Page 66 of Cruel Games

Rich kids.“You grew up so spoiled; everyonejust gave you whatever you wanted, isn’t that right?” I felt my features twist into a sneer, and I couldn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. “Of course, I bet that had a lot to do with daddy dearest paying off his family to look the other way and ignore his human trafficking side business.”

Her hand snapped out and slapped me across the face before I could blink, stinging already sensitive skin bruised from the wind on my face from the ride tonight. Absently, almost without thought, my hand lifted, fingertips searching the heat of my skin for?—

For what?

Did I really expect anything else from such a willful woman? Someone capable of dealing in human lives?—

Must run in the family.

I bit my tongue that time, knowing when enough was enough, and when it was too much. There’d be time in the future, once she got comfortable, let down her guard, to show her the light, but I’d promised Coyote I wouldn’t spill this secret. I didn’t know why he cared so fucking much, but I owed him one.

My nose tingled as I swallowed my rage and grinned down at her, half my mouth turned up in a cunning smirk as I rubbed the jaw she’d slapped. “You’re a hell of a hitter, kitten,” I teased, tongue probing the inside of my cheek to see if I’d bitten the inside of my mouth.

“I hit harder when my hand is closed,” she said simply, ducking under my arm to move to the sink. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to do a treatment on my hair.”

I glanced down at my bloody clothes and frowned. “Uh, sorry, but that’ll have to wait. I’m covered in someone else’s blood and I need a shower.” My eyes cut to hers in the mirror, our reflections meeting each other’s glares with equal combativeness. “Your little hair treatment will have to wait.”

“I’m not leaving the room,” she said, touching the edge of her lips in the mirror, checking her face for imperfections.

She was calling my bluff. She really thought I had enough shame that I wouldn’t?—

“Suit yourself,” I conceded, closing the door behind me. She returned to searching through her sinkful of cosmetics, and I grinned wickedly as I started stripping in silence, letting my clothes fall to the floor with a loud rustling.

I could feel her eyes on me when I stepped out of my pants and padded quietly over to the shower, turning on the water as I stuck an arm in and tested the temperature.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked suddenly, her voice an octave higher than I’d heard it yet.

“Taking a shower. You’re welcome to leave if my nudity bothers you so much.”

She huffed in annoyance and refused to look up until the sound of the glass partition sliding open and then closing again alerted her it was safe.

She put on an air of badassery, a persona of this woman who gave zero fucks and took what she wanted from life, damn the consequences, and damn the people she stepped on along the way. But deep down, underneath that mask she put on to hide from the world, to hide from her pain, was a woman who yearned for something more. Who knew her life was a lie, but was powerless to change it.

And I didn’t miss the way her eyes were practically glued to the shower while I was in it, though she couldn’t see anything. Hell, I could hardly look away, but forced myself to for the sake of my eyeballs. Even as an adult, getting soap in your eyes really fucking sucked.

I took longer than usual to shower the blood off my body, pink water swirling the drain as I tried to forget the way The Skeleton Crew’s girl had reached out her hand—by all accounts, she had no reason to trust me. But she needed a lifeline, and foronce in my life, I did the right thing, saving her from those whackadoos Bonnie and Clyde.

I didn’t want to know what sort of horrors awaited them when the Bone Boys discovered it’d been them taking a shot at their girlfriend.

I imagined if someone came for someone in my circle, I’d act similarly.

Did that circle now extend to Ivy?

I shook that bullshit thought from my mind, hating that it snuck in to begin with. Just because I wanted the bitch to fuck me again didn’t mean I was getting soft. Just because I may or may not have had a hand in turning her into a killing machine fueled by rage and revenge plots didn’t mean she was suddenly an important person in my life. Hell, the bitch had bargained with us for our lives in servitude, instead of sending us to an early grave.

She didn’t deserve a second of consideration, in my opinion. The only reason I hadn’t overpowered her already and set us free of her bullshit bondage was because of Coyote. Whatever he was thinking, I knew he took it seriously. So I’d let it play out for now, and if she wanted to challenge me for dominance, then more power to her.

She could just fucking try.

I shut off the water and placed a palm on the glass, shaking my wet hair out before I opened the door and prepared to give the stubborn bitch an eyeful.

Instead, she was already standing there with a smug look in her eyes, lips drawn into a taut line, a towel dangling from a single finger, stretched slightly in my direction. Those baby blues skimmed my body, then trailed over it slower a second time, before she quirked a brow and stepped forward, my towel still just out of reach.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I couldn’t help but taunt, crossing my arms to keep from covering myself. Two could playthis game.

She stalked around me in a circle, her fingertips grazing my skin as she touched the scars she’d left not long ago, a testament to her torture session. “You’re healing well, I see.”

Rolling my eyes was an uncontrollable move. “Admire your handiwork some other time. It’s fucking cold in here.”

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