Page 51 of Worse Than Wicked
He doesn’t say the rest. He doesn’t have to.
It’s too full of memories of what we did to them, both him and Lo.
“It could have been worse,” I say. “You may not see it because I had to hide it so well even my brothers wouldn’t see it, let alone you. But I tried.”
He lets out a quiet scoff. “Burning my arm until there was no skin left was your way of protecting me?”
I remember that moment, though. He’s right. I loved doing it. I loved the softness of the skin on the inside of his forearm, how warm it was. I loved watching it bubble under the flame, ravaged by the beautiful spear of fire. If there’s a god in this world, it’s that. The pure, incinerating heart of a flame. I remember how he moaned and cursed and screamed. I loved that the most. The raw, carnal brutality of it, when it burned us all down to bone and hunger.
“If Baron had done it, he would have cooked your arm until the flesh fell off the bone,” I point out, shaking the memory away. “You wouldn’t have half your arm.”
“Well, gosh,” Colt drawls. “Let me run right down to the trophy store and get you a gold medal.”
“And if I hadn’t convinced him to take your finger, he would have chopped off your dick, just like they did your dad and your grandpa.”
“That one doesn’t surprise me,” Colt drawls. “You always were obsessed with my dick.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, you want to.”
I finish the cigarette in miserable silence. There’s no point in denying it now.
“You know, it’s hard to make it work with three people,” I say at last. “I’ve done it. I know how.”
“Good for you.”
“I’m just saying. Maybe I need more than your sister can give me now.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“You have to admit, I give you something Lo can’t.”
“On the contrary,” he says. “Lo gives me exactly what I need.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“What about what I need?”
“I’m not in your relationship, Duke. I can’t help you with that.”
“What if you were?”
“I’m not.”
“Hypothetically,” I insist. “It’s not that unthinkable. You like guys and girls.”
“Lo doesn’t like to be shared.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“She did, didn’t she? That was her job. To make you believe you weren’t a bad guy because you didn’t really mean it.”
“I didn’t,” I growl, glaring at him.
He just shakes his head. “You forced her every bit as much as you did me.”
