Page 3 of Little Bunny

Left something at your place. Need to pick it up. Why aren’t you answering door? It’s Friday night. You should be under that damn blanket, watching your show. Stop playing childish games and open up, Elijah.

He debated on replying for all of five seconds then shoved his phone back into his pocket. “What are we waiting for?” Enraged Trent just nailed his pathetic routine perfectly, he grabbed Percy’s hand and yanked him inside.

Elijah would prove he was more than granny blankets and remotes. Bastard.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but his ears rebelled against the loud, bass-filled music threatening to make them bleed.

They just stood there like two dorks, inhaling the scents of leather, booze, and… Elijah sniffed. Was that fried chicken?

When men entered behind them, he and Percy had to move farther inside. Yet, all Elijah wanted to do was spin around and haul ass. Neon signs hung above an entire wall of liquor. The table to his right was covered in a collection of shot glasses.

Either someone had no liver left or there had been a drinking contest from hell. The sound of pool balls cracking caught his attention, along with what looked like a heated argument on the other side of the room.

Elijah’s ass did not belong in there.

He felt like he was surrounded by a wall of testosterone and barely holding his ground. Every man in the room was built like they ate people like Elijah for breakfast then washed the carcass down with a whiskey chaser. Thick with muscle and confidence that said they owned whatever space they occupied.

Oh boy.

Percy shifted beside him, his hand grazing Elijah’s arm in a silent question—Are we really doing this? But Elijah wasn’t about to let Trent’s text drag him back to that blanket, so he lifted his chin and took a cautious step forward.

Then took a quick step back.

Eyes flicked their way, some barely sparing them a glance, others lingering just long enough to send a fresh wave of fear crawling through Elijah.

These men weren’t just rough around the edges. They looked like they’d been sharpened by a lifetime of fights and hard living. Leather stretched over broad shoulders, tattoos on full display, and the sheer presence of them made Elijah’s pulse spike.

These were not weekend bikers. These were men who could kill you with a glance and wouldn’t even blink.

He and Percy were not going to survive this. Sweat trickled down Elijah’s back, causing his shirt to cling to him. Now he felt like he’d wasted a perfectly good shower.

The heavy scent of whiskey and sweat lingered in the air, mixing with something earthier, something that made Elijah’s instincts itch in a way he couldn’t explain. The lighting was dim, the neon casting a glow over the polished bar top, where a few guys sat nursing their drinks, voices low, murmuring in a way that felt private.

Percy leaned in, his breath warm against Elijah’s ear. “Why did you let me drag you here?”

Elijah whipped his head around and glared at his best friend. “I suggested Ripples. You suggested possible death and dismemberment. We’re here now, so let’s make the best of it.”

This was the equivalent of walking into an alley and realizing this was where his obituary would get written.

Oh, Elijah did not like the flare of sass in Percy’s eyes. They were definitely leaving in pieces. Percy snatched his hand and began to walk so fast Elijah’s head snapped back. They ended up at the counter, sliding onto stools.

“Hey, handsome,” Percy called out to the bartender as he smacked the countertop. “Two Cosmos, and do you know where Santiago is? We’re supposed to meet him here.” He turned toward Elijah. “If we’re about to get devoured, this bitch is going to enjoy the ride.”

This was not the moment for Percy to have a young-life crisis. He’d just ordered Cosmos in a whiskey-soaked murder tavern.

Elijah glanced at the bartender and was positive they would be devoured. The guy was downright gorgeous, if lethal could be considered sexy. All dark and dangerous looks, chiseled jawline, and a commanding presence that exuded confidence and demanded your immediate submission.

He strode their way, taking his time, his gaze sliding over them one at a time.

Why did Elijah have the feeling the guy was sizing them up to figure out if they would both fit in the trunk of his car at the same time?

Part of Elijah wanted to smack Percy for catching the man’s attention.

Dark, tousled hair fell stylishly over his forehead, emphasizing his chiseled cheekbones and piercing gaze. The intensity of his light brown eyes captivated Elijah, making it impossible to look away.

The bartender bit his bottom lip, somehow making the gesture sensual instead of annoying. The gas fumes outside must have killed brain cells because the guy drew out a flush of heat inside Elijah that spread all the way to his fingertips.

Elijah was freaking blushing at a man who looked like a straight-up killer. But god help him, when the man crooked his finger, Elijah’s dumbass rose from his stool and bent over the counter. The room felt smaller as the stranger leaned in, his lips hovering just shy of Elijah’s ear. His voice was a slow slide, sinking deep, sending fire racing through Elijah’s veins.

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