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That’s not helping my desire to wring his neck with my bare hands.
I shrugged, smirking to myself. He’ll probably get his way.
Freya—
Not me, Cyrus.
Cali and Jo—
Not Cali either. Never mind. Leave Cadoc to me.
Why is that the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard?
Because you know me too well.
There and gone in a flash nearly as fast as the lightning, he grinned before wetting his lips and giving his head a good shake. Do I?
As hard as it might be to believe, I think you know me better than just about anybody, shy of August. Cyrus’ lips twitched again, and then he wrapped a rough hand around the back of my neck, tugging me forward until he could press his lips to my forehead.
“You guys fuckin’ again?” came a yawn from the corner, just before an irritated yowl that could only mean one of our unwanted furry friends had been unwillingly relocated. “Cause, Imma need to get the hell outta here if that’s on the agenda.”
I sat up, yanking a pillow with me and chucked it across the room toward a smirking Carrson.
It was intercepted by Atreus, who scowled at me disapprovingly. “Nice little queens don’t abuse their cripples.”
“Who said I was nice?”
“Hey,” Carr growled, holding out an expectant palm to the orange tabby, whose tail twitched in response. Somehow, he’d already slipped his sling off and tossed it at Atreus. “Fuck off, I’m not crippled.”
“Metal prosthetics are all the rage,” Atreus drawled, glaring in his direction. “Didn’t I tell you to fucking be careful with that thing?”
Carr shrugged, but his expression tightened, sapphire eyes flicking to me. “Thank you,” he breathed, shaking his head, Adam’s apple bobbing. He ran his good hand over the cat’s head, palm dwarfing the little guy before stroking over his back. “I thought that bitch had me, for fuckin’ sure.”
“Cujo, so help me, if you make me cry today—”
“You’ll, what? Ask me for a hand?”
“Not funny,” I protested through a laugh.
“Kinda funny,” Cyrus grumbled into his palms, where they were shoved against his face.
“You’ll make me your right-hand man?”
“Carrson Landry, so help me—”
“She full named you,” Vik observed, his voice sleep-rough as he peeled out of the armchair, grimacing as he rolled his neck around.
“Careful, Maleficent,” Carr said with a smirk nearly as soft as his cousin’s, his eyes weighed down with a haunted shadow that only came from waking up when you were pretty fucking certain you never would again. He held up his shiny metal hand, rotating it, his eyes wide. “Can’t let people know how much the butcher queen cares.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled over the lump in my throat. Held his gaze though, even as the room blurred around me. “How are you so chatty? Didn’t you bleed half to death?”
I looked down to find one of Cyrus’ shirts tucked over my body, grateful I didn’t fly out of bed with no pants, with three men sitting in my bedroom. A life without coffee was absolutely worth going to war over, although the misfit toys that found their way into my life eased what I was sure would be a screaming headache in no time.
“Plenty of blood left in the bank, you topped off my well around three,” Carr said, “I spent most of the night in the healing salves in The Middle, and honestly, I have to thank y’all for damn quick thinking.”
“Stay in bed today,” I ordered.
“Yeah, Cujo,” Atreus taunted. “Stay in bed.”
