Claws // Colby Brock

💫 36 💫

☯︎☯︎☯︎☯︎☯︎

Lyle wasn't too happy with me for waiting until the apartment was finished to move out. As I examined the place for anything that might have been left behind, he stood in the doorway explaining that I should have told him a lot earlier so he could look for a new tenant during renovations. His constant badgering eventually pushed me over the edge, and I ended up snapping at him on my way out.

"If you gave a damn about me or any of your tenants, Lyle, maybe I wouldn't be moving out. But you couldn't give a shit. I know the team you hired were slackers and supposed to take months to get this place fixed up. Why is that, I wonder? Because they were cheap!

"No one's gonna be paying rent for one apartment for a little while, big deal. Get the fuck over it."

Colby was waiting in the parking lot in my car, patiently staring into space as though he hadn't heard every word upstairs. He didn't mention it on the way back to the house, either.

I didn't have much stuff since most of it was destroyed in the fire — literally anything Lyle didn't drop off when repairs started — so I couldn't make as many changes to Colby's room as I wanted to. If I was being honest, I liked how it was already, I just wanted to antagonise him a little. We didn't fight enough anymore. Being in a mildly healthy relationship was seriously getting boring.

"Ames?"

Despite most definitely being able to hear me rearranging the closet so it was more equal for both of our clothes, Colby called out as he walked into our room. I didn't respond knowing he would be able to follow my scent, and continued hanging up a couple of outfits that had been left in the corner of my untouched closet back at my former apartment.

"Sam's got an update on that hideout," he told me briefly, leaning against the doorframe as I bent down to grab a shirt I'd just taken from the washing machine hidden away downstairs.

"Where is it?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Somewhere north of here. Still California, but not LA."

"They just have to make it difficult," I sighed, bending down once more.

A pair of hands landed on my hips causing me to shoot upright. He held me against him as his lips descended teasingly onto my neck. I wasn't recovering anymore. It had been a couple of days since I got poisoned, so I was back to full working order... and we hadn't done anything since before then.

Refraining from biting my lip like I wanted to, I tilted my head back and asked, "Are we all going up there soon?"

"Just a few of us to scout the place out." His tongue slid out unprovoked and he licked a line straight up to my jaw. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as my knees grew weak enough that I started using him for support to stay on my feet. He slid one hand round my front, trailing up my body and in the centre of my chest before he could take a hold of my throat. "You aren't coming."

The mood was ruined. I batted his hand away and spun around to face him, frowning profusely as he took a knowing step back. He'd expected this reaction, which was probably why he was making the most of my reciprocation while it lasted.

"I can't trust you to make the right decision in the moment right now. Regardless of what you saw outside the arcade, you were going to head out there alone to face a threat."

"I growled," I snapped at him, crossing my arms. "Considering I'm a dog to you, growling should mean 'hey, there's a threat outside, come check it out with me'."

He shook his head. "We're not dogs, too. Use your words."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."