Page 24 of The Vipers and Their Vendetta

“I can do it?—”

“Now, Venom,” I command, leaving no room for disrespecting me in my tone.

“You’re all a bunch of fucking sociopaths,” she mutters but heads to the bathroom. “I’m only doing this so I can have some peace and quiet, but then you’re out of here.” Her words trail after her, falling behind her as she walks.

I wonder which way she’s swaying with regard to believing the rumors about Reagan. Is she starting to have doubts now? I assume she must be if she did that with Zane, for fuck’s sake.

Or maybe she’s simply here for other reasons? Perhaps she changed her mind about running to come back here and keep digging?

We still haven’t questioned her about her interest in Reagan. Who is this girl to her? I know we’ll need to, but tonight has all been about making sure she’s safe. There’ll be plenty of time for questioning her tomorrow. Plus, if we start tonight, something tells me we might never see her again if the conversation goes badly, and I want as long as I can get before she ignores me for good.

Vani goes to slam the bathroom door behind her, shutting me out, but I jam my foot in the gap and prevent her from doing so.

“I told you already, I’m helping.”

“I don’t need your help.”

I cock an eyebrow. “You going to wash your hair with that arm?”

She blinks down at her bandaged arm as though she’d completely forgotten about it. “Shit.” She lets out a long breath. “Fine. But I’m keeping my underwear on.”‘

“No, you’re not. I’ve seen every inch of you already. I’ve fucking been inside you, Vani. There’s no point in keeping your underwear on.” I sigh. “You’re pissed at us, I get it, but what you heard isn’t true. More importantly, you’re injured. You need help. First, do you have any plastic wrap? That bandage shouldn’t get wet. I can wrap it if you have anything.”

Her jaw flexes as she wrestles with her decision. “Ugh, you’re so annoying. I don’t, but I do have a plastic bag in my desk.” She points to the bedroom. “Top drawer, it has my pens and things in there, and there’s a bag that will maybe work.”

I head to the drawer and slide it open. Sure enough, I see the bag, the kind you put lunch in or leftovers for the freezer. I rip the bottom out of it, so there are two holes, and grab some tape.I place the supplies on the side then reach to the bottom of my t-shirt and drag it up over my head.

“Now what are you doing?” she exclaims.

“I’m not going to get my clothes wet.”

My cock is already at half-mast.

She carefully starts to remove her clothes but winces as she moves her arm, so I step in to help her. She doesn’t protest this time and allows me to carefully slide her t-shirt over her head and down her injured arm. It should probably be looked at by a medical professional sometime soon. Fuck only knows what those asshole Preachers have put on there. They did do a good job of bandaging her up, though.

“Wait a minute.” I grab the things I brought into the room and slide the bag over her arm before taping it in place. “There. Hold it out of the shower as much as you can, but this will stop it getting wet from any splashes.”

Her face softens a little; it’s a tiny chink, but I’ll take it.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice low.

I turn on the shower, and steam quickly fills the room. Vani is in only her bra and matching lace panties. She turns her back on me and unclips her bra and then rolls down her panties. She kicks them away and steps into the shower, holding her bandaged arm out of the flow.

With a smile, I rid myself of the rest of my clothes and follow her in. The sight of her naked ass has put me from half-mast to fully erect, and I wonder what her reaction will be if I jam my cock into the base of her spine.

But I find my gaze drifting over the rest of her naked, and now wet, skin. She’s covered in bruises and grazes from the accident, and my cock deflates a little. Fuck. I hate that she’s hurt and that she got hurt running away from us.

It’s not even as though this shit is our fault. Yeah, we’ve got a bad reputation, but we didn’t do anything to Reagan. She wasjust seen around us, that’s all, and that was enough to spark rumors.

I hope the same thing doesn’t happen to Vani.

The idea sparks another volley of unwanted thoughts. What if the accident that happened to Reagan happens to Vani? After all, the official line is that Reagan jumped from the top of the tower, but no one actually knows. There are no cameras up there, and no one saw anything, apart from her landing on my fucking car.

Vani’s sweet voice meets my ears. “I thought you were going to wash my hair.”

She still has her back to me. The water in her hair has straightened her curls, and it makes her hair even longer, dragging it down her spine, so it stops just above the cleft of her ass. My hands automatically go to her wide hips, tracing their curves as though I’m smoothing clay on a model of a goddess.

My cock jumps back to attention.

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