Page 5 of Little Bunny

Elijah’s eyes burned, tears slipping free before he could blink them back. He swiped them away, nodding stiffly, only to realize Matias still had a firm grip on his arm.

He slid an arm around Elijah, steering him toward a chair like he was some fragile thing in need of handling. Heat radiated off the guy, but Elijah yanked away, refusing to be led anywhere. Whatever concern he was pretending to show now didn’t erase the power move he’d pulled minutes ago.

Throat still on fire, Elijah sat—just not in the chair Matias tried to put him in.

Matias crouched in front of him, arms draped over one knee, hands loosely clasped. He smelled unfairly good—dark, earthy, something that made Elijah’s pulse stutter.

“You started this, conejito,” he murmured, voice like smoke and silk. “How about we end this mezquindad?”

Elijah blinked back more tears, silently cursing his own stupidity for trying to incinerate his own damn throat. “I have no clue what you’re saying.” For all he knew, Matias could be suggesting they take out everyone in the bar. Wouldn’t be too surprising since he did have killer looks.

A small, private smile played at Matias’s lips, disarming and entirely too affectionate.

“I suggested, more or less, that we call a truce.” He cocked his head slightly. “¿Qué hace un conejo asustadizo en una guarida de lobos?” What is a scared bunny doing in a den of wolves?

Deep inhale, long exhale. Do not turn into a missing poster. “What. Did. You. Say?”

A hint of teeth flashed before his smirk melted into something softer, something far too inviting. “Do we have a deal?”

Elijah’s gaze dropped to the hand Matias held out. A thought came to mind. If Elijah touched those long, capable fingers, he would never be the same again. He had no idea why he felt that way but decided to err on the side of caution.

“We can be civil.” Leaning a little farther back, Elijah searched his face—his strong jaw, sensual lips, aquiline nose, and those sultry brown eyes.

Matias had the thickest, prettiest lashes he’d ever seen. They framed his eyes in a way that made them even more captivating, drawing attention to every slow blink and lingering glance.

After a beat, he curled his fingers in then pulled his hand away. This close, Elijah saw the imperceptible glint of disappointment in the man’s eyes.

Too freaking bad.

Trent had taught him a valuable lesson about trusting too easily, a lesson that just might have saved Elijah in that moment. There was something about Matias that made you want to trust him, to lean into his dominance and hand over control.

And it shocked Elijah just how hard it was to resist.

“Here.” Percy shoved his Cosmo toward Elijah, breaking whatever spell he’d been falling under. “That should clear your windpipe.”

Without thinking, Elijah took a large swallow. Bourbon was not his drink of choice. His throat still felt raw, like he’d swallowed gasoline then tossed a match down the hatch.

Another valuable lesson learned. Do not try to act macho with a drink meant to be sipped.

Percy reached for his martini glass, but Elijah downed the rest of the drink. One of Matias’s thick brows arched as he smirked. Elijah needed to get away from this walking danger sign.

“I’m good.” He stood too fast. His head swam. He dropped back down, nearly missing the chair directly behind him. Jesus. That bourbon had a delayed punch.

Matias grabbed his hips, holding Elijah steady before he hit the floor.

“Ligero.” Lightweight. Matias softly chuckled, Santiago smirking behind him.

“What did you call me?” Elijah narrowed his eyes, tired of this sexy prick talking shit to him in another language. “If you’re going to insult me, make sure I can at least understand what you’re saying to me.”

“Sit at the bar.” Matias winked. “I’ll make your Cosmopolitan, conejito.”

Elijah’s gaze swung toward Santiago. “What does that word mean?” he demanded.

The bastard’s smirk turned into a full-blown smile, making his green eyes sparkle. “Are you still up for a game of pool, or do you need to sit for an hour or two?”

If he wasn’t so massive, Elijah might have smacked his arm. But his biceps could’ve been considered lethal weapons. Besides, he’d saved Percy and Macey on more than one occasion, so Elijah let the teasing slide.

Instead, Elijah pulled out his phone, determined to look the word up and find out exactly what Matias kept calling him. But his fingers froze when he saw the text from Trent.

---