Page 4 of Dead Devil's Playground
Kai’s cackle follows me, wicked and delighted. I resist the urge to flip him off, though it takes more self-control than I’d like to admit. Instead I focus on getting dressed, pulling on fitted black jeans that hug my hips with a blue satin shirt that Rev had found for me, the fabric cool and smooth against my skin. This sort of material is a luxury now, and tells everyone I’m not someone to fuck with.
Pulling my boots on, I slide my knives into place. I run a brush through my hair but leave it out, a swipe of the dark eyeliner and blue eyeshadow making my eyes pop the way I like. Good enough.
When I step back out, the conversation they were having in hushed tones cuts off. Three sets of eyes turn to look at me, all of them assessing.
“Nice,” Kai drawls, winking as he saunters over. He wraps one of his tattooed arms around my waist, pulling me close. His touch is warm and familiar, and I feel the usual thrill at his proximity. When he goes in for a kiss, I bring a hand up between us.
“I’m not reapplying this lipstick,” I warn, smirking, my voice sweet but firm.
His grin only sharpens. He peels my hand away like it’s nothing, lips ghosting across mine before sliding to the soft spot under my ear. His tongue flicks, deliberate, making my knees weak.
“That’s fine, gorgeous,” he murmurs, voice hot against my skin. “I’ll save my kisses for your other lips later.”
The promise coils through me, dark and dirty, leaving me flushed and aching. He steps back, smug as the devil.
Rev replaces him, his intense gaze locking onto mine as he gently takes my hand. The humor fades from his eyes, replaced by a seriousness that makes my heart skip a beat. “Be careful out there, little bit. I hate when we’re apart.”
The weight of his words presses into my chest. His hand slides up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. Then, without breaking eye contact he leans in, his lips touching mine—soft, feather-light, deliberate. Careful. Tender. It burns hotter than Kai’s teasing.
Hudson waits by the elevator, patient, his stance relaxed but his eyes sharp. Keys on the counter catch my eye, and I scoopthem up as I stalk over. His brow arches when I flash them at him.
“Like fuck are you driving,” he says flatly, snatching them from my grip and tossing them back to Kai without effort.
I roll my eyes, stepping into the elevator. “All right, old man.”
Ignoring the choking laugh coming from one of the twins, Hudson follows me into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. The confined space amplifies his presence, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around me.
I lean back against the elevator wall, crossing my arms over my chest as I eye him critically. I know in reality there is only nine years between us. Ever since he started working for us almost two years ago I have put up a clear wall between us, but today, l can’t resist trying to poke at his rigid control.
"You know, for someone your age, you move pretty fast," I remark, my tone dripping with faux concern. "Should I be worried about you throwing your back out?"
His eyes flick to me, amusement dancing in their depths. "Considering I can still outrun and outfight you on your best day, my back is just fine," he retorts smoothly, not missing a beat.
I sigh dramatically. "Denial is the first sign of aging, you know. Next thing, you'll be bitching about 'kids these days' and going to bed at eight."
A low, dark chuckle escapes his lips, a sound that thrums in my chest. "Keep it up, and I'll start enforcing a curfew for you. Eight o’clock was it?"
I arch a brow. "Please. Like you could control me."
He leans closer, voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “Don’t make me prove you wrong.”
The air thickens, heat and irritation tangling. I hold his stare, unflinching. “In your dreams, old man.”
His smirk widens, sharp as a blade. “You have no idea what I dream about.”
The elevator dings, breaking the moment, but the tension clings like smoke. He slides his mask of professionalism back on, gesturing forward. “After you.”
I lift my chin, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in my stomach as I stride out of the elevator.
As we walk through the dark and empty nightclub Hudson falls into step beside me, his gaze scanning the surroundings for any sign of threat.
Outside, the black SUV is already waiting at the curb, engine purring. One of Hudson's men stands by the car door, opening it as we approach. I pause, casting a look at Hudson.
"I still don't see why I can't drive. I know these streets better than you," I argue, not ready to let the issue drop.
Hudson doesn’t even blink. "And I know how to keep you alive. Let me do my job."
I roll my eyes but climb into the SUV without further protest. As he settles into the driver's seat, I can't resist one last jab.
