Page 79 of Princes of Carnage

He drops his head, tilting my face up even more, and I can feel his breath against my lips. The smell of whiskey is almost completely drowned out by the smell of him, sandalwood and citrus, something that’s becoming so familiar to me.

“Because,” he breathes, “if you don’t leave right this goddamned second, I’m going to bend you over that bike and fuck you right here. Every single consequence be damned.”

My breath stutters in my throat at the dark promise in his tone. It’s not an idle threat. Everything about him— from the look in his eyes to the way his grip tightens on my hair—makes it clear that he’s not joking.

He’ll bend me over and fuck me right in front of his gang’s clubhouse.

With everyone inside.

Nico, especially.

And even knowing that, I’m so tempted to stay. To walk straight into the flames and let myself burn. The tension between us has been growing and shifting ever since he and the others moved into my house, and the reckless part of me wants to find out what will happen when it finally snaps.

The moment lingers, and Atlas releases his grip on my hair but doesn’t step back. He’s leaving it up to me.

Even though part of me is screaming that I should stay, I take a deep breath and move past him. I don’t turn back to see if he’s watching as I get on my bike and rev the engine, then gun it away from the clubhouse.

The cool wind whips past me as I ride away, and it feels good against my heated skin.

It does nothing for the fire in my veins though, which burns through me all the way home.

25

KILLIAN

Quinn is agitated.

She has been for the past few days, and it’s been bothering me. It’s not hard to tell when she’s in a bad mood, and that’s not just because I’m attuned to the smallest shifts in her expression that betray her emotions after all this time of following her.

She scowls more often, muttering under her breath to herself, too low for me to hear what she’s saying, but clearly upset about something.

The issue is, I don’t know what caused this.

It could be any number of things, from the irritation she feels at being married to Nico, to having us in her house, to not having very many leads when it comes to who’s been targeting our gangs.

But all of those things have been constant for the last couple of weeks. This frustration seems… new.

It doesn’t stop her from doing her job though. With our people pairing up for jobs, having each other’s backs and providing backup across territories, the rest of us are trying to dig up more information about who might be trying to make a name for themselves in Detroit.

She and I head out together one afternoon to do some canvassing, questioning various informants and eyes on the street—people that either Carnage or Enigma have connections with. Nico and Atlas didn’t turn up much when they asked around right after the wedding, so we’re trying again.

If anyone is surprised to see the two of us working together, none of them are stupid enough to say so. They mostly deal with Quinn, answering her questions while I stand behind her. I don’t speak, leaving the talking up to her, but I’m sure my presence inspires them to tell her the truth.

Teamwork.

“Nah, I ain’t seen nothin’ but the usual crowd,” a man named Pace tells her, brushing his greasy hair back from his forehead. “A couple of low-level drug dealers, maybe, but they looked like they were barely out of high school. Selling Valium they stole from their moms or some shit.”

“And you haven’t heard anything? Anyone asking questions that seem suspicious, or rumors of a new crew running around?”

Pace shakes his head. “Nah.”

Quinn’s lips tighten just a little at the corners, which I know she does when she’s trying not to scowl. “Alright. If you hear anything, let us know. Either Nico or me.”

Pace nods, and we leave him on the bus stop bench where we found him, smoking a cigarette and humming to himself.

“Another fucking dead end,” Quinn mutters once we’re out of earshot. She shoots me a sideways look, lifting a brow. “Feel free to jump in anytime, by the way. I know you’re apparently allergic to talking to me, but I asked Nico, and he said you’re not a mute. So if you have questions you want to ask these people, have at it.”

There’s an almost teasing tone to her voice, and it makes a smirk tug at my lips as I grunt softly under my breath in response.

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