Butcher & Blackbird (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #1)

by Brynne Weaver

For those of you who read the trigger warnings and said “Accidental cannibalism?! Count me in!” This one’s for you.

:(

Blackillac)

Read that as Ballsack

No bra. The thought echoes through my brain like church bells on a bright Sunday morning.

Y'know I actually don't think it does.

“What are you doing?” “I’m boobing boobily, Rowan. What does it look like?”

LMAOAOAOAAOAAAAOOOOOOOOOO

Gold star! Two gold stars! One for each boob.”

Real

“Blackb—” “Don’t you Blackbird me. That can-can motherfucker stamped my fucking forehead. I can even see the Carhartt logo on it,” she says, her voice taking on a watery quality as she draws closer to the mirror before turning back to me, a tear spilling over her lashes as she leans over the center console and points to the circle in the center of her forehead. “See? Right there. Carhartt. Why couldn’t he have just punched me in the face like a normal person?” “Probably because he wasn’t a normal person, love. I thought the chainsaw was a big clue.”

😔

“Then who the fuck is this crutch-stealing fleabag?” “He’s Rowan,” Sloane says, gesturing at me again. Rose narrows her eyes as though this is insufficient information. “He’s my f-fr…boy. Guy. A man-guy. I’m…with. Here.” I snort a laugh as Rose’s face scrunches. “Man-guy,” I echo. “Real smooth, Blackbird.”

Man-guy 🤩🤩🤩

“He’s asking to confirm your childhood nickname.” Blood drains from my extremities as my gaze darts to Sloane. I shake my head. “No.” That seems to delight the hellcat—Rose’s responding smile is fucking feral. “Great. Then I knife you in the balls.” “Yeah? Hobble over here and try it,” I snarl. I try to poke her with the rubber end of the crutch but Sloane bats it away. “For fucksakes, you two. I’ve got a messed up arm here. I need a doctor,” Sloane says, shifting side-to-side at the waist to give a demo of her limp appendage. She turns enough to give me one sad-puppy eye. The longer she stares at me, the more my resolve crumbles. Her lower lip juts out in a pout, and even though it might be fake, I know I’m a fucking goner. “Help me, Man-guy.” A long groan rumbles in my chest as I drag a hand over my face. “Fuck. Fine.” Both women watch me with unwavering stares, their eyebrows hiked in anticipation. “Shitflicker.” They face one another. There’s a moment of blessed silence. And then a fit of giggles.

“Okay, Shitflicker. I guess you passed the test. Fionn will be home in fifteen to sort you out.” “Hold on a second. You haven’t told us why the fuck you’re here,” I say as Rose rakes a dismissive smirk over my features. “Maybe I’m Fionn’s Girl-chick, Mr. Man-guy Flick-a-shit.” Sloane snorts a laugh. I take her good elbow, guiding her to the couch as I keep my glare pinned on Rose. “God help us all.”

“I thought I said something about taking it easy,” he argues instead. “Getting rest. No rough…sports.” Rowan’s grin is nothing short of diabolical. “We weren’t playing sports. We were having sex.” Rose cackles at the table and stuffs another bite of waffle into her mouth. “Amazing. I love these two. Can they stay?” “No.”

“Now be my good little bird and name me the most random fruit you can think of. The first thing that springs to mind.” I don’t even really think about it. I just speak. “Persimmon.” There’s a beat of silence. Rowan relaxes behind me, as though the pent-up tension in his chest has spirited away. “Yes. Persimmon. That’s an excellent idea, love.”

What the FUCK is persimmon

…A purple dildo that matches his outfit. A dragon onesie costume. “Rowan Kane, what the fuck,” I say as I cackle with disbelief. “I’m not Rowan. I’m Sol,”

OH MY GOD I LTERALLY KNOW THE MONSTERFUCKER SMUT THIS IS REFERENCING. STOP. IT'S BY KATEE ROBERT. A DRAGON BRIDE???