When He's Torn (The Olympus Pride, #5)

by Suzanne Wright

“There’s no D in refrigerator. So why the hell is there a D in fridge? It’s not like it would otherwise have been pronounced differently, is it?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on right now? Silent letters?” “Well, they’re everywhere. Castle. Ballet. Climb. Knee. Conscience.” Bailey lifted her shoulders. “Why put letters in places they don’t need to be?” Jesus Christ. “Why do you care?” Deke shot back. She inched up her chin. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”

I could dig out my poleaxe and go stab a fucker.” Deke almost did a double-take. “You have a poleaxe?” She looked up at him, her brows sliding together. “You don’t?” “Of course not.” “Huh. Well, that’s weird.” “Weird?” She tipped her head to the side. “You don’t think so?” “What I think is that you want to drive me batshit.” “Well, it is on my list.” Yeah, that had become apparent. “Any particular reason why?” “Not one that you’d understand.”

A slow smile crept on her face. “Every time we do this staring thing, I feel our connection growing.” He glowered. “Don’t make me drug your drink with holy water—I’m pretty sure it would kill you.” “Nah, I’ve built up a tolerance to it. Not that I’m buying you want me dead. You’d miss me if I was gone.” “Like I’d miss a kick to the crotch.” She wagged a finger. “You secretly adore me. Admit it. You’ve wondered if we’re meant to be.” “I’ve wondered if you’re an omen that the Day of Judgement is almost upon us.” “Flatterer.”

“Have you ever been normal?” he sniped. She grimaced. “And fall into society’s trap? No, thanks.” “Society’s trap?” “Encouraging people to be normal is literally just encouraging them to conform. Blend. Follow. Obey. Be part of the world’s flock of sheep. I’d rather be the predator that hangs not far from the flock, does its own thing, and bites any sheep that piss it off.” She paused. “Why are you pulling that face?” He rubbed at his nape. “I find myself agreeing with you. I don’t like it.” “It does feel kind of weird,” said Bailey with a slight shudder. “Stop it.”

“I haven’t asked either of you a nosy question today.” Aspen shot her a look of disbelief. “Asking if I own a butt plug isn’t nosy?” “You think it is?” Bailey pursed her lips. “Huh. Weird.”

“Now … are you going to buy that skeleton or keep feeling it up like a weirdo?” Havana frowned. “I’m not—We aren’t changing the subject, Bailey.”

“Do you have to be so inappropriate?” “Inappropriate? I’m not the one violating a plastic skeleton.” “I’m not violating it!”

don’t like to ambush and rob people.” Havana threw up a hand. “First of all, that’s a lie. Second of all, it’s not what he meant, and you know it.” Bailey bristled. “Excuse me, I’m no thief.” “You stole my wristwatch,” said Shay, still smiling. “No, you gave it to me,” Bailey insisted. “You called it a parting gift.” His brow knitted, but his smile didn’t fade. “Why would I give you my watch for any reason?” “So I can always know the time obviously.”

Dude, you’re so damn ethical. Don’t you find it exhausting? He frowned. No. Huh. Weird. Feeling his jaw tighten, he typed: No, Bailey, it’s not. Most people have ethics. I pity every one of you.

“Why do you think the giant superhero turns green when mad?” asked Bailey. Deke felt his brows draw together. “What?” “I don’t get it,” she said. “People get red when angry. Why would he turn green?” Deke didn’t even want to know why her thought processes had led her there.

“Don’t play stupid.” “But it’s one of my favorite games.” “I’ve noticed.” “Then you’re just mean for asking me not to play it.” Bailey folded her arms. “My contentment should matter to you.” Aspen tipped her head to the side. “And yet …”

Feeling his lips curl, Deke peered up at his mate, expecting to see her laughing. She wasn’t. Her eyes were glazed over as she stared into space. He squeezed her calf to get her attention. “Are you in a mental world of your own again?” She hummed. “I’m just wondering if colors look the same to everyone else as they do to me.” Deke felt his brows draw together. “What?” “Well … we can’t know for sure that we all see the exact same thing when we look at a color, can we?” she asked. “My version of yellow could be different from yours, and we’d have no clue. And before you go thinking that our eyes can be trusted to see things exactly as they are, just note that leaves are not really green.”

“No one has brainwashed me, least of all scientists. They deal in logic—something I’m aware you fail to grasp.” “Preaching logic is another way to shape and control you. Do what’s rational, follow the rules, blend with the flock.” She cupped his chin. “Don’t let them trap and rule you.” Jesus Christ. “There is no trap.” “You have so much to learn, young grasshopper. Stick with me, kid. You’ll be fine. I’ll open your eyes to reality in time.” “My eyes are wide open.” “And seeing only what scientists tell you to see. Hello, brainwashed.” He released her sweater and threw up a hand. “Okay, this conversation is just plain over.” “It’s a good sign that my questions make you uncomfortable. It means you’re starting to believe I might be right but you’re not ready to face it yet. I can work with that.”