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“Bugsy, Bugsy, Bugsy,” I whisper into his feathers, and he echos the words before flitting to the dresser. He flicks his tongue against the flat head of one of Briar’s snakes. “Careful. If you break that, she might turn you into the world’s tiniest chicken tender.” I murmur, “I don’t know her limits.”
To be honest, I don’t know much about her at all. I don’t know where her talk of severing fingers and blowing up men becomes reality, if it ever does. I’ve never bragged or joked about the things I’ve done, the things I could be capable of.
Given how she looks and how easily she smiles, it’s hard for me to believe she could carry through on any of her threats.
But I’m not one to make the mistake of underestimating anyone.
Making my way to my cot after brushing my teeth, I sit on the edge and watch her.
Briar Rosanera.
She’s a force of nature. A manipulative genius. A calculated annoyance.
An aphrodisiac.
Can I trust her, beyond where our interests align? Can I value her character as much as I value her mind?
Family is family.
My fists clench together between my knees.
Anyone willing to go to war for me has earned my trust.
Rising, I snatch the blanket off my cot and gently drape it around her shoulders. It takes resisting every urge in me to return to the creaking mattress instead of slipping in beside her again
I have a crush.
It’s bad.
Real bad.
Severely detrimental to both my logical and emotional health.
But I need to figure out where I stand with her on the whole before I entertain sleeping next to her. If I sleep next to her tonight, I’ll sleep next to her tomorrow. And then I’ll be uttering her name into the bruises I leave on every inch of her body. Forever.
There will be no end to what I want from her.
And I won’t remember to care.
♠
The next morning, I’m a husk of a person while Briar, per usual, embodies the sun. She chirps her good morning at Bugsy, whispers an inane, “You look like you’d top chocolate pudding, yes you do,” and hums while she gets ready for the day. It’s a good thing my eyes don’t open fully until the shower starts running, because for some terrible reason Briar didn’t care to shut the bathroom door.
We need to have a conversation about exactly what last night means, and I probably need to apologize for my lack of restraint.
Anxious, I tug on a fresh pair of jeans and a new shirt. By the time she’s dressed, I’m almost positive she’s seen the damage I did, but she doesn’t say a thing.
So I pocket my burner phone, flex my fingers, and broach the subject. “Sorry.” I clear my throat. “About last night.”
She smiles—and it’s blinding in a way that sends a shock of panic into the very depths of my soul. “I’m going to lie through my teeth, ’kay?”
I wince. “What…? No, that’s not okay.”
She tosses her hair back in a distinct I don’t care manner before she says, “I’m not offended. Don’t worry.”
“For some odd reason, I am incredibly worried.”
Her laughter is jarringly fabricated. “Other women might kill if they fall asleep with a guy and don’t wake up with him, but I’m more reasonable than other women, so I’m not even offended.”
