Rook snorts, a smirk adorning his lips. “I’m sure that has nothing to do with your primal/prey kink the two of you are into.” “Fuck off, Van Doren. You branded Sage’s ass. With a lighter.” Alistair lifts his middle finger in his direction, but Rook’s response is simply to stick out his tongue and wink like a child. “Plus, it wasn’t Briar’s idea. It was Lyra’s.” Thatcher chuckles under his breath, a rare sound that only comes out when his girlfriend is around or mentioned. He presses his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, shaking his head. Lyra is sneaky, going to the girls knowing Thatch
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