Page 4 of The Untamed

His eyebrows furl together and a frown tugs at his full lips. “Mom said no, remember?”

I roll my eyes, irritated at the reminder of that argument. It was only last month that I told Mom I was going to live with Ronan. She flipped out and yelled at me. We both ended up crying by the end of the fight. Dad diffused the situation, but the answer was still no.

No reason as to why not.

Just no.

Again, so unfair that my brothers can do what they want, but I have to follow Mom and Dad’s dumb rules.

“I hate everyone,” I tell him with a huff. “You’re the only one who gets me.”

“You don’t hate everyone.”

I ignore his comment because I do hate them. He smiles as I reach up to brush away a dark blondish-brown lock of hair that falls into his eyes. His hair is always messy and overgrown. I love the way it looks on him. Just like I love his silly black-rimmed glasses. I’ve put them on a million times since he got them a couple of years ago and still don’t understand how he can see through the blurry glass.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Ronan takes hold of my hand that’s fussing with his hair and squeezes it.

My heartrate quickens. He’s the best cuddler. “Ryder.”

He smirks, patting the sheath on my belt at my hip. “You still have your knife.”

“He was acting weird and gave up.”

“Our brother gave up?” Ronan chuckles. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

I note that Ronan hasn’t moved his hand from my hip. My skin tingles where he touches me. A shiver runs through my entire body.

“He got hard.” I narrow my eyes as I study Ronan, waiting for a reaction.

“Hard?”

“His penis, Ro. He pinned me down and it got hard.”

His face pales and an unfamiliar chill chases away all the warm, fuzzy feelings he evoked.

“What?” I demand, my heart rate thumping wildly in my chest. “Is he sick?”

Ronan flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

“You’re not telling me something.”

The room falls into silence again.

What are they hiding from me?

He got hard.

She said it so breezily. As if it meant nothing. As though the words were just words and not a strike into the earth of my world, sending fissures scattering in a thousand different directions.

He. Got. Hard.

I’m both sickened and oddly intrigued all at once.

“Should I tell Mom and Dad?”

I jolt upright, shaking my head at her. “No. Don’t say anything.”

Raegan’s eyes narrow to tiny slits. She reminds me of a hawk when she’s trying to get to the bottom of something, attention hyper focused and ready to swoop in on her prey. “Why not? If he’s sick, they should know.”

---