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The sound of dripping wakes me up. I shift and sink into the soft mattress.
"Are you awake?" a voice says. "You've been asleep for three fucking days, who the fuck sleeps for so long unless you're dead?"
Who the fuck curses that much in one sentence?
"Hey, don't insult how I speak," the voice shoots back.
Damn, I didn't even know I said that out loud. I open my eyes and meet the black eyes of a man I've never seen before. I squint. "Who are you?"
"The guy who saved your asses,"
I blink at him. He didn't sound like Ronan, so I knew that was bullshit.
"Ok, maybe not the guy who saved your asses, but I was the guy who killed every fucker in that house, even that motherfucker Jackson. I was going to use my good knife but the dumbass had a machete, I've always wanted a machete, so I used that and cut the fucker's head off, then took his machete, you're welcome,"
Was it bad to say I kind of liked him?
I lift my head and look around. "Where am I?"
"You're in me and Ronan's house, of course," he says, crossing his arms. "That little fucker of yours that looks at you like you're his knife collection is downstairs,"
"Rowan?"
He nods. "Yeah, that one,"
"He looks at me like I'm his knife collection?"
"What?" He has the audacity to look offended. "Knife collections are things to be loved and cherised, fuck you very much,"
I glare at him. "Fuck you right back,"
He grins. "I like you, I say Ronan's an asshole for not introducing us sooner. I've heard you have your own knife collection, how many do you have?"
"Like twenty?"
"Not much, but we'll build it up," he says, shuffling through a drawer and pulling out a ruby engraved dagger. "Take this,"
"Whose is this?" I ask, taking it from his hands.
"It was mine, I made my first kill with it but I haven't used it in years. I used to say I'd give it to my kids but fuck knows that won't be happening, you're my best bet, take it,"
I look over it. It certainly is pretty. "Thanks,"
"And –"
"Stop torturing her, Adrian," Ronan walks in, his full face on display.
My eyes widened. He's showing me his face? Just like that?
"I am not torturing her, you dickhead. I was keeping her company," Adrian argues.
He had a scar from the top of his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth. His jawline was sharp, his eyes were dark green, and his hair was black. I didn't understand why he thought this would scare me away. Was it because of the scar?
