Page 24 of Prey

“That was taken out of context,” Lucien supplies.

“What context makes that better?” Raphael asks.

“I was making a philosophical point about mortality and?—”

“You were high on Theon’s aphrodisiac compound,” Ezra interrupts. “The one he specifically said not to take more than five milligrams of.”

“I took seven,” Lucien admits. “It seemed like a safe round number.”

“Nothing about seven milligrams of experimental sex drugs seems safe,” I point out.

“Says the man keeping a woman in our basement because he can’t decide if he wants to fuck her or send her to Wisconsin,” Theon counters.

“We’re back to this?” I ask, exasperated.

“We never left it,” Damon says. “We just took a scenic route through Lucien’s near-death sexperience.”

“Don’t call it that,” Lucien grimaces.

“Too late. It’s canon now,” Darius declares.

“I’m done with this conversation.” I push off from the counter. “Some of us actually have work to do.”

“Work.” Darius draws out the word like he’s tasting it. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“What else would I call it?”

“A date with your right hand?” Theon suggests.

“Research,” Ezra adds with a straight face. “Very thorough, repetitive research.”

“Quality control testing,” Marcus chimes in, eyes still closed. “Making sure all systems are operational.”

“You’re all hilarious.” I head for the hallway.

“Don’t use all the hot water!” Damon calls after me. “Some of us might want actual showers later.”

“And hydrate!” Raphael adds. “Important to maintain fluid levels during intensive… work sessions.”

“Maybe light some candles,” Darius suggests. “Set the mood for yourstrategic planning.”

“I have reports to review.” My jaw clenches tight enough to ache.

“Reports. Right.” Lucien doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Very detailed reports that require complete privacy and possibly a locked door.”

“Don’t forget tissues,” Theon adds helpfully. “For all that… paperwork.”

“Or just use a sock like a normal person,” Damon contributes.

“He’s too fancy for socks,” Darius argues. “Probably has special tactical jerking-off gloves.”

“Military-grade,” Marcus confirms solemnly. “With grip enhancement.”

“I hate every single one of you.”

“No you don’t,” Ezra says. “You hate that we’re right.”

“You hate that you can’t stop thinking about her,” Raphael corrects. “There’s a difference.”