The Viper's Nest (Kit Davenport #4)(40)

Gaelin snapped his fingers, and the familiar pull of the evaporating dreamscape deposited me back into normal sleep.





16





KIT





The morning after my flight with Cole and Vali, I found Austin still in a foul mood, and it was seriously wearing thin on my patience. Vali’s words of advice kept me from punching him clean in the teeth, as did my own insight into his conflicting emotions, but a girl can only take so much surly behaviour before she’s going to crack.

“Okay, I’m done,” I announced around lunchtime when Austin had been giving me all but the silent treatment for going on five hours.

“Excuse me?” he snapped, and I couldn’t help myself, I flicked him in the forehead.

“You’re being an asshole. Like, way more than usual. Our bet is over, and there is no pressing need for me to learn this all today, so I’m done. We can pick up again tomorrow when you’ll hopefully be in a better mood.” I beat a hasty retreat out of the den while Aus sat there with a stunned look on his face, like he could hardly believe I just done that. I guessed he didn’t get flicked overly often, but it seemed to have the desired effect of shutting him up.

“Hey sweetheart,” Wesley greeted me with a tired smile as I entered the kitchen. “You done already?”

“Um, yeah. Sort of. What are you up to?” I nodded to the car keys in his hand.

“Just on my way out to grab a part for something I’m working on. Or... hoping I can grab a part. There was a little computer shop in town, but I have no idea how well it’s stocked.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “Want to come with?”

I considered it for a moment, then shook my head. “Nah, I’m thinking I might bake something. For some reason I’m super in the mood for sugary baked treats today, and there’s nothing in the pantry.”

“Okay...” Wesley frowned slightly, looking concerned. “Do you know how to bake?”

I gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to my chest as though clutching at invisible pearls. “Wes, how dare you imply I can’t bake!” I grinned as I said it because, admittedly, I might be a little rusty on my kitchen skills. It wasn’t my fault though; I had six guys in the house who seemed perfectly happy handling all of the cooking!

“Okay, sorry, sweetheart. I should never doubt you. Um, the rest of the guys are still home, so you’ll be okay for an hour or two... right?” He frowned again, this time looking more nervous than my questionable baking skills really warranted.

“I’ll be fine, Wes. I promise not to burn the kitchen down.” I pulled him close using the pockets of his hoody and kissed him. “Go have fun in the tech store. I’ll have awesome cookies ready when you get back.”

He still looked worried, but nodded and left all the same, leaving me to make the cookies that I knew he’d love as much as I would. I wanted to cheer him up a bit. After what he’d told us about his dream visitor, I could tell he was getting down on himself for not being able to chase away my nightmares. As amazing as it was having him do that for me, it wasn’t necessary. I’d survived them my whole life.

I could do it again.

Pulling out my phone, I quickly brought up a recipe I knew I’d made successfully before and hunted through the pantry and fridge for everything it might need. Luckily we had everything already stocked, so that was the first hurdle tackled successfully. I had in the past made substitutes for ingredients that I didn’t have, and the results varied from passable to downright awful.

Just as I was measuring all the dry ingredients into a big mixing bowl, the door to the kitchen slammed open and Austin stormed in.

“You flicked me!” he exclaimed, coming to a stop right beside me at the island counter.

“Ah yeah,” I agreed, continuing with my flour measurements. “Like fifteen minutes ago. Don’t tell me that was your off switch and it took you this long to reboot?”

“Christina,” he growled, and I could feel his anger coursing hot, stoking my own back up once more.

“Kit,” I corrected him with narrowed eyes.

“We aren’t done with your lessons.” He spoke with a jaw clenched stubbornly and his brows drawn into a tight line.

“Yes, we are. You’re being a petty, snarky little child, and I have had enough of it. I put up with your little mood all fucking day yesterday, and I have had it. So, fuck off. Sort yourself out, go punch a tree or whatever, just get your mixed-up, crazy-pants emotions away from me right now. You’ll taint my cookies.” I dismissed him, continuing on with my recipe.

“No.” The stubborn asshole dug his heels in, folding his arms over his chest and blocking me from getting to the fridge to retrieve the butter. “No, that’s not how this works. You don’t get to stand there all high and mighty and tell me that my emotions are tainting your cookies. Not after you keep me awake all fucking night with your screaming orgasms with practically everyone in this house other than me. I have every damn right to be pissed off at you, and you are not allowed to just wave me off.”

“Oh, so you’re calling me a slut now?” I yelled back at him, pushing him out of the way to grab the butter out of the fridge and bring it back to the island.

“No, you dense bitch! I am not.” He slapped the stick of butter out of my hand, and I gasped as it hit the floor. Without really thinking about what I was doing—something I was doing a lot of lately—I reacted on instinct. And slapped him across the face.