Page 5 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
“You fucking kidding me?” She shoves me away.
I stumble back and grin. Irritating these women is like a drug I can’t avoid—especially this one. The feisty brunette with a name like the one I lost. Every time I flirt with her, it’s like I’m torturing myself with ghosts.
Leila slams her shoulder into me as she walks by. Pain bursts in my bruised flesh.
“Psycho,” I grumble and hold my arm. Shamefully, I can’t take hits like I used to.
She pivots to face me, eyes wild. “As if you can’t take it.”
She inches closer, and I feel the heat of her body. Her pupils blow to giant black saucers. My pulse quickens, and I drop my gaze to the blush of her plump lips. She really is stunning. I think I’m getting hard. Yep... a semi is poking into the fly of my jeans. I don’t know how she does this to me, but I react with arousal every damn time I smell her. I guess seduction is what these women know.
I can take it...
“But I can give a lot more,” I drawl and let my gaze rake down her mouthwatering body.
Her spitfire attitude brings life to my sluggish heart. If Thea’s relic works, if I truly get healed, maybe I’ll knock on her door in the middle of the night, slip in, and see if she’s up for—
“You’re revolting,” she snaps.
My grin widens. “You love it.”
“I want to puke.”
I stifle a groan at this tension. My cock is rock hard now. All she needs to do is look down and see... but I can’t help messing with her further. “You want to fuck me.”
“I want tomurderyou.” Her shriek thunders in the hallway, and I step back, eyes wide.
Okay... maybe she’s not playing with me. But in all my time here, she’s always been happy to trade insults. I honestly thought it was a game. My bad.
“What’s your problem?” I ask.
“My problem? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, your problem.” I shove her shoulder with two fingers.
Leila goes so still that I fear I’ve turned her to stone. Fear licks down my spine as I realize she’s switched into Sinner mode... and my fingers are still pressed into her shoulder. This is why Team Saint is here. This dead look in her eyes. I should step back, but I’m worried one move and she’ll snap.
With a measured, deliberate motion, she lowers her eyes to where I touch her. Then she slowly returns her icy gaze to my face. There’s something in there beyond the cold death—it’s personal, pained, and too real. And I feel like it’s all my fault. I quickly avert my gaze, shove my hands back in my torn jeans’ pockets, and jog down the stairs as fast as I can... away from the psycho.
“If you’re spoiling for a fight, Zeke,” she shouts after me, her voice husky. “I’m your huckleberry.”
The world screams.
Not the world.
My heart.
I pause halfway down the steps. My knuckles whiten on the rail. Can’t breathe.
The big dumb redheaded bully from the group home is picking on the wrong kid. I hate his fucking guts, and he’s just given me the best excuse to start a brawl... Time to rescue the damsel. I charge into the courtyard to a game of piggy-in-the-middle. Four or five other foster kids tease the tiny new girl. But she’s snarling and hissing at them like a wildcat.
My lips curve as I take in her moxie. Brave little thing. But they should pick on someone their own size.
“Hey!” I shout. They all look my way.
I stalk forward, my death stare zeroed in on the fuckhead who thinks he can just take what he wants. I shove him so hard that he falls on his ass. I snarl, “You wanna pick on someone, Puck? I’m your huckleberry.”
My fingers slide into my pocket and touch the charred bracelet again. It can’t be. Has Lei Ling been in front of my face the whole time? Who died in that fire? Why was her bracelet there? Why couldn’t I find her in any of the hospitals? She’s dead.
