“Well, it’s either you or me, and I doubt you want me indulging when I’m about to dig around inside your body.”

That’s an excellent point. I take the nip, remove the lid, and throw the whole thing back. It tastes filthy, like a mouthful of nasty, burning bile, and it’s lucky I’m at the point where throwing up over myself won’t make much of a difference to how disgusting I am.

My feet dig into the mulch beneath my shoes, and somehow, I keep it all down. Considering St. Clare isn’t far away and he’s watching me, I’d like to look a teeny bit impressive. The last thing a guy wants is for the guy he hooked up with to regret the whole experience. Especially since I wouldn’t mind it happening again.

“Shirt off,” Everett says.

I drag my attention back from St. Clare. “I think I’m going to need some help with that.”

“I can cut it off?”

“No.” I grip the front of my T-shirt. “It’s my favorite shirt.”

“It’s covered in blood.”

“Just needs a good soak.”

“Whatever you say,” he mutters, helping me peel the shirt up and over my head. My good arm is easy enough to pull out, but it takes some careful maneuvering to peel it from the wound and get it off the other one. The prickling of the cool air picks up with the breeze, even with the fire right next to me, and I’m probably getting frostbite or pneumonia at this point, but at least I still can’t feel it. Despite how much I’m fucking shaking.

Everett picks up what looks like a long, thin knife. “Three … two …”

I’m waiting for one when he stabs me with the damn thing, and a very unmanly squeal bursts from me. “I wasn’t ready!”

“That was the point.”

My teeth clench tight as Everett digs around in my shoulder, and now he’s started, all I can hope for is that he doesn’t bust up something vital that will lose the control of my arm. It’s a very nice arm, and we’ve been through a lot together. Shooting guns, carrying my bracelet, and all those times it’s helped me eat, drink, and jerk off.

“Is it actually in there?” I ask through my clenched jaw. “Or are you just enjoying stabbing me?”

“I can enjoy stabbing you and have it be in there, Perry.”

“My mistake.” If you’d asked me a few minutes ago whether this could hurt more, my answer would have been no, but look at that, Ever is managing. I glance over and finally catch St. Clare’s eyes. “Have I mentioned yet how very, very sorry I am for shooting you?”