Page 8 of Resisted

Boyce, Vince, and I all stared at each other for an intense second before we shouted, “Not it!” at once.

“Three someones need to make cookies with me,” she clarified.

“Belladonna, we don’t even know how to make cookies,” I said, but really, after being alive for as long as we had, we’d all learned. Minus Vince, who would probably lace them with poison anyway.

“Boyce makes cookies.” Of course she would remember that. Boyce and his fucking sweet tooth could live off cookies.

“Bell,” Boyce said, “those aren’t decorating cookies, those are coffee dunking cookies. Surely you know the difference.”

“There is no difference.” Damn if she wasn’t right, though.

“What if we do it next week?” Vince added.

“Vincent, you and I both know you will be out of town next week, and who knows when you will be back. Plus, Christmas is two days away. I need cookies for Santa.”

Well, fuck if you didn’t see three murderous shifters all deflate and go soft at once. We forgot sometimes how naïve people in this world could be. Envied it really. The fact that she still believed in Santa Claus at nine was too innocent for any of us to ruin. I knew it, and they knew it.

“One batch then.” Vince sighed. He would deny it until the day he died, but he always had a soft spot for this girl. “And stop calling me Vincent.”

“Never.”

“Silas. Deal with your sister,” Vince muttered as he grabbed a plastic bag and unloaded it. Sister? Fuck, but I hadn’t even thought of her like that until now. I still saw her as the little baby we rescued, still replayed the scene moment by moment, trying to figure out where we had gone wrong. What had we done that had cost us the life of the one that should have been ours?

She move to Vince’s side and began organizing the items he was taking out. We might have gone overboard, but I hadn’t been sure what supplies they actually had and I didn’t want to go back out to the store for something as measly as sprinkles or vanilla. Boyce walked to the oven, flipping it on to preheat.

“Looks like you win, kid. How could we say no to Santa Claus?”

“That’s what Mom said too.” She smirked. A growl slipped through my lips and everyone looked at me, but I ignored them. It was just like my mother to set me up and trap me into making cookies. I could be enjoying one of my rare days off, consuming alcohol and going balls deep in some hot blonde. Instead, I was searching for star- and tree-shaped dough cutters while my subpack measured sugar. How was this even our lives?

“I think Vincent should roll it out for me, he’s definitely the strongest.” I glanced over just as she gave his bicep a little squeeze.

Oh no, no, no. Wasn’t it too early in our lives for this stage? I wasn’t ready for it. She was still the two-year-old we’d found stuck in her puppy form, the one I’d had to painfully force to shift into a human body. I’d hated doing it and guilt still rode me over it, but I’d had no choice either. If she’d been raised in her wolf form, she might’ve never learned to act like a human. Though even now, the acting like a human was still questionable when it came to the little manipulator.

I cleared my throat “I’ll roll it out.”

“You’re pretty strong too.” She sighed like my offer of help was such an inconvenience. “When are you getting your tattoos, Silas?”

Boyce silently laughed, his mind definitely figuring out where this conversation was heading. “I’m not.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“I’ve got tattoos!” Boyce volunteered before winking at her. “Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

“You most definitely will not show her,” I hissed.

“I’ve got piercings too,” Boyce continued.

“Like your ears?” Bella asked excitedly. I most definitely would kill Boyce one day. There was no question about if, only when. When would I kill him?

“Or something.” He smirked.

“Can I see?” She jumped up and down excitedly.

“No!” Both Vince and I shouted together.

Bella visibly deflated. Her little shoulders drooped as she looked at us all with sad eyes. Oh yeah, he was a fucking dead man for forcing us to take away her happiness. What the hell was his problem? Fun and games aside, he should fucking know better than to even mention his fucking piercing.

I leaned over the mixer. “Looks like that’s ready to roll out.”

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