”

“No.” A flash of a smile creased his cheek. “Ryan’s idea to dare all of us to do it.”

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