Page 93 of Hunted

“Not cool, dude. You know what Blackwing does to Swallows,” he said softly, voice tinged with a hefty dose of sadness.

“And they would have done a fucktonne more if I hadn’t smashed Marie’s machine,” Beck snarled, still furious at the callous bitch.

Dek’s face whipped round to mine, hazel eyes wide and a little… frightened? “No way, you got Marie?”

Beck grunted an affirmative. “I bribed Greta to assign her the others, though.”

He broke out into a grin. “Aww, shit yes! We get to hang out with Pyotr? That guy knows all the best secrets.”

“Careful what you wish for,” I mumbled, earning three vastly different stares for my trouble.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Van’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“It means let us in or no one will get any dinner around here tonight,” Beck said, grabbing my hand and guiding me into the apartment behind him. To my utter surprise, he didn’t let go until I was seated on the couch, comfortably propped up on a fluffy pink pillow.

Wait.

Fluffy? Pink? Since when did this apartment possess even a lick of colour that wasn’t grey, black, or brown?

I knew it couldn’t have been Beck, since he’d been attached to my hip all day, which left either the singer or the professor. I watched each of them closely, trying to decide who was being the weirdest.

Both stood by the door—staring at me, staring at Beck—both realising something had changed but unable to deduce exactly what.

Beck returned with another needle, lips pursed in something too close to regret.

“Give it here,” I demanded, holding out my hand like a platter.

He shook his head. “No. You did the last one and busted yourself up pretty good. If you think I’m about to let that happen again, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”

“And she’s pretty damned smart,” Van muttered, crossing the room to drop into the empty space beside me.

He held out his hand as Dek sat on my other side, throwing an arm over the back of the couch behind me.

“We’ve got it, Beck,” Van said. “You go do your kitchen thing and cook us something good for dinner this time.” He winked, knowing the jab would land and Beck wouldn’t stand for culinary slander.

As it was, he debated with himself for a few seconds, then relinquished the needle with a sigh. “Any requests, Ice?”

Suddenly I was hungry for so much more than food.

“Something bad for me,” I hummed, holding a smirk at bay. “Something I’ve never had before, and will probably regret in the morning.”

His eyes darkened as my core simmered. “You wouldn’t regret anything of mine in the morning, ‘cause it’d be there in the morning for you to devour as well.”

“Fuck,” I whispered, ignoring the charged glances shot past my face as Dek and Van exchanged disbelieving looks.

“I want what she’s having,” Dek drawled jokingly, shifting in his seat to adjust his crotch.

Beck turned his dark glare on his friend, significantly colder than the one he’d given me. “Do you?”

“Actually, no. I want what you’re having,” he answered, dismissing Beck, then locked eyes with me.

Reeling, I leaned back, accidentally slipping into the crook of his extended arm. He took full advantage of the opportunity and dropped said arm around my waist, dragging me closer to him and further away from Van.

I turned to the professor, hoping for a lifeline. And I got one in the most heartaching of ways.

His expression chilled me. It was so venom-filled, so hate-filled that I retreated further into Dek’s embrace.

What had I done to deserve the professor’s ire?