Kissing Skulls *Revised*

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Dustyn came through on his promise, and I kept mine.  New clothes were waiting for me this time when I left the bathroom, and as I joined him in the foyer I didn’t mention a thing. 

Cut and paste—it was like the incident with his father had never happened. 

It didn’t matter that the foyer was a complete wreck, or that Dustyn’s hands were bloodied and bruised as he stooped to sweep chucks of glass into a dustpan. 

Or that I had used all of the fluffy white towels in the bathroom to mop up the water from my bathtub disaster. 

Yep.

If I happened to wonder why one of the dusty suits of armor was currently toppled on the floor in pieces, or why a knife bit into the crown molding, I didn’t mention it. 

I just shuffled over beside him on my bare, pruned toes and watched the way the muscles of his arm flexed as he coaxed the glass into tiny piles with a broom. 

It felt too weird to speak, so I bent to pick up the first scattered weapon I came across, instead; a wicked-looking mace with an intricate design etched onto the handle. 

It was ornate and dusty enough to have belonged in a history museum—though I doubted that this little baby had been used just for show. With a shudder, I realized that—judging from the tiny scratches that marked the side of the metal—the mace must have been used to crush a lot things, in its day.  Really hard things.

Like bones.

Yep.  It was definitely the type of lethal tool you’d want showcased in the entryway of your posh penthouse for any dinner guest to see. 

 “You could totally brain somebody with this,” I announced, warily eyeing the wicked-sharp edge.

I was startled when Dustyn laughed.  It wasn’t exactly a carefree, happy laugh, but it was a laugh alright.  I’d stake my life on it.

 I turned to find him watching me from beneath a fringe of white lashes. His mouth quirked up at the corner.

“Just remind me never to let you near one,” he retorted. 

Ah, the sweet sound of an insult. 

I stuck out my tongue.  “Bite me, Grayson.”

And, just like that, we were back to our much loved banter relationship.

I never thought I would ever miss a verbal sparring match with him—but right now I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Besides, Dustyn, I’ll have you know that I’m fairly good with weapons like this.”  I hefted the mace like a baseball bat and flashed a coy grin.  “Try me.”

Another amused lip quirk—I swear that by the end of tonight I was going to get a real smile out of him.

But, with Dustyn, seriousness always came first. 

“You drop that on your foot and you’ll be lucky to have a toe left.”  He sighed, moving to his feet.  He reached out a pale hand and flexed his fingers.  “Hand it over,”

I pouted, but gave up the weapon.  Then, before he could react, I crouched down and picked up the dustpan and broom he left behind.  I didn’t look up as I began to sweep the glass carefully into a pile, but I could feel him watching me. 

I wondered if he’d try and argue—insist on cleaning up the mess himself.

But to my surprise he didn’t say a word.