Page 6 of Monstrous Serpent

Hunter looks out the windshield, then goes back to getting ready. Once our masks are secured and the hoods of our black sweatshirts pulled up, we exit the truck.

Outside, the sky is a burnt orange, which means there will be just enough light to maneuver through the trees to see who we’re chasing. My gaze lands on the tree line, and my heart rate picks up, throat tightening.

Fuck.

Hunter grips the back of my neck, his palm warm, fingers tightening just enough to steady me. He juts his chin toward a blonde wearing violet leggings and a silver masquerade mask. “She’s got a tight ass, big tits.”

I shrug.

The woman reminds me of the last threesome we had with Chelsea. Or was it Chrissy? Shit, it was something with a C. Hunter fucked her ass while I fucked her pussy. Came harder than I ever had.

Because I could feel him.

“What about her?” Hunter jerks his chin toward a redhead stretching near Cap’s charger.

She's pretty, I guess. Objectively. Like the way a painting is pretty. “Maybe.”

“Him?” He’s referring to the guy wearing a purge mask. The guy is lean, has long legs, and a broad back.

“Nah.” I slump against the fender of the F-250. My body is as interested as it would be in cleaning out the truck tomorrow.

Unlike it is with the wall of muscle beside me.

One of the purge mask guy’s friends looks over at us. His gaze runs over me, and I cross my arms. But when he winks, Hunter shifts closer, a low growl rumbling through his chest.

Turning to face my best friend, I incline my head toward the guy. “What about him?”

“No.”

“But maybe I want to experiment.”

He steps in, crowding my space, fingers twitching at his side like he's deciding whether to grab the other guy or me first. “No.”

I push past him. “Fine.”

Some days I really want to punch Hunter in the fucking face. But then my eyes fall on the one person I never expected to see here, and I stop dead in my tracks. Maybe six cars away is one very familiar Titan.

Cody Jenkins.

The mouthy little shit who keeps coming back, no matter how many times I put him on his ass. Five ten, maybe, built low and compact, and stubborn enough to swing at me even though I've got ten inches and sixty pounds on him.

I like fighting him. There's something about the way he refuses to stay down that makes putting him there more fun than it should be. “Well, this night just got more interesting.”

Hunter walks up beside me. “Why the fuck is he here?”

Good question. Jenkins doesn't have a mask on. Doesn't have an armband on either. His hands are shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie, and his head is swiveling like he's looking for someone specific, not looking to play.

He stalks past us, close enough that I could reach out and grab the back of his neck. His shoulders tense as he does, but he's too busy scanning the crowd to look twice.

Then his steps falter, body going rigid.

Can’t tell what he’s looking at since his back is to me, but he’s facing our captain, who’s surrounded by three women. I tilt my head, watching. “Does he know it’s Cap? Bet he’ll start shit if he figures it out. Kind of hope he does.”

Hunter doesn't respond. He's too locked in on Jenkins.

Everyone starts making their way to the designated areas, marking the start of the event. Those with green armbands move toward the tree line while the people with blue armbands gather at the traffic cones near the parking lot.

Hunter and I slip on our blue armbands and hang a few feet back from Jenkins. He doesn't move to either group. Just stands there, watching the crowd sort itself around him as if he unknowingly wandered into someone else's game.