Page 60 of Sweet Violence
"So do it," Gunn said with a shrug, as if it was that simple.
I slid a narrowed look at my massive companion. "You're not getting the hard choice part, are you?"
Gunn rolled his eyes. His very, very creepy eyes. His pupils were pure white, and the sclera was full black rather than white. Very inhuman. As if I needed another reminder that I was far from Earth.
"Whining about it isn't going to make the decision for you," Gunn said, in an unwanted burst of wisdom. I narrowed my eyes further. "Just get on with it, and then the choice will be made."
But it was so final. There'd never be any walking away from this, never be a way out. I'd have to beall inwith these guys for life.4This wasn't a mere bridge between all the soft, squishy bits that made us who we were. Bridges could be rigged with dynamite. But I'd forever carry a piece of Dev inside me.
"Nah," I said, shaking my head. "I'm gonna keep complaining about it."
On that note, I increased my speed, the jar rattling against a knife inside my bag, and plunged into the solid black line of trees.
19
Fun fact: the few mosquitos who'd come for us in the grassy field were mere scouts for the nightmarish army of them that lived in the forest. I'd been bitten so many times, I was starting to miss the chafing burn of sand. And that was insanity in itself.
"How much longer?" Gunn complained in a gravelly voice, slanting a pissy look in my direction.
"It's your realm, buddy—how should I know?" I replied, throwing a matching pissy look at the big, purple whinge-bag.
"You're the one with the map," he groused, kicking the knobbled root of a tree we passed.
"How am I supposed to—" I began.
My mouth dropped open when the dark root he kicked lashed out, grabbing Gunn by the ankle and lifting him ten feet into the air.
Poor guy, he flailed his hands, roaring with obvious terror. I should probably help him.
A strange warmth pulled behind my ribs, and for a second I panicked thatImade the root evil1but then two familiar figures stepped out of the shadows of the towering tree.
Joseph had one hand tucked in the pocket of his long, billowing cloak, the hood pulled over his head and his tall, wickedly sharp scythe casually in his other hand. Beside him, X walked with his eyes fixed on Gunn's flailing body and his pale, inked hands strangely rigid, his index finger making a twirling motion in the air that corresponded with poor Gunn's movements.
"How are you doing that?" I demanded, stalking over to the bastards and fighting the impulse to throw my arms around both of them.
Joseph took the initiative so I didn't have to, squeezing me against him and lifting my feet off the ground, a soft kiss landing on my lips.
"I need to sex to survive," X replied, not taking his eyes off Gunn, an eerie glimmer of violence in his deep blue glare. "But it gives me more than sustenance. I get magic if the lust is particularly strong."
Huh. That explained how he cleaned up the body I killed in their garden.
"What else can you do other than levitating people with poor, tortured tree roots?"
"A great deal," X replied in a hiss, not sounding like himself.
I kissed Joseph and strained against his cuddly arms until he set my feet on the ground. Then, I marched over to my lilac-haired psycho incubus.
"Put down Mr. Guard. He's a grouchy pain in the ass, but he doesn't deserve death by tree root."
"He looked at you," X seethed, his chest rising and falling fast, straining the tight-fitting oxblood jacket he wore. Tension was wound up in his body, his shoulders up by his ears. Not a single muscle flickered across his body when I laid my hands on his chest, attempting to push him back.
"A lot of people look at me; it doesn't mean they should all be killed."
"Yes, they should," he hissed, his eyes alight with insanity. "They shouldallbe dead; no one looks at my little morsel.No one but me."
"And?" Joseph prompted, sounding unworried about the flying purple guard.
"And your mates," X ground out, the words like gravel in his throat.
