Sloth Day

It’s International Sloth Day!

Of course that means a Sylum Snippet!

Luther glanced through the open door to watch his Mate resting.

Another Mission.

Saved the World.

Again.

This time it was mere seconds, and he wasn’t sure if Ethan’s emotional well being will come out of this fully intact.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously when Ilsa barged into the medical tent, straight to his Mate.  ‘Bitch, if you think for a second I’m going to let you screw with his mind, any more than you’ve done…’  Luther stalked into the room, to stop short when he heard what she said.

Oh No.

Hell No.

Fucking Hell No.

This is going to call for the emergency sloth.  He stalked out of the tent, towards the truck, which shocking wasn’t blown up or tossed off a cliff, yanked the back door open, dug out the black bag, and headed towards the tent.  He pushed past Benji, who gave him a concerned look, and figured best to leave them alone.

Isla had left, leaving behind the destruction.  Woman was fucking hurricane, that made landfall at the worst moments, wreak havoc, then leave.

Luther put the bag on the bed, unzipped it, yanked out the stuffed sloth and put it on Ethan’s chest, at the same time pulling out the bag of mini chocolate bars.

Ethan gave him a sloppy smile, hugged the sloth and went straight for the Mr. Goodbars.   Luther shifted him enough, so he could lay next to him.  “We’ll figure it out.”

“Oh I know how to fix it.”  Ethan gave his Mate a determined look. “Lane needs to die.”