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Seemed like it wasn’t just Hunter chasing monster dick, then. Well—and Danny. I’d only met him briefly, but he had apparently decided on the most monstrous dick of monster dicks. The Soul Eater was… terrifying.
“Tiny horns,” Edin muttered in a conspiratorial tone to Hunter as we approached. He snorted. “So?” “Just saying.”
And they were aimed at Ghost with an embarrassingly obvious expression. Christ, his pupils had practically reshaped themselves into cartoon hearts. I suppressed my wince, glancing down at Ghost’s hand firmly tucked inside Aury’s. Tough break, dude.
“Hunter’s not an introvert,” I said cheerfully. “He’s just an unlikeable asshole.”
Everyone just fucking loved the new human in the camp. Edin’s surly human lover didn’t really speak to anyone or make an effort to ingratiate himself with the raiders, but the one with dark hair and grey eyes—Charlie—seemed to effortlessly draw attention and make people want to flock to him. With his big, stupid smile and smooth, low voice with a southern accent.
My face burned as Hunter and Edin fussed over me like I was their only child getting ready to go on his first school field trip.
He was irritatingly attractive. Even the back of him was. The wide shoulders and long legs. The sword. Why was the sword so hot? He should have looked like a douche.
Yeah, I was attracted to Moth, even though he was an asshole most of the time and in love with a raider. And I was pretty sure that he was attracted to me too, even just a little. I was also pretty sure that he hated it.
“You got me a scarf?” I let out a blissful sigh, my warm breath heating my cold chin and nose under the fabric. “Thanks, Moth.” He grunted, pale eyes flashing to me before he started walking again. “So you stop bitching about being cold.”
Try and think of him like you do Edin, my brain suggested, and I almost physically cringed at the idea. I couldn’t. Mainly because I definitely did not want to fuck Edin—I’d seen what he was packing beneath that kilt; there was no way in hell I’d ever let that baseball bat anywhere near me. But when I looked at Moth, I could never decide if I wanted to strangle him or start tearing off his clothes. He was infuriatingly attractive. His face was like a work of art—almost too perfect to be real. Definitely too perfect to be human. Didn’t stop me wanting to punch it, though.