Page 143 of Nothing More

“Oh my God.” Cass made a show of rolling her eyes and scooted sideways, closer to Miles, leaving a gap between herself and Raven. “There. You can sit next to yourgirlfriend.”

Shep sniggered into his beer like an idiot child.

Raven still didn’t turn around or acknowledge him in any way.

Her hand flared up in his mind, pale and questioning, fingers curling to claws, manicured nails sharpening to talons.

He’d fucked up that morning. He’d known that the moment he let his gaze slide away, and scraped the potatoes onto a plate, and ignored her gesture until she drew it back.

Somehow, he’d still expected one of those small, hopeful smiles, a sidling up, a sway like she wanted to be close to him.

He’d underestimated how much he’d come to appreciate those small signs of affection in so short a time.

He didn’t answer, and instead went to drop his gear in the spare room he’d been given. It was nicer than any motel he’d been inside: padded headboard, chandelier instead of a ceiling fan, stack of neat white towels in the ensuite. He dumped his bag out onto the bed and stowed his weapons away on his person, because nice or not, alarmed or not, he wasn’t going to leave a gun or knife lying around anywhere in this apartment.

Because you think someone would break in?an unhelpful voice in the back of his mind asked.Or because you don’t trust your own club? Your own lover?

He thought of Misha’s expression in the car earlier, that knowing, almost sad slant of his brows.You’re lying to them.

He was. He was lying to all of them.

By necessity, he argued to himself, and zipped his empty bag up with such fierceness he felt one of the zipper teeth snap off. Working with Misha was a temporary, necessary evil. As soon as they tracked down the Butcher’s son, and found out what he wanted, whether or not he had associates and allies, they could slit his throat and be done with it. Toly and Misha could shake hands, walk back to their respective corners, and then it was business as usual again.

Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone about it. Maybe after. Maybe if it worked. Maybe he could line his toes up with the edge of the rug, hang his head, and beg for Maverick’s forgiveness.

He hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about fixing things with Raven…had things even been right to start with? He’d been fully prepared to be the more invested party; he didn’t know what to do about the fact that she was in up to her neck, too. The honorable thing would be to step back, tell her she was lovely (the centerpiece of countless fantasies, his Billboard Girl in the flesh, real, and warm, and funny, and sexy as all hell, better than the fantasies), but he wasn’t keen on serious relationships.

He raked his hair back in front of the mirror, schooled his features into some semblance of unbothered relaxation, and went back out to join the others. They were as he’d left them, the gap between Raven and Cassandra glowing neon, too obvious.Sit here.This is for you. Everyone knows you two are sleeping together, now, she told them herself.

The pizza boxes sat open on the coffee table: one veggie with two slices missing, three pepperoni and sausage, picked apart, maybe one whole pizza left between the three. He grabbed a slice of that, a napkin from the stack, and thumped down into his designated seat before he could second guess himself.

On his right, Cass was sitting cross-legged, and her knee and socked toes jabbed at his thigh, sharp as table corners.

A rustle of fabric on his left signaled Raven crossing her legs, tucking her arms in close. She stared at the TV screen, and left a quarter-inch between their bodies, close enough for his skin to flicker in anticipation, far enough that no part of them brushed together. A subtle thing, but a deliberate one. A darted glance to the side revealed her face illuminated by the TV’s blue glow, her expression calmly thoughtful, brow smooth. Giving away nothing.

That was worse than a frown, really, the wondering it caused.

“How was the gym?” Miles asked.

Granted, Toly didn’t know him well, but all that he’d seen of the guy had been this mild, good-natured friendliness that seemed to persist no matter who he was talking to. He’d gone a little grim the day he showed Toly the security footage at Raven’s apartment, but he’d shown no signs of playing Protective Big Brother. No posturing, no threats. Now, though, a faint knowing edge firmed his voice. Doubt. The ring of challenge.

He knew. Or he at least knew Toly was lying, even if he didn’t know who, what, where.

Toly’s stomach squeezed, and he forced himself to take a bite of pizza. Spoke around it. “Fine. Crowded.”

“You try that big machine yet?” Bennet asked, and he at least didn’t sound suspicious of anything. “You know, the one you can see through the window as you go by? There’s always some swol, Hulk-looking dude on it.” He mimed triceps presses with both hands, and spilled pepperoni on the sofa.

Toly waited for Raven to snap at him, but she didn’t; it wasn’thersofa, after all.

Shep snorted. “Look at his arms. You think he uses something like that?”

If he’d wanted to, Toly could have stood, stripped off his hoodie, and showed off the neat, tight curves of his biceps; he didn’t have huge arms, but they were ropey, defined, and strong. As usual, though, Shepherd wasn’t worth the trouble. “I haven’t tried it,” he said, and crammed more pizza in his mouth.

Beside him, Raven shifted forward to set her balled-up napkin in the veggie box, and sat back again. Picked up the glass of ice water off the sofa table, and resettled, still not touching him.

Silent.

~*~

---