Tristan was looking at him again."What are you looking at?" Gabriel snapped.Tristan was trying not to smile. "You tell me."Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Quit being a girl.

Scarlet was in pain all night because she wouldn’t let me sleep with her.

His dark hair was still wet and fell around his head in a tousled way that was too sexy for his own good.Scarlet wanted to run her hands through it - but oh wait. That could kill him.Definitely too sexy for his own good.

They needed a plan. And manpower.They needed Tristan

Tristan frowned, not sure if he wanted to live forever.He hadn't even wanted to wake up that morning.Forever seemed a bit ambitious.

Why is he still here?" she asked, pointing to Tristan. A muscle flexed in his scruffy jaw. Why did he always have sexy scruff. Did the man not own a razor?

He looked at her with his green don't-lie-to-me-woman eyes and Scarlet dropped her guilty gaze to the mahogany desktop, searching around until she found a paperweight shaped like a pyramid to stare at.

Wha—what was that?” Heather lifted a brow. “What was that 'hey bro, make sure the blond chick doesn’t cut any body parts off' look? Because I’ll have you know, I’m an expert with butcher knives.”Tristan pointed at the weapon in Heather’s hand. “That’s a machete.”Puckering her lips, Heather looked at the blade. “Aren’t they the same thing?”“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that. Everybody ready?

Tristan pulled a dagger from his coat— because, apparently, Tristan carted bloody weapons around in his coat—