“I’m sorry to just barge in here on you.” I drop my bag at my feet, careful not to disturb the Glock inside.
“Are you kidding me? Eden, you’re not barging in. This is your home. Whenever you’re ready to come back…this is your home too.”
I try to smile to keep the emotion from my eyes. “Good. Because…I need a place to crash for a little while.”
“Things not working out with Lily?”
That’s the understatement of the year. Especially since doe-eyed sweetheart Lily doesn’t exist. “Not exactly.”
“Well, I hate that it didn’t, but I am so glad you’re here. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
She’s already pulling me up to my feet when I say, “You don’t have to do anything special, Sister. I can just crash on the couch.”
“No, Eden. You have a room here. Come see for yourself.”
Sister leads me down the hallway, stopping in front of a closed door. She peers over at me, those big, brown eyes dancing with glee. “Go ahead. I think you’ll like it.”
Not fully understanding her excitement, I roll my eyes and push open the door.
And I freeze, unable to go any further.
The bedding, the walls…all swathed in shades of muted gray. Gray like the eyes I had stared into just hours before, wishing I could gaze at them until I took my last breath. I know that comforter. I’ve slept with it wrapped around my naked body. The headboard is cushioned, as if it was specifically picked out for me by someone who knew I liked to read in bed. The nightstands and dressers are simple, understated and minimal, as if that same person knew I didn’t care for frivolous furnishings. But where he held back on décor, he more than made up in the killer entertainment and stereo center, along with a bookcase outfitted with every book I had on my online TBR list. There’s even a cushy reading nook placed along the giant picture window overlooking the city. How…how would he know? Why would he even expect that one day I would seek refuge from my reality and need a place to call my own?
“This is my room?”
“Well, it certainly isn’t mine,” Sister laughs. She gently twirls a lock of my silver hair around her finger. “It’s always been meant for you.”
“It’s…it’s…amazing.”
“Thank Mr. Money Bags.” She yawns into the back of her hand and rubs her bloodshot eyes. “I’m going to get a couple more hours. But before I forget, it’s kinda perfect that you showed up today of all days.”
“Why’s that?” I question, tearing my eyes away from the splendor of the room—my room.
“Well, Ben and I were going out for dinner and drinks tonight with a friend—this new guy that works with him that’s really sweet and really cute. I met him a couple days ago, and oh my God, Eden, you have to meet him! I’ve told him all about you too, and he seemed super interested.”
“Oh no, I think I’ll pass,” I groan, smelling a setup from a mile away.
“Please, little sister? Please? It’s just…I just got you back, and I don’t want to leave you here. You don’t even have to hang out with him. Just meet him.”
I shake my head. “Not my scene. You go ahead and have fun. I’d rather get settled in and watch Netflix.”
“Ok,” she pouts. “I’ll just cancel with Ben then. Sucks because we haven’t had a night out in what seems like forever…”
Dammit. I know what she’s doing and I am not about to give in. I am not about to let her guilt me with those puppy dog eyes and that sad, pathetic look on her face. I will not cave.
“Fine. I’ll meet him,” I huff before she turns around to exit.
“Awesome!” she claps gleefully before planting a kiss on my cheek. “You’ll like him, I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah. I better be getting some free drinks out of this.”
“Totally. But for real…I need to get my eight hours. Fridge is stocked and the WiFi password is your birthday. Love you, little sis!”
She plants another kiss on my cheek before she bounds down the hall, springy curls bouncing with every step. It’s always been impossible not to love her. She has been the best part of me—the me I wish I could be. Carefree, driven, thoughtful, kind. I would swim oceans for that girl, and she wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.
I take a few minutes to associate myself with my new room, trying hard to keep the tears at bay at every reminder of L. He did this on purpose. He wanted me to think of him. And it’s worked. Still, I wouldn’t trade this beautiful space for anything, even though I have to stop and deliberately breathe through the knot in my throat every few minutes. Legion had started to become my home. And now he’s created one for me, even when I can’t be with him.
When exhaustion finally finds me, I strip off my jeans and crawl onto the plush bed. It all feels the same, yet it doesn’t. Not without him here beside me. I reach out a hand to the other side—the side that would have been reserved for him. It’s cold. Further reiterating what I had just done early this morning.
I slip on the pair of Bose wireless headphones that had been situated at the entertainment center and connect it to the sleek stereo system on the nightstand. I don’t even know what type of music is already loaded onto it, but when it plays, the tears begin to fall freely into the down-stuffed pillow, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop them.
Kanye West.
No one fucking cries to Kanye West. No one but me.
He hates him. And I played it just to spite him. Just to see one of those rare, unguarded, dimpled smiles and to hear the sound of his booming laughter. And when he looked over at me, silver eyes sparkling with mirth, I finally knew what it felt like to have the breath stolen from my lungs.
Funny how so much can change in the span of a week. What I wouldn’t give to see him shake his head at me with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips just one more time. I’d even eat cellophane veggie chips and desert-dry turkey jerky to have him look at me like that again.
Within minutes, I drift asleep to Kanye asking me why I’m so paranoid. And when I’m pulled from slumber some time later, I realize that those weren’t simply lyrics to the backdrop of a sick beat. They were an omen.
“What the hell?” I yelp, tumbling out of bed and onto the plush, cream carpet. I look up from my spot on the floor and frown. “How did you get in here?”
“The door,” Legion deadpans, his narrow-eyed expression as sharp as his tongue.
