Bad Things(97)

Tristan stiffened at the contact, turned off the burner on the stove, then started to turn, looking as surprised as I was to have a naked woman in the kitchen. I couldn’t even have said if she was pretty, I was that distracted by all of that naked skin.

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her, now pressed into his side. Or rather, one fake tit was plastered to his side, one to his front, just below his chest.

“Uh,” he began, obviously at a loss for words.

The skank gave him a brilliant smile. Dammit, she was pretty. “I’m Kendra. From four nights ago. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t think you’d remember my name. We didn’t do much talking.”

I was gripping the plate so hard that I felt it dig into my fingers, and still, I gripped harder.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back, until her implants where no longer making contact. “Okay, Kendra. But what are you doing here now, and where are your clothes?” He had the careful tone of someone talking to a crazy woman.

“I came here last night with Dean. I was hoping to see you again. I think I left my panties in your room. Will you help me go find them?” Her tone was all sleazy insinuation.

I quite simply lost my mind. The plate in my hand went flying, crashing into the wall above their heads. Another plate was in my hand and flying before anyone could react. Miss Fake Tits went running for it, but Tristan, the fool, started moving toward me, ducking plate after plate. I broke at least six before he made it to me. I didn’t look down to check, but I was pretty sure that was all of them.

One look at his face showed me that he wasn’t mad, which shocked me into immobility just long enough for him to get his arms around me in a hold that kept me from reaching out and breaking more of his things.

Why wasn’t he mad? I’d just tried to maim him and a topless slut that he had apparently slept with four nights ago.

I didn’t even speak. All that I’d had to say had been said with the breaking of six white plates.

He spoke, murmuring apology after apology into my ear. I found that so strange that I didn’t even process it right away.

A shirtless Dean burst into the kitchen, with not one, but two naked skanks at his back, the one before, and a redhead. He started yelling as he took in the damage.

“What the f*ck, man? I was sleeping, and you’ve got some chick breaking f*cking plates in our kitchen? And Kendra tells me she tried to hit her with one!”

“Go back to bed, Dean,” Tristan told him, sounding riled, which he hadn’t sounded when he’d been talking so softly into my ear. “This is not your business.”

“Of course it’s my f*cking business,” Dean said. “This is my f*cking place, too.”

“What’s your problem?” Topless Kendra asked, speaking to me, I assumed.

“Her problem is that she’s my girlfriend,” Tristan answered. “And she was just disrespected in my home.”

Kendra’s lip shot out in a pout. “You didn’t have a girlfriend four nights ago,” she pointed out.

“We were on a break, but we aren’t anymore. Dean, get them out of here.”

“Fuck you, man. You get to keep that cunt around, and I have to get rid of them?”

I felt Tristan stiffen against me. His voice when he spoke was scary. “I’m only going to warn you once. You talk to her or about her like that again, we’re going to have a f*cking problem. Apologize, and then get the f*ck away from me before I take your ass to task for what just came out of your mouth, and this ends with more than a warning.”

Dean cursed under his breath, turned on his heel, and left the kitchen, muttering a very insolent, “Sorry,” under his breath.

Slut one and slut two followed quickly behind him.

Tristan bent, scooping me up into a cradle hold, and carried me to his room.

He bent, laying me out on the bed. He lowered himself over me until he was pinning me down with his body, chest to chest, thighs straddling my hips. He pulled my arms up high, pinning them over my head with his hands on my wrists.

He brought his face very close to mine, his golden eyes gone soft. “I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, and I thought I should probably apologize for breaking all of his plates, and trying to hit him with them in the process, but I just couldn’t do it. The man made me lose my mind, and I was still upset about that.

Still, there was one thing, one question, that persisted, dominating my thoughts more than anything else that had happened.