An Apple Between Two Teeth

The long silence was murdered by Jazz.

"It's good you know the genie," he said. His voice was low, curling like smoke. "You know his weakness."

"Not exactly," Killian replied, his tone measured. He slowly removed his hand from Ru's shoulder, as if feeling the heat of some invisible flame. "But I have a feeling about him I can’t shake."

Ru missed the weight of that hand far more than he wanted to admit.

"I hate him," Killian admitted, almost ashamed of the emotion. As the word left his lips, he rubbed his wrist, as if trying to wipe something off. His gaze dropped for a moment, and a small furrow formed between his brows—as if he didn’t like the way the word tasted in his mouth.

Jazz’s grin spread slowly, too wide, too deliberate. His voice, when it emerged, oozed with a quality reminiscent of venom cloaked in allure.

"Finally," he said, scooting closer to Killian without the slightest hesitation. "A hatred that brings us to common ground."