He keeps his stare on me before looking around the room.
“I can get you another type of book if you want.” He kneels next to me. “I swear, doll, we are nothing like the Hunters.”
Doll.
A shiver runs down my spine, and it takes all my strength to control my breathing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again and reaches to tuck a hair strand behind my ear.
“I think I have an infected cut on my rib.” I blurted out. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I need something to justify why I look so flushed and out of breath.
He stands and reaches out his hand. I look at it; big, thick fingers, his veins pulsing all up to his arm. That skull tattoo that covers his palm is beautiful, and I swallow before taking it. He pulls me up and sits on the bed while pulling me to stand in front of him between his open legs.
“I will just raise your shirt enough to see the cut, okay?” His calm and steady voice makes me relax a little.
He pulls my shirt up. My sweatpants are lower on my hips, and he sees the tattoo right over my hip bone. He frowns but doesn’t say anything and checks the cut. “It does look a little red. I’ll just get some stuff.” He stands fast, and I flinch. “Sorry.” He whispers.
“It’s fine,” I whisper.
The way men move sometimes triggers me. I don’t know exactly how, but I know it has to do with that night with Cash, but for fuck’s sake, it was years ago—
“Ryker, stand here with Aspen. I need to get some alcohol and bandages.” He calls out, and not even a minute after, Ryker walks in, worry on his face.
“Is she hurt?” He looks up and down at me.
“I’m fine; it’s just a cut,” I say, sitting on the bed.
Dante steps out, and Ryker sits next to me but gives enough room so we don’t touch. He smiles gently, and his eyes move to the books on the floor.
“Learning about guns, huh?” He smiles, leaning to pick one up.
“Yeah, it might come in handy.” I shrug, and he releases a laugh.
Max peeks in, and I see the way his eyes dart to Ryker. I’ve noticed the way these two look at each other, and I feel there is something more than just being brothers in arms.
“Everything alright here?” Max asks, leaning against the door and crossing his arms over his broad chest, the fabric pulling on the seams. My eyes travel over his muscles and land on his belt.
Jesus, what is wrong with me?!
“Yeah, Aspen has a cut, and Dante went to get some stuff to disinfect it,” Ryker responds, his eyes never leaving Max.
He just nods and leaves. Ryker releases a soft breath.
“He’s upset with you,” I say, and Ryker turns to face me.
“Right?” His words crack slightly as he waves a hand in the air, his frustration clear. “I don’t even know why!”
I stare at him, the raw pain in his expression stark against the hunger that flickers in his eyes. His body is tense, as if he’s trying to fight something inside.
Is he into Max? My mind starts to imagine these two powerhouses of men together, one chained as the other-
“Let me see it again.” Dante comes in and cuts through my thoughts.
Goddamn!
He sits down as I stand in front of him. He pushes my shirt up, and I see Ryker from the corner of my eye staring at my stomach and my tattoo; he bites his bottom lip, and I can feel that damn redness traveling from my cheeks to my neck.
Dante notices it too. I can tell by the smirk on his lips as he looks up at Ryker, but neither one of them says a thing.