Page 93 of Fool Me Twice

“Part of the curse?” Black asked, laying out his case and pulling a chair out to sit beside him.

“Not exactly. Just people who want to kill me,” Cane said.

“Righteous.”

“Because you were cursed,” Hart said. Fuck, he needed a cigarette. “They wouldn’t have been after you otherwise.”

“Oh, I dunno. They seemed a little too eager to band together and do me in. Feels personal,” Cane said.

“What?”

“It was a joint hit. The whole underbelly of the city wants me dead.”

Black whistled and side-eyed Hart for a second. “You’re a hell of a catch, aren’t you,” he said to Cane.

Hart clenched his jaw, refusing to blush and finding it surprisingly very easy not to. He had to assume his brothers had heard them. He didn’t know why it suddenly didn’t bother him much. There was a part of him that was screaming to be mortified, but it was muffled under a blanket.

He shook his head, trying to clear it as Black examined Cane’s face and grabbed the things he needed. He was all too thrilled to be able to both look under someone’s skin and poke them with a needle to stitch that skin back up. His hands were steady and precise as he wrapped up the stitches on Cane’s cheek, smiling up at him like he’d just made a new best friend.

Hart bristled at the look, and at the hands lingering on Cane when there was no need for them to be there any longer.

“Thank you, Black,” he said, voice curt and sharp, but Black didn’t really care about it.

“No problem,” he chirped, cleaning his things and putting them away in the box. “Anything else you need me to look at? Sure there’s no guts spilling anywhere?”

“No guts,” Cane said.

“Too bad,” he said. “I’ll go join the others in the living room. I’d uh…be prepared. We were all pretty shocked.”

“Thanks,” Hart said through his teeth, relaxing only when Black left the room.

“What the fuck was that, sweetheart?” Cane asked.

Hart turned his head to look at him. “What was what?”

“Were you jealous of your brother?”

“Why would I be jealous?” he asked, knowing he sounded too argumentative for it to work. “You like him or something?”

“He’s sweet,” Cane said, judging Hart’s reaction. Hart couldn’t help but give it though, like he had no control over the rising anger. The desire to suddenly and viciously grab Black by his angelic curls and rip.

His heart hammered against his ribcage and his hands shook.

“I never cared for sweet though,” Cane finished.

Hart tried to swallow his response. He swayed on his feet for a second, his insides burning with the need to just stay inside and be with Cane. To never leave his room again. Cane was his.

He walked toward him, knowing Cane could recognize the look in his eyes.

“Your brothers are waiting,” Cane warned.

“Let them wait,” he said, straddling him on the bed.

Cane grunted in pain when Hart leaned forward to try and invade his mouth with his tongue. He broke the kiss before Hart could take it further.

“What is up with you?” Cane asked, holding his biceps tightly and peering into his eyes.

“Nothing is wrong with me,” Hart said defensively, getting off Cane. “Why does something have to be wrong with me?”