Queen of Quarantine (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #4) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,39

hold me too. To anyone outside of us, I was sure it would have seemed strange. But I desired all of these men equally. I craved them like they were four ingredients to my own brand of heroin, catered perfectly to my needs.

“There’s no need to thank us,” Saint said, his jaw tight as he gazed in at me. There was a shadow in his eyes that spoke of how little he’d slept and my heart squeezed for him.

Blake placed his hand to the glass where mine was, moving forward as his brows lowered and an urgent need filled his deep green eyes. “You need to get better,” he croaked, fear flickering across his face at the thought of losing me. My poor golden boy had lost far too much in this world and I wasn’t going to be another scar on his heart.

“I’ll be okay,” I promised. “One of the doctors gave me some cutting edge drugs yesterday and I’ve felt so much better since. I’m just…” I bit my lip.

“What, princess?” Monroe growled, his shoulder pressing to Blake’s but not in a way designed to push him aside. I could see the bond between them had grown since I’d been gone. He fit among them all better than ever, had slid so perfectly into their ranks it was like he’d never been missing from their tribe at all.

“I’m just weak,” I admitted. “I’ve got no energy. It feels like the life’s been sucked out of me.”

“Then we shall put it back,” Saint said, matter of fact. His features were neutral, but the intensity in his eyes hinted at the desperate creature who lived beneath his hard exterior. He was aching for the need to control this situation, to take charge and stand in Kyan’s place beside me. But the trust he had in his brother was iron clad. And I knew he could manage to restrain himself. It was what he did best. I just hoped it didn’t take too much of a toll on him.

“Rest,” Monroe demanded and Saint nodded his agreement, directing the others away from the window, his eyes lingering on me the longest before they walked away.

Blake clapped his hand to Monroe’s shoulder and even Saint was closer to them than he’d usually be, his arm brushing theirs like wolves taking comfort in their pack mates.

Kyan drew me away from the window and I turned around in his hold, my fingers moving intimately along his arms and chest, still trying to convince myself I was really out of that hell hole and back where I belonged.

“What do you need?” he asked, his voice a deep baritone that set my pulse racing. If there was one way to inject life into me, it was being this close to any of my Night Keepers. They set my soul alight and made it burn brighter and hotter than any star in the universe.

“I need…” I thought on it, then noticed the way my hair was hanging lank around my shoulders and a hopeful smile pulled at my lips. “A bath.”

Kyan didn’t make any suggestive remarks as he picked me up and carried me straight into the bathroom and started filling the huge clawfoot tub. I glared at the plain white clothes I’d been given by the nurses where they lay discarded in a corner, never wanting to lay eyes on them again.

Kyan’s gaze lifted as he knelt beside the bath, his hand cutting through the water as he stirred some honey blossom body wash into it. His throat bobbed as he took in my naked skin, but there was no desire in his eyes. There was an arctic, serial killer rage that chilled my bones. His gaze was skimming over the bruises where needles had punctured my arms countless times, the marks no doubt left on my neck by Jonas and finally to my waist which was slimmer than it had ever been, showing off my hip bones far too much. The virus had taken a bite out of me and it was clear to see.

“I’m a survivor,” I told Kyan, needing to say it out loud because I didn’t want a scrap of his pity. “I may have scars, but they don’t define me. Don’t look at me like I’m some wounded animal you want to avenge, Kyan.”

He stood up, his shadow falling over me as he stalked forward and leaned down to rest his forehead to mine. His thumb tracked the length of my spine,