Page 177 of Boys Who Taint

Grey

The demanding glaremakes me swallow.

He slides his hand up my leg, my thigh, meticulously inspecting the wound. “This is going to be painful.”

“I can take it,” I reply.

“Oh, can you? I bet you can take a whole lot more then …” He raises a brow, as he grabs a tool from his first-aid kit and immediately digs into my flesh.

I groan in pain, and Aspen grabs my hand, letting me squeeze it out as Apollo pulls out the bullet.

“There you are, you little fucker,” he says, discarding it onto the floor.

Then he grabs some disinfectant and wipes off the hole in my body, cleaning it all up, before he begins the suturing.

“Are you sure this’ll be good enough?” Aspen asks.

“It won’t be pretty, but it’ll do,” Apollo responds. “By the time it’s healed, you’ll get to flaunt this gnarly scar.”

“I don’t want to flaunt anything,” I reply, still mad at him.

“No? Because you’ve sure been flauntingheraround,” he retorts.

Aspen rolls her eyes, but it only makes him snort. He finishes the suturing with a tight knot and cuts off the remaining thread, all while throwing maddening glances that throw me off.

What is his fucking problem?

Why can’t he stop looking at me like that?

And why do I find it so hard to look away too?

“So are you two going to tell me who shot him, or do I have to force it out of you?”

“What? Why?” Aspen mutters.

“Because you came to me for help, and I’m a curious son of a bitch. What else do you want me to say?” He snorts. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

“Yeah, well, your promises don’t mean much after you helped Levi,” she says.

He puts his stuff back into his kit and says, “I did that because you didn’t honor our agreement.” He grabs the kit and stands up, tall, menacing, towering over both of us with ease. “I wanted you both. Here.”

I gulp as he steps away to place the kit back in its place.

“Fine. We killed a Bonesman,” I say, hoping it’ll be enough.

But he glances at me over his shoulder with such intrigue on his face that I nearly regret telling him. “We?”

His eyes settle on Aspen, who folds her arms as he approaches her.

“You killed someone?” He grabs her chin and inspects her, so she slaps his hand away. “I’m impressed, Freckles.”

“You don’t want to know why?” I ask.

“No. Should I?” he retorts.

“It’s none of his business,” she says.

“You made it my business when you came in here asking for my help.” He folds his arms too, mimicking her. “And I fulfilled my end of this agreement.” The smirk that follows is insufferable. “Now it’s your turn.”

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