Page 96 of Shades of Silver City

Godric barks a laugh. I’m glad he’s able to heal faster than regular humans. It’s probably why he’s alive despite losing so much blood last night.

“You like her.”

I grunt.

“You really like her.” He snickers again. The only reason I let him tease me is because I’m so damn happy he’s up and fine. “When’s the last time you got laid, brother?”

“You know I don’t sleep around,” I growl.

“It’s fun. You should try it.”

“I’m not like you.”

“Ah, that’s right. You need connection and love and all the fluffy feelings to get off.” I elbow him, and he stifles a laugh. “Do you cry and tell your dick I love you when you masturbate?”

“Shut the hell up, Godric.”

“Holy shit, I got you. I finally got you riled up. She is your weakness.”

“Not all of us lead with our dicks,” I mutter. “Some of us actually have brains and morals.”

Godric coughs, then chuckles. “You know, both your pulses skyrocket around each other.”

“Have you considered maybe it’s because I’m stressed out?”

“Is that what they call aroused these days?”

“Good Gods,” I mutter. “Glad you’re feeling better, but you’re pissing me off. Yes, I like Tasia. Now leave it alone.”

Godric snickers. “That’s the first honest statement out of your mouth today.”

Once again, he’s trying to provoke me. Normally, it doesn’t bother me, but today my self-control is weak. Yesterday’s attack roused a dormant fury inside me. I’m sick of always doing the right thing only to end up losing the people I care about.

If something were to happen to Godric…or Tasia…

“You still don’t remember anything?” I ask, switching to a more comfortable conversation.

Godric grunts. “Nothing new. Only what I told you. Heard the door open. Thought it was you or Tasia coming back. The room went dark. Woke up at Doc’s.”

“You didn’t hear or see anything else out of the ordinary?”

“Like I said, nothing.”

Soon, we reach the end of a tunnel, and I push open a metal storm door. Muffled cries fill the dark space. I reach around, searching for the string I know dangles above. When my fingers brush against it, I give a tug, and dim light washes over the room. Two men, bound and gagged, sit in the middle of the space.

The foul stench of sewage assaults my nose. One of them has apparently soiled himself. Without their Scout uniforms, they look weak and pitiful. They sit there glaring at us in nothing but their briefs. Neither is particularly built, and both have pale skin, as if they never see the sun out of uniform.

“Pathetic,” Godric mumbles. He steps toward one of the men, ripping the gag out of his mouth.

The man immediately spits, and Godric backhands him, drawing blood.

Bending forward, Godric says, “Tell me your name.”

“Roman,” the man says, dazed.

“And your partner?”

“Paul.”

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