The Raven Four Books 1-3 - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,43
grins from ear to ear. Then he bounds forward, scoops me up into his arms, and slings me over his shoulder, startling the hell out of me.
“I’m keeping her,” he declares as I tug on the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, trying to keep my ass covered. “She’s all mine.” Then he skips toward the doorway.
A giggle slips from my lips. “Dude, put me down before I flash Zay.”
Hunter chuckles. “Maybe you should just flash him. He might chill out a bit.”
I lift my head and sweep my hair out of my eyes, turning my head in an attempt to see Hunter’s face. “Why the hell would seeing my ass make him chill out?”
“Because you have a tight ass and he’s a tight ass,” he quips, which literally makes zero sense for multiple reasons.
I glance over at Zay to see what he thinks about all this and … well, if looks could kill, I would be a dead woman standing right now. Or hanging upside down anyway …
“You haven’t seen my ass, so how do you know it’s tight?” I ask Hunter, gripping the back of his shirt as I feel myself starting to slide off his shoulder.
He laughs as he reaches the doorway. Then he twirls around so he’s facing Zay, leaving me to stare at the hallway. “Dude, our little raven thinks we haven’t checked out her ass,” he states with hilarity.
“I haven’t checked out her ass,” Zay snaps but Hunter just laughs.
“Yeah, right,” he teases. “I know for a fact you have.”
“There’s no way you could possibly know that,” Zay says. “And unlike you, I don’t have to check out everyone’s ass. Hell, you even checked mine out the other day.”
“Only because I could see some sort of weird stick thing stuffed into your back pocket. It looked weird,” Hunter says, gripping the back of my thigh to keep me from falling.
“What was it?” I ask, bracing my hands against Hunter’s back.
“Well, he said it was a knife.” Hunter drapes an arm over my lower back as he repositions my weight. “But I don’t know. I kind of wonder if it was a dildo and he just didn’t want to tell me.”
I choke on a laugh and lose my breath as blood rushes to my head. The combination makes the room spin.
“I told you it was my knife,” Zay says with annoyance. “And you know it was. You’re just doing what you always do—trying to show off.”
“And you’re being moody, just like always.” Hunter shifts his weight, causing me to slide farther down his back. Spots dot my vision.
“Um, I think I might pass out.”
“Put her down,” Zay orders. “You shouldn’t be carrying her around like that.”
“Until there’s a rule I can’t carry her, I’m gonna, because friends can carry each other around. But I’ll put her down for now, because I don’t want to see her black out again.” He lowers me to the floor then positions me in front of him, placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. “It scared the shit out of me the last time you did.”
“I scared the shit out of myself.” I press my hand to my forehead as dizziness continues to consume my brain. “Whoa, total head rush.”
Concern masks Hunter’s expression as he levels his gaze with mine. “Are you okay?”
I bob my head up and down. “Yeah, I’m just a little bit dizzy. Hanging upside and laughing will do that to you.”
“You need to take it easy with her,” Zay tells Hunter as he steps up beside him. “She almost froze to death only hours ago, for hell’s sake.”
Hunter gives a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Sometimes you sound too much like Jax.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Jax’s stern voice sails across the room.
“Crap, we pissed big brother off,” Hunter mumbles to Zay.
“I didn’t do shit,” Zay hisses then turns toward the doorway where Jax is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
“Big brother?” I look at Jax. “Does that mean you’re older?”
Wisps of hair dangle in his eyes as he shakes his head. “No.”
“We call him that ’cause he acts like he’s the boss,” Hunter explains, slipping his hands into his back pockets. “We’re actually all eighteen.”
“Oh.” I peer around at the three of them. Honestly, if I hadn’t met them in the high school, I probably would’ve guessed them to be older.
“How old are you?” Hunter asks, eyeing me over.
“Seventeen,” I say. “I’ll be eighteen soon, though.”