Finn and Grace were next door, while Jason had Kristen pressed against the wall, kissing her hotly.
Only a wall between them.
Afraid of being discovered, Kristen didn't dare move; his low provocation wound her tight enough to forget how to breathe.
Jason savored the sight of her—pliant and ripe for the taking—those damp eyes, lips flushed from fruit juice, tasting even sweeter under his mouth.
Kristen's mind went white beneath his kiss. Her small hands clutched his collar, breath coming in hungry pulls.
Jason lifted her and set her on the sofa, unable to resist brushing her cheek with another kiss. "Be good. Wait here a minute."
Biting her red lip, Kristen watched him leave with shimmering eyes, then reached up to feel the heat burning in her face.
Strange—one kiss from him and her head emptied out, everything gone.
With technique like that… how many women had he practiced on?
Jason took his time as the staff brought a first-aid kit. When he pushed open the game room door, Grace's shirt was already stained with blood, though the nosebleed had stopped.
Before the staff could set the kit down, Finn grabbed it, popped it open on the pool table, found disinfectant and gauze, and dabbed carefully at the blood by her nose.
Her round little nose was red and swollen now; Grace's eyes were misted and bright, the picture of fragile pity.
Unmoved, Jason stepped aside, lit a cigarette, and smoked at an easy pace.
"Does it hurt?" Finn asked, voice tight with worry.
Grace's tears threatened again, but she forced a brave front. "It's okay."
"No, you need a hospital." Finn turned back to Jason. "I'm taking Grace in."
"No rush." Jason exhaled; the drifting smoke couldn't veil the sharp glint in his eyes. "Dr. Yan's already on the way. While we wait, the staff reheated the dishes."
Meaning: they weren't leaving until the table was cleared.
At the thought of eating that revolting stuff, Grace shivered. "Finn…"
Her words broke into tears.
Finn's brows knit. Confusion and anger flickered in his gaze at Jason.
"Jason—"
He'd barely spoken when Jason's eyes cooled, unreadable. "Can't stomach a loss?"
Finn swallowed the rest of his words.
For men, two lines hit the hardest: "You're not capable," and "You can't take a loss."
"It's just a few snakes," Finn sneered. "I can finish them myself."
He took Grace's hand and headed out.
Passing a side room with its door ajar, his glance slid inside—there seemed to be a shadow of someone—but before he could focus, Grace tugged his sleeve. "Finn…"
He snapped back, worry for her swollen nose washing the shadow from his mind.
The staff had reheated everything. Finn sat, and the mere sight of the spread made his stomach pitch.
Grace, stricken, whispered, "Finn, let me help."
"No." He refused flatly, picked up his chopsticks, shut his eyes, and shoveled food into his mouth.
When he'd thought it was eel, the flesh had been tender and delicious; once he knew it was snake, every chew became torture.
A clammy chill crawled over his skin.
One bite, two, three—
"Urk—"
In the end, Finn couldn't hold it back and turned away to retch.
( End of Chapter )
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