Page 9 of Grave Curse

“I want to hear more about Malfoy.” As Tyr spoke, he dipped once more into the first-aid kit. “What’s he look like?”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is Malfoy distracting to you?”

Yep. He was totally trying to distract me. “He’s good-looking from a regular-guy-from-the-block kind of way.” I kept my hand relaxed as he reached for it, mentally girding myself for what was to come. “Shaved head, probably to deal with a thinning or lost hairline, dark eyes, goatee, gauges in both ears, and lots and lots of tats that seem to be dragon-related. Maybe he’s a closet D and D fan.” The glue went on, and boy howdy, he hadn’t been kidding. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he just poured acidinto my wound. Grimly I fought to keep my voice light. “He could probably do with a Pilates class every once in a while, but then again so could I. I’d like to have a better butt, and lady abs are so hot in my opinion.”

“Your opinion sucks. I like my women soft and delicate and feeling like a damn woman, not like Zee or Romeo.”

Despite the pain I laughed, because the two Gravediggers he’d mentioned were so ripped they could have doubled as male swimwear models. “Who knows? Maybe that could be my next date with Draco—couples Pilates.”

“Oh yeah, definitely make that suggestion to him, because that’s what every man wants to hear from you—you’re too soft and doughy for me, let’s work out.” He unwrapped several butterfly bandages and placed them, then grabbed for a roll of sterile gauze. “What a date to remember.”

“Okay, smartass, so what kind of date do you normally go on?” Not that I cared.

“I don’t go on dates.”

“You don’t? Did you take some weird vow of celibacy that I don’t know about?”

He snorted. “I don’t go on dates, Snap, because I don’t have to.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m the leader of the fucking Gravediggers,” he said as if the answer was obvious. As he spoke, he began wrapping up my hand like a mummy, his eyes on his work. “If I feel like fucking, I go into the Clubhouse to see if there’s any easy-fuck club girl around. If she makes my dick twitch I grab her, find a private corner and bang her like my own personal drum. Who needs to go through all that phony bullshit of going out to an expensive restaurant, making small talk and pretending you’re there because you want to get to know a bitch, when all you really want is to get in her pants? It's not worth it.”

“It’s not worth it.” I had to repeat the phrase to myself in order to fully grasp the enormity of his arrogance. When I did, I was genuinely sorry I’d wasted my breath. Thank goodness I was smart enough to hate this man and all his toxic bullshit. “It’s a good thing I’m the only one around to hear you say that.”

He looked up from cutting the gauze. “Why’s that?”

“When you sayit’s not worth it, what you’re actually saying isshe’s not worth it. She’s just a void to stick your dick into, because you’re bored or horny or stressed out. There’s no emotion behind it, no basic human-to-human connection. It’s just… fucking.”

“So what’s wrong with that?” he wanted to know, and for just a second I could have sworn this devil of a man was deliberately goading me. “Jealous?”

I stared at him, baffled. “Of living an empty life devoid of any emotional meaning? No one would be jealous of that, Tyr, trust me on this.”

For a second his mouth tightened, as if my response irritated him. “Look, it’s not that deep, all right? The way I look at it, fucking has nothing to do with emotions or human-to-human connections. It’s a basic drive, like eating or sleeping. Women went and complicated the shit out of it by attaching emotions to it, but ask any man and he’ll tell you the same thing. If he’s jumping through the hoops of dating and getting to know a woman, all he really wants to do is pump her and dump her.”

Oh God, I hated this guy. “Not every man is a dick like you, Tyr. I mean, I know you have no soul and your heart is nothing but a cold black stone, and maybe you have a right to be that way. We’re all products of our environment to a certain extent, and God knows both your old man and your uncle H were cut from the same monstrous cloth, so maybe it’s no surprise you’ve turned into a monster yourself—”

“Don’t you compare me to them.” The harshness in his voice cut through my words like a cleaver, and for a moment his expression was downright murderous. “Don’t you ever fucking do that, Ginger. Goddamn it, when are you going to get it through your head that I’m not like them?”

“The point I’m trying to make,” I went on relentlessly, because when a god scowled at you, the best thing to do was scowl back twice as hard so they wouldn’t know how freaked you were, “is that not every man looks at women the way you do. Sure, you’re king of the Gravediggers, and you have all the meaningless, rando pussy you could ever want. Good for you. But most men in the real world don’t think it’sphony bullshitto go out on dates so they can get to know a woman better.”

“Jesus.” The impatience in his tone cut like a knife, ticking me off all the more. With controlled violence he tore some medical tape off a roll and secured it to the dressing wrapped around my hand. “You think Malfoy is genuinely into all that hearts-and-flowers shit, and not about banging you?”

“For the last time his name is Draco, and I guarantee you that if he ever talked about faking his way through the process of dating me just so he could, as you put it, pump me and dump me, I’d have his balls in my freezer faster than he could sayeunuch.”

“Then you’d best make room in your freezer, because when that guy looks at you, you can bet all he sees is some pussy he can buy with a few nice meals and the price of a movie.”

The words seemed to echo in the small room, taunting me, cutting me with their vicious, poisoned edges. Each word hurt more than the wound on my hand, bleeding me out on the inside until dots swam before my eyes. I realized I was holding my breath in the hope of containing the hurt, so I let it out on a dangerous hiss, and I was on my feet without any memory of how I got there.

“Some pussy he can buy?” I repeated with a rush of fury so immense it made my head swim. “Jesus, I knew you didn’t think much of me—you’ve made that clear time and again throughout our lives. But now you find it unimaginable that every other man on the planet would have any interest in me other than being apump-and-dumpskank who can be bought with a fucking dinner and a movie?”

“Whoa, I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my damn mouth.”

“That’sexactlywhat you said.”

“No—”

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