He offered her a small smile. “Who else would I want to belong to?” No one else mattered like she did. Maybe he shouldn’t want to belong to anyone at all, but if that was what Konis wanted? He was fine with it.
She nodded, more to herself than anything as she tried to adjust to the idea of him actually wanting to be close to her. It was touch and go, her mood swings all over the place, but dammit all, she was trying.
Calla had taken a wrong turn somewhere, the scenery completely wrong and her cell phone getting no reception. She had tried to go back the way she had come, but it had only mixed her up further and there were no ley lines close enough for her to follow.
“Just my damn luck,” she muttered, more to herself than anything. “If anyone’s around that can point me in the right direction to get out of this place, I’d appreciate it!” she called out, knowing it was a long shot.
“I did tell you to fuck off, didn’t I? You’re the one who didn’t listen.” As far as he was concerned, that had been fair warning. “Wouldn’t you, though? I mean, I’m practically a charity case, right? Hanging around me has to make you feel like you’ve got your shit together and if it happens to make you feel less alone, well why stop?”
“You could also just not be a dick.” It sounded like a better idea to her and that route often included alcohol and shit talking about other people. “I don’t do charity, I don’t give enough of a fuck for that shit. Most of the time I actually like you as a person. Today, on the other hand, not so much.”
“You get to continue holding the title of my favorite older sister?” he offered, although he was sure she had something more specific in mind. “Okay, first off, fuck you. And second, it was my backup gun. I needed it handy but not on me.”
“Like I have any competition for that title?” She smirked as she dismantled the gun enough to put the springs back in place properly. “First of all, you couldn’t handle that and secondly, mom could have gotten you a specialized holster for different areas of your car.”
“I am when it suits me.” Mostly just to the family, but that was neither here nor there. “No. I’m not an idiot.” He paused a moment before adding. “But it was in the glove compartment recently and I might have had to slam the brakes. There may have been some jostling.”
“What do I get out of fixing your gun?” His answer had her lofting a brow, the words rolling off of her tongue before she could even think to say something else. “Only an idiot keeps his gun in the glove compartment.”
“Actively? No. But it wouldn’t be the first time.” And the last time had been by a Holden, who probably threw a better punch than Colette could manage. “Has it occurred to you that maybe I don’t want friends? That maybe I like being alone? I’m not you. I don’t need to have other people around to feel better about myself.”
“Are you sure?” She was technically human, for the most part, but she could damn sure make a punch hurt a lot more than a simple bruise or fracture. She could make it burn if she wanted to. “Honey, if I wanted to feel better about myself, I wouldn’t be spending my time with you.”
“Who says it’s flattery? Maybe I’m just being nice,” he pointed out, handing the weapon over without hesitation. There weren’t a lot of people he trusted with that sort of thing, but Wil was absolutely one of them.
“Harper? We both know you’re not nice.” It was one of the things she liked about him, honestly. There was never a need to pretend. “The trigger’s not jammed, one of the springs is out of place. Did you drop this damn thing recently?”
“Isn’t that just sadder? You don’t even like the only people who want to put up with you?” His eyes narrowed at her. “You sticking around here isn’t going to suddenly make me behave myself.”
“Are you trying to get hit? Because that’s all you’re going to accomplish,” she shot back, hands curled into fists at her sides. “Didn’t think it was but you seem about as short on friends as me and I refuse to back down and let you use that as validation for being by yourself. You don’t scare me, Wilder.”
“And how many of those people actually want you around? Or are most of them obligated to deal with you because you’re family?” he returned. A hollow laugh escaped him. “I don’t act like a jackass. I am a jackass who sometimes manages to act nice, but I don’t fucking have that in me today. So fuck. Off.”
That stung, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. “I don’t exactly like being around my family, so try something else.” That was true, at least, but it was mostly because she just felt out of place with them. “No. I don’t know what your damage is but I’m not running away from you just because you’ve got a shit attitude.”
“I have plenty of finesse. But you’re just so much better at it than me, so why wouldn’t I let you do it?”
“Flattery will only get you hit. Save the charm for someone you’re actively trying to nail or manipulate,” she laughed, holding her hand out for the gun. She had one of their grandfather’s old guns, so she knew a thing or two about keeping them working well.
ofviolentdeath 