that you’re considering slipping down that cock. You, Remi, want that Van Helsing dick with a fever burning through you.”
“Can we move before I end up with an actual fever—mortal, remember?” I muttered, hating that her words spoke true, hitting home so hard that I couldn’t argue with them. I wouldn’t lie to her, not to Nyx. She was my person when I needed to vent or when my emotions conflicted with my priorities.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Remington. Tell me you don’t want Rhys,” she continued, holding my arm, starting us in the direction of where she’d smelled men.
“You know the truth, so why ask? You know me better than anyone else. The thing is, he is my enemy. Not to mention, I don’t trust him. Every time I start to let my guard down, he pegs me so hard in the ass that I feel him in my lungs. He called every alpha to his bar and announced to them all that I existed. He’s just placed a huge target on my bloodline, and my mother is still missing. I had enough shit to worry about before I met Rhys Van Helsing, and now he’s just another thing that I have to deal with.”
Male voices sounded from somewhere in front of us, and Nyx fixed her wet hair, smiling as we entered what looked like some semblance of a yard. Two men turned, staring at us as we made our way closer to where they watched us.
“Are you guys okay?” one asked, slowly stepping closer.
“Great, wrinkly vaginas and all,” Nyx snorted. “Can one of you be a sweetheart and suck the other off for a few?” she asked sweetly. My eyes dropped to their skinny jeans; her biggest pet peeve. One of the men wearing loafers with matching jeans and a tight tank top blushed and grinned to himself, turning away from his friend as he considered Nyx’s suggestion.
“We’re not together. Not like that,” the other snorted, although the thought didn’t seem to put him off as he puffed out his chest, magnifying the embroidered trout on his very non-salmon-colored pink shirt.
“Oh, well, you can stand guard then, and make sure no one gets past you into the cabin until morning.” She smirked as their eyes studied her with lust.
“I’m going inside,” I muttered, moving into the house to peel off the wet clothing.
In the bathroom, I turned my head, staring at the large gash above my ear. I fumbled around the bathroom until I found a first aid kit and used gauze to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol. Once I’d tended to it and several smaller abrasions, I entered the cabin’s main room and pulled a shirt out of the dresser, slipping it over my head. I searched for sweats, finding some in the last drawer, pulling them on and tying the waist as tight as it would go.
Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling. The sound of moaning men filtered in from outside, and I sighed. When Nyx entered the cabin, I frowned, peering between her and the window where the moaning continued.
“It is wrinkly! Oh my God, it looks so wrong.”
“Nyx, stop playing with your grandma vag and get in bed.”
“You did not just call it a grandma vag! Take it back! I’ll never forget you said that. It’s mean, seriously mean. I thought we were friends?”
“It will only be a grandma vag until it dries. Stop overreacting. You know, even if it were wrinkly, men would still want it.”
“That is true,” she agreed, and the sound of her searching the room replaced her complaints as my eyes grew heavy, and sleep settled over me.
Chapter Eighteen
Something touched my head, and I groaned. Opening my eyes, I stared up at Rhys and Cole, who both watched me before taking in the crumpled male clothing. My eyes slid to the window, revealing it was light outside, and yet Nyx continued to slumber, oblivious to the men in the room, which told me I was dreaming. She was one of the people you couldn’t sneak up on because people had too much sex running through their minds nonstop, which gave them away.
“Go look around the other room, Cole. Find an address,” Rhys ordered softly, his hand still examining the wound. “You’re hurt, Remi. Why the hell would you run?”
“Because you’re the enemy, Van Helsing,” I groaned, sitting up as he backed away, lowering to his haunches in front of me, silently staring.