Page 71 of Princes of Carnage

As soon as Nico told me what they’d decided, I threw myself into the task of finding alternate routes for deliveries of goods, new drop points, the whole nine yards. My duty is to be the protector, the bodyguard, and I take that shit seriously—not just protecting Nico and Killian, but our entire crew. Now that Carnage members will be pairing up with Enigma members for jobs, and vice versa, I’ve needed to learn more about Enigma territory as well.

Which, unfortunately, has meant I’ve had to spend a fair amount of time with Quinn.

I hate it.

I went from disliking her to grudgingly respecting her, and lately, that respect has started to turn into something else entirely. Something I shouldn’t fucking feel.

I hate that every time we bend over a map together, piecing together safe routes that cross over from our territory to hers, her sweet jasmine scent invades my nose. I hate that when she looks up at me, I can’t help but search for that spark I sometimes see in her silvery gray eyes. I hate how it reminds me of that night we sat on the couch together, and how fucking… easy it was to be with her.

Because I’m not with her.

She’s not mine.

So I keep our discussions as short and curt as possible, my tone always cool and my shoulder muscles aching from how stiff they are. And anytime we don’t absolutely have to be talking, I avoid her as much as I can—which is a lot easier said than done, when we live in the same goddamn house.

In my free time, I pore over every bit of information we have about the attacks on both Carnage and Enigma, searching for any clue that will lead us closer to finding out who’s been working against us.

I want to find this fucker, whoever the hell he is.

I want to end this. All of it.

Nico seems to think that we can navigate this alliance and come out in a position that benefits Carnage. He has at least two ways in mind that we can stand to gain here, but I don’t like any of it. I didn’t like it from the start, and I made that known, but arguing with my brother when he’s got his mind made up is a waste of time. He’s stubborn and headstrong, and I owe him too much not to stand by his side.

Even when it’s probably a bad idea.

The best I can do now is work as hard as I can to make this be over as soon as possible.

It’s late in the afternoon about a week after the brawl when I take a break from staring at maps and grainy security footage that we’ve managed to get our hands on, putting aside the notes I’ve been compiling and going downstairs. I need to get a snack or at least stretch for a bit, since I’ve been hunched over the desk in my room for the last few hours.

But as I reach the last step and glance into the living room, I catch sight of Quinn, bent over in tight fitting clothes, doing yoga in the middle of the floor.

I stop in my tracks for a moment, staring at her. She has good form, her body moving through the motions with ease and confidence, holding the poses gracefully. Her form-fitting clothes show off the fact that she’s got some muscle on her willowy build, and that even if she’s shorter than us and more slight, there’s power in her.

I already knew that from watching her fight, and from seeing her naked in the dressing room that day, but it’s a different thing to see it up close like this.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

That thought rises up in my mind before I can stop it, my entire body reacting to the sight of her.

I’ve been rooted to the spot for too long, because Quinn notices me standing there. She turns her head and raises an eyebrow, not breaking her pose. Her arms don’t even wobble.

“Do you need something?” she asks, a smirk pulling at her full lips.

I rip my gaze away from her, glaring at the wall instead.

“I don’t need anything,” I mutter under my breath, then stalk away before she can reply.

I head into the kitchen and yank open the fridge, but just being in here reminds me of a week ago, when she was in here cooking, moving around the kitchen with confidence as she put a meal together. It makes me think of the way she licked her lips as she gazed up at me, our bodies only inches apart. And then the sound of her fucking Nico.

The noises she made were so fucking distracting that I started cooking, finishing the meal she had started, just to give myself something to do. I don’t know why I felt the need to make sure she had something to eat, since it was none of my business. I don’t know why I felt a strange sort of satisfaction as I watched her devour the pasta I made for her later that night.

I don’t know why I wanted to pull her closer to me on the couch, to bury my face in her hair and inhale deeply.

She still smelled like sex when she came downstairs.

The fridge door slams shut as I let it go. Suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore.

From the living room, I hear Quinn exhale slowly, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see her shifting into another position through the open doorway. The image of her in downward dog fills my head, and I know I can’t be here for this. I’m aware of all the reasons Nico wanted us to move in with her, to share her space, but right now it feels too confining.

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