Page 33 of Fangs
“Lot of this nothin’ seems to happen to you.”
He’d rolled his sleeves up, revealing part of the tattoo that went down to his wrists, but even in the better light of the cabin, I still couldn’t figure out what it was.
“You hungry? We saved your sandwich.”
Maybe if I ignored him, he’d shut up. For a minute, I thought it worked.
“You know what’s weird? I had this big gash in my leg from somethin’ in the river, but when Sable went to stitch it up, it was gone.”
I focused on breathing evenly.Don’t react. Don’t react.
“Crazy, right?”
“What’s your tattoo mean?” I blurted out the first question I could think of to change the subject, and the grin that crossed his face made me immediately regret it.
“Oh, is that what you were lookin’ at in the cave? My tattoo?”
I glared at him, hating the heat rising in my cheeks.
He chuckled and leaned slightly toward me. “It means you shouldn’t get tattooed when you’re shitfaced.”
I glanced back down at his forearm, my brow furrowing as I studied the meandering black ink covering his skin.
“If you want me to take my shirt off again so you can see the whole thing, all you gotta do is ask,” he teased, looking far too pleased with himself.
“When are we leaving?” I asked, attempting to ignore him and change the subject.
He paused but then said, “Not sure yet.”
His tone was casual—too casual. I remembered the conversation I’d overheard about baits and positions, and my stomach twisted again with fear. He smiled when I made eye contact, his eyes crinkling, but I couldn’t read him, which made me more nervous.
“Well, if you’re not gonna eat something, you should at least drink something.”
He leaned forward, snagged a battered metal water bottle from the floor, and handed it to me. I took it and twisted off the lid, frowning at how my hands shook.
“How you gonna make another escape attempt if you don’t eat?”
“What are we waiting for?” I asked, my voice flat.
“You in a hurry to leave all of a sudden? Thought you didn’t want to go back to Carth.”
I didn’t miss that he kept dodging my actual question. I took a final drink of water and handed him the bottle before sliding down into my corner again and resting my head on the arm of the couch.
“That does not look comfortable,” Lee remarked.
I closed my eyes.
“You know, you are not what I expected.”
Don’t ask. Just ignore him. Don’t?—
“I don’t even know what Iwasexpecting. Someone a lot scarier looking? Meaner? Taller? A lot stabbier? Less pretty?”
I opened my eyes to see him grinning again. “Give me a knife, and I’d be happy to stab you,” I muttered darkly.
“Awww, you soundjustlike your brother.”
I glared, but before I could speak, the door abruptly opened, and Sable entered. He was wearing light tactical gear, and snowflakes clung to his long blond hair. His face was grave, and he was carrying a huge gun with a long scope.
