Donald Trump.

Donald T.

Don T.

Don’t.

Tee shirt.

“Feeling better?” He asked, eyes smug in that masculine way of his. Sunny took another drag of her inhaler and flipped him the finger. Damn that hot, lickable man! What was that? A porno? Methinks the fuck not!

“No thanks to you.” She grumbled, slipping the blue object into her bag. They had been riding in the car for ten minutes, Moony in the back trying his best to ignore them. He was the one who had caught them, Altan’s hand up her shirt and hers on his… you know.

Moony was not amused, Dante, however, asked her to take off her shirt and hit that. He sat in the seat behind Altan, careful not to touch Moony, and whispered dirty things to her. He was a literal child.

He was about to go into the light if he kept it up.

“I’m sorry?” He said, eyes flicking over her. She rolled hers and looked out the window.

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, Sol. I enjoyed it immensely.” He was insufferable and hot. Mostly insufferable. His black hair was tousled from when she thrust her hands into it. Her skin still tingled where his lips grazed. God, she was undone from one touch of his lips. Her! Was she the same girl who swore never to love? Love was fleeting and disastrous for all those involved. Her shoulders wilted and she sighed.

How many departed passed through her with broken hearts? How many did she send on whose biggest sin was cheating on the one who loved them? Her own mother said she would die alone.

“Sunny. Stop.” Moony commanded from the back seat. Sunny jumped in surprise and spun to face him.

“Stop what?” She asked innocently, though she knew perfectly well what she was to stop. They were twins after all.

Moony only looked at her, the look he was famous for. Imagine if Lord Elrond had oak skin and saw ghosts. It was that ‘eyebrow’ thing he did, you know the one.

“Ohhh, he’s giving you ‘The Look’ Sunny. You ‘bout to get your ass whooped good.” Dante cackled, yes cackled, and clutched his side. As if he was the best thing since sliced bread. And we all know that’s Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy. All fat, of course, her momma didn’t raise no baby backed bitch.

“I apologize, Moony, for what I was thinking about myself in my own private thoughts.” She conceited, eyes downcast and a soft pout on her lips, for postary that is.

“Thank you…” Moony was interpreted by Sunny’s soft coo.

“Oh, who is that cutie?” She purred, pressing herself against the window. She caught the sharp tang of jealousy before it was snuffed.

“Lauchlan O’Maggan. We call him Mag.” Altan droned, seemingly uninterested in the whole affair.

“Huh?” Sunny said, very intelligently. She turned to look at the wolf and tilted her head. What was up with him, he seemed fine a minute ago?

“The man, or werewolf if you want to be technical, is a fellow pack member. His name is Lauchlan O’Maggan.” Altan nodded his head in the redhead’s direction. Sunny spun back around and stared.

“Oh, you meant the dude.” She said as if all made sense once again.

“Did you not mean the ‘dude?’” He mocked her with the last word. Sunny scoffed as if that pasty white boy could ever churn her butter. Besides, he looked like the could bench press a building. He’d break her in half.

“No, I meant the dog.” She pointed to said dog to solidify her point. Altan leaned forward, they were at a light that seemed to hate them, to see better. He smirked.

“Yes, that is Lauchlan and Emilia.” He supplied, waving slightly at the brown dog, who wagged her tail in greeting. She was a gorgeous chocolate color, though Sunny was biased because everything chocolate-colored was better, she was also covered in scars where her fur didn’t grow.

“Poor baby.” She soothed, eyes soft and sweet as she gazed at the dog.

“Hardly, she could rip out your throat in one lunge.”

“So could I, yet you still feel pity for me.” She said, turning around to face him. His face was surprised and he stumbled over his words. “Don’t lie to me Altan, it offends us both.” She paused and nodded her head at the front. “Light’s green.”