Page 107 of Monstrous Serpent

Cody doesn't.

And when he finds out, I’ll lose the only person who’s wanted me back the way I want him.

Chapter 26

Cody

We hit a pothole, and the jolt shoots straight through my spine and into both testicles. “My balls! Fuck my balls!”

Atlas shakes in my arms. The asshole is laughing. He pushes his visor up a bit, then pats my thigh twice. “Told you to lift off the seat.”

“You said that once. While you were putting on your helmet. That is not adequate instruction.”

He pats my thigh again. “Shh. Good backpacks don't complain.”

“I'm not a fucking backpack.”

“You're right. Backpacks don't whine this much.”

I'm going to murder him once we park. Beat him with my helmet, then leave his body in a pothole for the next rider to find.

The road finally smooths out, and I loosen my grip just enough to feel my fingers again. How the hell do they find this fun?

Okay, holding onto Atlas? Not terrible.

The potholes can still go straight to hell, though. And if we were racing in cars, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about getting launched onto the pavement.

From now on, I’ll be taking my own car whenever we go out. They can join if they want. But I’m not getting on the back of this death trap again.

Atlas covers my hand with his, and I can’t help smiling as my heartbeat finally starts to settle.

I’ve been worried about him for the past couple of days. The way he shook when I touched his scar. The tiny sob that slipped out before he finally fell asleep in my arms. I hadn’t meant to cause that.

Maybe one day he’ll tell me what happened. Until then, I’ll just hold on when he needs me to.

Hunter blows past us on the left, getting smaller the farther ahead he gets. And for about three seconds, I think Atlas is going to let him go. Then the engine drops into a lower gear and my stomach lurches as the bike surges forward.

“You fucking asshole!” I slap the tank of the bike. “Slow the fuck down!”

He doesn't.

If anything, the engine screams louder as Atlas takes the next curve, leaning so far that my knee almost grazes the asphalt. My arms lock tighter around his waist, and I squeeze my eyes shut because if I'm going to die tonight, at least I won't see it coming.

We hit another pothole.

“God-fucking-dammit!”

The wind keeps wrenching my neck every time I lift my head wrong, and the next shift sends my helmet thunking against Atlas’s.

If I survive this, I’m never letting either of them pick transportation again.

The bike finally slows down, and I open my eyes. We pull off the exit, head down the main street, and turn into the parking lot for the Bayville Scream Park, which is already packed. Every person on the island must be here tonight.

Atlas pulls into an empty spot, cuts the engine, then flips up his visor. “You good back there, Little J?”

“No.”

He dismounts, takes off his helmet, then holds out his hand. “Need help?”