Page 26 of Dukes of Peril

He stops me before I climb the steps to the loft, heaving a big sigh. “Look, you don’t have to. I’ll cancel the reservation.”

“No.” I touch his arm, gazing up into his blue eyes. “If I’d known what you were asking, I still would have said yes.”

He searches my eyes, a crease between his brows. “Really?”

I glance over at Remy’s room. “Lucky for you, my sugar daddy bought me a bunch of outfits perfect for this type of thing.”

A small, reluctant smile breaks through his panicked expression, and I give him one in return.

5

Remy

I waituntil I hear the door shut to pry my eyelids open.

Vinny and Sy.

Going on a date, if I heard that conversation right.

I’m pretty sure the closest thing Sy’s ever had to a date was busting a nut in his pants at a Fourth of July party a few years back. First and last time he ever made out with a girl at a function. Well… until Vinny.

I wallow in the ensuing self pity for a bit, not bothering to get out of bed. I’ve done nothing but sleep all day, so I’m caught in the web between being wide awake and too exhausted to move. My muscles feel like they’ve been beaten with a meat tenderizer made of needles and regret. My throat feels like fire, stomach burning, but the urge to retch up the acid has thankfully passed. My shoulder is stiff and still swollen, and a big part of that ‘not moving’ thing is a deep desire to not feel the heavy, aching twinge of it.

All of that could be tolerated, though.

The problem is that there are no colors.

Red or green would guide me. Black or white would offer some relief. Blue would make me feel better. Purple might make my muscles move, drive me into action. Orange would make me fucking miserable, but at least there’d be something. Instead, it’s all just…

Gray.

I put my palm over my eyes as if I could call them back with a prayer.Our colors who art in heaven, sallowed be thy name. But I already know it won’t work. I can feel it inside, the empty pit where they used to be. I’d probably cry if I had any yellow to spare.

I’ve hit a lot of rock bottoms, but this time I must have rolled my sorry ass into a trench.

“Get up.”

I let my hand fall away, squinting to see Nick’s figure in my doorway. Get…up? “Worst idea you ever had,” I say, voice rough as gravel. “And that’s saying a lot.”

Nicky doesn’t look any more mad at me than he already was, entering the room and walking to my dresser. “Clean yourself up and put on something loose and comfortable. We leave in an hour.”

Every inch of my guts recoils at the thought of walking. “Leave for where?”

“The gym.” Nick throws me a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, not meeting my eyes. “Pauly’s going to take a look at that shoulder. Make sure everything’s kosher.”

My gaze falls to my hand, and I curl my fingers. “It’s fine.”

The dresser drawer slams, making me flinch painfully. “Goddamn it, Remy.” Nick braces his hands on the dresser, not even turning to look at me. The line of his shoulders is as tense as his words. “I’m not going to stand here and order you around like a fucking toddler. Either you get out of bed and handle your shit, or you lay there and rot. I’m not going to be your new Sy.” Straightening, he strides to the door, flicking a hand dismissively. “Meet me downstairs at eight if you find your balls.”

Taking a stealing breath, I go through the motions of sitting up, my head throbbing like a wound for a good second. Usually when Nick’s pissed at me like this, he either avoids me like the ice prince he’s so good at being, or he just straight up punches me in the face. Since no punch of his could hurt more than what’s already going down inside my head, all that’s left is avoidance, and that’s not an option, either.

Groaning, I push myself to my feet, fist pressed into my gut. I give it a few seconds to make sure nothing is about to come up before gingerly making my way out of the room. Flipping the bathroom light on is roughly the equivalent of stabbing hot pokers into my eyeballs, so it takes me some time to adjust.

When I do, I wince.

The man staring back at me in the mirror is just as gray as my mind.

My hair is gnarled and dull, cheeks gaunt, eyes rimmed with red. Unbidden, Sy’s voice rises in my head.You’re dehydrated. I turn on the faucet, duck my head, and take large, greedy gulps of water from the stream, trying not to hear the way it sounds, rushing and wet. Just like the river.

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