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In that case I’d better hurry the hell up before the dream ends, right?
“There’s more.” Raine sits down beside me before I can speak. “Gimme your plate.”
He heaps another huge, steaming piece on it and I accept it gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Kayla cooked it, not Shun, so I think we’re safe. My brother thinks he can cook but…” He shudders. “Even raised on cat food, I can’t always digest what he makes.”
I pause in the process of inhaling the lasagna and stare at him. “Cat food?”
He shrugs. “I told you about my dad.”
Right. “You sure did.”
Downstairs, before we came up, sitting inside his pick-up truck. Thing is, I was in a bit of a fog then—cold, and tired, and stressed out.
Not that my mind’s much clearer now, sitting here warm and comfortable with a full belly—and with him so close. Yeah, even food can’t distract me from the bare-chested hottie beside me.
He has very little ink for someone who works in a tattoo shop. Hell, someone whose brother is a tattoo artist. Just a line of text on one hard pectoral that I haven’t been able to read, and a band on a thick biceps that flexes when he lifts the fork to his mouth.
My mouth goes dry, watching him eat, watching the strong lines of his body, his beautiful face shadowed by the fall of his dark hair, his golden skin so tempting, making me want to run my fingers and my tongue all over him.
“So… you had a hard childhood,” I mutter.
I dunno why I feel the need to comment, show I’m listening. Feels like it’s the least I can do after he fed me dinner. And washed me. And… shit, this is fucked-up.
He swallows, puts his fork down in the plate. “It was okay. I had my brother. And Livvy. Until…”
I wait, but he’s silent, staring down at his half-eaten food.
And despite the fact that my first thought is to ask if I could finish it, if he doesn’t want it, I find myself asking, “Until what?”
He rubs a hand over his face. “Ocean sent me away to my aunt, and our folks kicked him out to the street.”
Fuck. Sounds like a page taken out of my own story. Which sucks ass.
The few days I spent in the company of Raine’s brother years ago, and the times I met him afterward, he never offered any details about his past. Or Raine’s. I assumed it meant there was nothing noteworthy about it, that they were normal kids, raised by a normal family.
Not by wolves, like me.
“I’m sorry,” I offer, cuz that’s all I’ve got.
He nods, and he’s quiet. The TV is humming in the background, and I glance at it, my belly so full I feel vaguely sick. There’s a bite of lasagna left on my plate and I make myself eat it. Can’t waste good food. Then I wonder if it’s okay to lick the sauce off the plate.
Hm… The room is darkening. I give a slow blink, jolt when my for
k thunks down on the plate.
Damn.
“You ever watch this series?” Raine asks, and I struggle to focus on his words. These past few nights I barely slept a wink and it’s catching up on me. “Shadowhunters. Fantasy and all that shit, if you like it.”
“Uh sure. Mayleen likes it. It’s all right.”
“Mayleen?”
“A friend. We watch TV sometimes when I crash at her place.”
“Why, where do you normally sleep?”
