Claimed by my Brother’s Best Friends
"C'mon, Grayson. The boys can give us a little privacy while you show me where Mom is."
King growls low in his throat, his eyes burning into Gray, but I meet his gaze with a pointed look. "I'll be okay, baby," I promise him, softening my tone. "Maybe you guys can show Zuri some of the pretty flowers."
Gray pulls his hand from mine with an exaggerated huff. "Why are we holding hands? What are we, in Kindergarten?" he grumbles before walking off.
It should hurt my feelings, but I know my brother. He's the ruthless president of the Crimson Reapers, and God forbid anyone see him holding his little sister's hand.
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