Page 69 of Entombed By Blood
Is everyone in this house getting some except me?
“Where are the others?” Finn asks, setting down some of the bags on the sofa and rooting through them. “Gideon and Vane still out on that run?”
“Yeah, and Draven is upstairs.”
Both of their heads turn toward me at that. “With Evie?” Silas checks.
“Yes. They came inside a little while ago.”
Finn’s grin is wild. “I told you I smelled sex!”
Silas just nods, brows drawn together. “Why were they outside?”
Finn’s look of excitement wanes as he realises what Silas is saying.
“They didn’t leave together,” I confirm.
“So she tried to run.” Silas echoes my suspicions with uncanny accuracy. “Great.”
Finn slumps into the seat, crumpling the bags with his weight. “You have to tell her the plan. Tonight. Or else she’ll keep running.”
“The question is,” I begin, biting my lip. “Was she running away from us or back to Cain.”
“Away from you.”
All three of us whirl at the soft, female admission coming from the staircase. Eve flinches slightly, just enough to show she’s uncomfortable with our attention. I don’t really blame her. She’s wrapped in nothing more than a towel, and her skin is still flushed from the warmth of her shower. I’m sure we’re staring at her like she’s temptation incarnate, because she is. God, she looks fuckingedible. Soft and—
I cut off the thought before I can go there.
“Just in time,” Finn says, beaming. “We got you clothes. Well,Idid. Silas carried the bags. Come and try this on.”
Eve obediently pads into the room, staring at the bags with suspicion as Finn rummages around for an outfit. When he starts pulling out scraps of lingerie, I have to retreat. It’s either that or face having the circulation to my dick cut off by my pants. Imagining Eve in the shower was bad enough, imagining her in nothing but scraps of lace is fucking torture.
I head for the desk, picking my way through the reports Gideon opened. I try to focus on anything but the sound of fabric sliding over flesh on the other side of the room.
“What do you think?” Her words are quiet, halting.
As if my eyes have been waiting for permission, they spring up from the report I wasn’t really reading.
Fuck. Evie in that dress was a seductive vision, but her in those jeans and a painted-on baby-blue sweater are just as tempting. The fabric looks fucking strokable, and it clings to every line of her body like a second skin.
“You look gorgeous,” Finn says, stealing the words before Silas and I can even summon the brain cells to think once more. “Now we can finally burn that dress.”
Eve is already shaking her head. “No. I need it.”
Finn’s frown says it all, but it’s Silas who asks the inevitable question. “Why?”
“It’s part of the test.” She paces across the room to stand by the window, staring out into the pale, dawn sky.
The silence is so thick we could cut it with a knife.
“Evie,” Silas begins, clearing himself a spot on the sofa before sinking into the old leather. “You’re free of him. You don’t have to play his games anymore.”
Her soft snort is closer to who she was, but she doesn’t argue. “Please, just keep it for now, okay?”
Finn looks to me for permission, and I nod slowly. “We already checked it for trackers. There can’t be any harm in doing as she says.”
“It’s harmful to fashion,” Finn grouses, but says nothing more before going back to the bags.
