Page 35 of Awry
He nods back, reaching for it without stepping over the threshold.
The impostor watches the entire exchange.Intently.I get the sense she always looks focused like that, but I wonder — because I’m a fucking idiot — what it takes to hold her attention, to make her see nothing but me —
“You need anything back from in here?”Grinder asks her.Referring to the bundle of towels and what I assume is more clothing.“Or can I take care of it all?”
She shakes her head, offering him a slight smile in thanks.
He grunts, pleased.
It’s easier to burn everything, or to have Pinky melt it, than clean and return it.Scrubbing blood and DNA is bad enough, but removing all traces of essence residual is near impossible.And if they dragged Breaker’s DNA into the car, then into the motel, it’ll connect them to the scene on the beach.Assuming anyone bothers to look for the asshole.
The fact that Chains is still unaccounted for bothers me.I resist the urge to pull out my phone and check into it.
“This too, I guess?”Presh says, passing fake Zaya a phone.
It’s a newer model than my own.Not available yet as far as I know.And even though I’m not typically a tech guy, I’m instantly jealous.
Yes, apparently I’m all over the fucking place today.
The impostor accepts the phone, tucking it in the pocket of her long skirt.The device isn’t remotely heavy, but even cinched with a drawstring, the skirt is way too big on her, so it sags at the side, revealing her sharp-edged hipbone.
There is no fucking way my cock should twitch at the sight.At that sliver of skin.
She’s too skinny.Sickly, even.She’s not remotely my type.Though admittedly, that’s a deliberate choice— a revulsion— after losing my soul-bound mate thirteen years ago.
The impostor is playing some long con with me, with Presh, and my brothers.
But my cock fucking twitches at a tiny glimpse of fucking skin.
I look away.
“Rath has your phone number,” Presh is saying.“As soon as I get a new phone, I’ll text you.”
I’m pretty sure I’ve missed some of the conversation.
“I’d like that,” Zaya murmurs.She’s got those amazing violet eyes trained on my sister.Again.As if she adores her or something.
I rub my chest, dropping my hand quickly when I catch myself doing so.
“Come.Let Doc check you,” I say gruffly, realizing I’ve lost the fucking thread.
Zephyr slips into the room past me, carrying her smaller med kit, as if she’s been hanging on my every word.She’s already smiling at Presh.They’ve met a couple of times, I think.Her reddish-gold hair is tied back in a low ponytail, and her leathers are as skintight as they can be while still staying flexible.Like my own.
Doc Z’s been the Outcast medic for five or so years, and she’s two or three years older than me.I should probably know that for certain.I seethe internally as she turns her dark topaz eyes and slight smile to take in the impostor.Doc is the taller, though not by much.And she’s got all the curves.Lush, even.
I can’t remember the last time she crawled into my bed, but for one aching moment, I hope Zaya can’t smell me on her.
No.Not smell.Zaya isn’t a shifter.She sensesotherthings.
But the impostor isn’t Zaya.
So none of that shit matters.
I look away again, only to find Presh watching me, her brow all crinkled in a frown.I pull out my phone, checking it for messages that I would have already felt come in.
Doc corrals Presh back to the bed, setting her kit to the side and opening it.It’s some sort of mage brew or elixir that she pulls out first, all wax-and-cork stoppered and glowing deep pink.I know how expensive it is the moment she breaks the seal and I scent it.
Then she passes the fucking brew to Zaya, who’s still hovering.Standing upright, but looking as if maybe she doesn’t have another step in her.
