Page 133 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

“You’re more observant than I’d like to give credit for,” Theo notes. “Best not prove my prediction of you is correct.”

“And if it is?” I dare to wonder.

“I wish Matteo nothing but good luck,” he teases and looks to his male friend. “Having a cunning woman at your side is a dangerous game, if you ask me.” He turns away. “Especially if he has every intention of marrying you.” He peers over to Sia.

“I have something to do. Let’s not delay.” He waves to us in the form of farewell, and Sia follows without batting an eye our way. It’s not until they’re gone and it’s just Matteo and me to summarize the whole interaction in my mind.

“They hate me,” I conclude.

“Out of that entire monologue of conversations, what makes you think they hate you?” Matteo questions in such a joyous voice. “They approve of you.”

“I don’t feel an ounce of that,” I express, noticing how much tension was in my muscles.

Matteo notices how I try to roll my shoulders when he takes my hand. “Here.” He pulls me forward, leading us to the various rose bushes until there’s a larger tree that gives good coverage. I’m assuming, despite this place being “safe” for us, we can never be too careful.

Personally, I’d rather be more cautious than naive.

Didn’t get me very far when I was.

“Lean your back against the tree, but lean your shoulders forward just slightly.”

“Okay?” I wonder what that’s going to do as he walks away from me to what I assume is the other side of the tree. “Does this position relieve tension?”

“No,” he amusingly admits, but I feel his hands not a second later as they land on my shoulders. “This hand position will, but I’ll warm you up to it.”

“This is an odd position,” I confess. “No one has given a massage like this. Where did you learn such a technique? Medical school?”

“No.” He answers me but is hesitant to continue.

“You don’t have to share if it’s bothersome,” I offer. “If it reminds you of something uncomfortable, we can pretend I didn’t ask.”

I expect to drop the subject, thanks to the followed silence as he pauses his hand movement. I don’t rush him into saying anything. We just stand there for a moment, my back against this little but tall tree with an array of purple and green petals, while I’m sure it looks like he’s hugging the natural canvas that adds to this unique scenery.

The floral aroma is extra strong now that we’re underneath the bloomed flowers.

“When I did a mission in Russia, to survive in the wilderness when dealing with fatigue, this is a way we did to relieve some stress on each other’s shoulders,” he confesses the embarking revelation. “The shotguns we were carrying are a lot heavier than the average and, when released, can injure the shoulder if not properly placed. It’s a gamble because, in those environments, there’s no time for positioning, as you can imagine.”

He must be suggesting how I reacted earlier.

“React and acknowledge the damage later,” I quietly comment.

“Mhmm.” His hands get moving again, giving me a gentle massage. He adds a bit of power here and there, and goodness, it’s fucking good. “This is the best position for it because one will be facing one side throughout the massage while the other can swiftly turn around and face the other direction. Both individuals can access East and West, so a general rule is to face the individual receiving the massage in the North since that seems to be the direction the enemy enjoys coming from.”

“Because when hunting their enemy, they go south first,” I suggest.

“Mhmm.” His tone seems a lot more lax, like with Keir and Theo. “There’s still a risk because my back is facing, but through the massage, we remain relatively quiet, so if any approaching footsteps are caught, we don’t miss it.”

“Were you forced to serve?” I wonder because no way did Domino do any type of military training. He’s too hot-headed to survive on the battlefield.

“I volunteered,” he admits. “After medical school. When I finished, I needed some sort of outlet. Regular competitions weren’t doing it for me. I needed a stronger high. One that wouldrid of some of the evil in this world. I figured the military would be the best place to tame my own demons and struggles.”

His fingers dig a little deeper, making me groan because it hits the perfect spot.

“You shouldn’t be so tense here,” he mutters. “When was the last time you had a massage?”

“I can’t even remember,” I sigh. “Self-care isn’t… well… a necessity, I guess?”

“You used to box.”

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