Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

I fucking hate her and how much my body never forgot about hers.

Those soft curves beckon me close as her back arches off the bed. She has grown up into a slender, tight figure. My cock twitches with the need to feel her clenching around me instead of her fingers.

My strokes turn faster and harsher as if I’m punishing myself for the mere thought of wanting her. When she stills, her body trembling, I grunt and come all over my hand. A shudder shoots down my spine as I breathe harshly into the night’s cool air.

Instead of relief, pressure tightens my muscles and I throw my head back in a tension-filled groan. Mist remains motionless with one finger in her mouth and the other under her gown.

Who the fuck is she thinking about after her orgasm? The fact that she just masturbated for another man turns my vision fucking black.

Fuck this. I’m done watching from afar, anyway.

I retrieve my rifle, disconnect the detachable magazine and the threaded barrel and place all of them in the case before hiding it back in the wall.

I jump down the stairs three at a time and storm into Le Salon. It’s past one in the morning, so the chaos weaned out. The customers either left or are receiving special service in the rooms upstairs.

Scar trudges down the hall that leads to Mist’s room. She’s wearing tiny black shorts and a pastel yellow T-Shirt on which is written, ‘Bonsoir, Bitches’

“Hawky!” She runs towards me, doing a look over.

Scar and Flame suspect something is wrong with me since I returned from The Pit, but they know better than to ask me about it.

Her hand surrounds my bicep as she whispers so only I can hear her. “Okay, spill. Do you know what happened to Nero?”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Mist looked at you like a drama queen about to faint.” She pushes her lips forward. “You’re hiding something.”

“The less you know, the better.” I ruffle Scar’s messy blonde bun.

She swats my hand and sticks out her tongue. “Hey, just because I act like a kid doesn’t mean you can treat me like one!”

I smile despite myself. “You’re not a kid, Scar, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Depending on how you look at it, it’s the same thing!” She grins and it’s one of the fewest times she doesn’t have to put an act to make it genuine. As soon as the smile appears, it drops as she glared behind me. “Molly. Never liked the bitch.”

The girl in question saunters from around the corner, her cheeks hollowed due to sucking from the straw in a huge paper cup while she scrolls through her phone. With her hair and lips dramatically pink, a short denim skirt, fishnet stockings, and boots, she appears right out of the eighties.

Usually, I don’t give a fuck about other assassins — especially the second generation ones. However, Molly caught my interest because she’s become the closest to Mist and her ally of sorts.

It’s not that I dislike her, it’s more that I don’t trust her.

But again, I hardly trust anyone.

Molly pauses slurping her drink and clicks her tongue while checking me up and down. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but you better stop.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

Her posture hunches forward as if to attack. “It is.”

Scar laughs in a long, fake sound. “He can squash you like an insignificant ant. Learn to play with people your size, Goth girl.”

Molly flips her hair back and smirks. “That’s rich coming from a shorty like you.”

Scar is about to say something but is cut off when Mist’s door swings open. She walks outside, wearing a long-sleeved robe over the nightgown from earlier. It’s tightly secured around her slender waist, and I replay the picture of her fingers sliding inside her and my cock wishing it could replace them.

Mist must’ve felt my gaze on her because she crosses her arms under her chest. She thinks she’s being defensive, but all I can focus on is the tightening of her breasts against her robe. They’ve become bigger and more mouth-watering since the last time I touched them.

“What’s going on here?” Her hard gaze strays from Scar to Molly, making sure not to meet mine.

Run away, Hellion. See where that takes you.

Molly jogs to Mist and clings to her arm like a lost kid who found her mother. “They were bullying me, Misty.” She casts a sly, secretive smirk at Scar.

I squint but guard my silence.

Mist cuts Scar a glare so harsh, it would’ve brought a weaker person to their knees. “Molly is my guest. Learn to respect her.”

Scar tilts her head to the side with a manic smile. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick you out of here.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” Molly sounds like an innocent damsel in distress. Once Mist isn’t looking, she smirks at Scar.

“You might be the madam, but...” Scar motions between herself and Mist. “We’re equals. You have no power over me, witch.”

“We’ll see about that.” Mist’s face remains as cold as a stone and she’s not even glancing my way.

She’s strong, I give her that. But again, if she could stab me in the back without blinking, then she ought to be a heartless monster.

Molly waggles her eyebrows, giving us taunting looks. Scar starts forward. I clutch her arm and pull her back. She’ll murder Molly with her bare hands if she keeps provoking her. That will make her Mist’s enemy, and that’s off the fucking table.