“Did my sister see you?” I whisper harshly. Thank God, the door is closed. Her busting in swinging a baseball bat would not be good. Sister is a beast with Brenda, the trusty Louisville Slugger she’s kept at her bedside for years.
“No. She’s asleep.” Legion rakes a hand through his tousled dark hair, a tell of his building aggravation. “You left. I woke up and you were gone. You left me.”
“Well, it’s not like I went far,” I mutter, tugging the comforter back on the bed, and trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes.
“Bullshit,” he barks, loud enough to make me glance at the bedroom door in panic. “You left me. No explanation. No goodbye. You just packed your shit and left.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh, really?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, causing the sleeves of his fitted thermal to stretch across his biceps. “Enlighten me.”
“L…” I release a resigning sigh. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Actually, that’s exactly why I left. I just…I need some time to get my head together. To sort out all the shit that I can’t make sense of. And I need to do that while knowing that you’re safe—that you’re all safe.”
“And what about your safety?”
I shrug. “I was in Hell, L. I lived under his roof, I drank his wine, I ate his food. If he wanted me dead, I would be. I don’t think that’s what he’s after.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe I don’t. But I do know that he’ll be at your doorstep if I’m with you. You’re probably not his favorite demon right now, considering you
stole me right out from under his nose.”
Legion shakes his head, mumbling something I don’t quite understand.
“Huh?”
He exhales heavily. “I said, I didn’t steal you.”
“Um, did I miss something?” I frown. “Pretty sure that’s how Lucifer will see it. I don’t think he’s expecting you to return me.”
“I didn’t steal you, Eden,” he reiterates, the tone of his voice touched with exasperation. He takes the space beside me on the bed, invading my senses with his scent and his sweltering heat. “I didn’t steal you. He let you go.”
“What?”
“He let you go,” he repeats, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. “If he wanted to, he could have stopped me. He had enough time. If he wanted to keep you there, he wouldn’t have sent the guards. He would have come himself.”
“What are you saying?” I whisper, my eyes wide with confusion.
“I’m saying, it was like he knew I was coming, and he did nothing to avoid it. Hell, he could have nullified Gabriella’s magic, if he wanted to. I was expecting a fight—and nothing.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Only that I didn’t get the opportunity to end him once and for all.” Legion lifts his head, pinning me with those lustrous silver eyes. Fierceness gives way to warmth…softness. “Come home, Eden. Let me take care of you.”
I bite down on the yes on my lips, fighting like mad to hold on to what little nerve I have left. “I am home. I’m with my sister. And I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing that my entire life.”
“But you don’t have to anymore. I want to protect you, the way you need to be protected. The way I should have protected you all this time. Let me do it right this time,” he urges, his voice softly pleading. “I need you with me.”
His earnest words give me pause but I soldier on. “Do you? Is it me you want? You need? I can’t be a placeholder for someone else. I’m not a consolation prize.”
“Dammit, firecracker. What can I do to make you see? It’s you. It’s been you since the first night I walked into that corner store. You think I needed to come back—night after night? You think I couldn’t have remained out of sight and let the others handle you? No, Eden. I needed to be near you. I needed to know you.” He leans forward, and presses his forehead against mine. “You. No one else.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, his lips just an inch from mine. I could brush against them on accident. I could slide my tongue over my teeth and taste him without even trying.
“You do know, Eden. You’re just afraid. Don’t be afraid of me. I swear, on everything that I am, I could never hurt you.”
He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand, and I lean into the contact. Just his touch—tender and warm and sensual—is all it takes to reduce my resolve to rubble. I can’t fight him, and there’s no part of me that even wants to. Not when he can make me feel so good. Not when his body is so inviting in a world so cold…
“Hey, little sis, how about this dress—”
The black fabric tumbles from her grasp as Sister takes in the scene before her. Legion and I both jump to our feet and put a good two feet between us. Shit. I don’t know how to explain. And even if I did, there’s no way in hell she would ever believe me.
“Who are you?” she demands, her normally soft features painted with distrust as she looks L up and down, sizing him up. Right about now, I know she’s guesstimating how long it would take her to race back to her room and grab Brenda. Once she starts swinging, that’s all she wrote.
“Um, uh…” Think Eden, think. But how am I supposed to form coherent sentences when L’s presence literally sucks the air out of the room? My brain has been deprived of oxygen for far too long.
“Building handyman,” he replies smoothly. “Your sister called with a report of hearing something scratching inside the walls. I just came by to check it out. Probably just a raccoon seeking shelter for winter.”
“Handyman, huh?” Sister retorts, placing a hand on her hip. “Is it standard for all handymen to sit on people’s beds? People who aren’t wearing any pants?”
Shit.
I awkwardly tug my t-shirt down to my thighs.
“We were just waiting to hear the scratching again,” I lie, trying like hell to school my expression. She could always tell when I was lying. Most times she wouldn’t call me on it, but it was evident that she knew.
“Well, Mr. Handyman, I’m sure we can take it from here. We’ll let you know if there are any more problems.”
She steps aside, giving Legion full access of the doorway. He looks at me one last time and nods before exiting. When we hear the front door close, she snatches up the dropped garment and strides over to me.
“Who was that, Eden?”
“I told you,” I reply diverting my guilty gaze. “Handyman.”
When I look back at my sister, there’s a knowing smirk on her face. “That’s funny. I didn’t see any tools.” She hands me the dress and turns to leave. “Be ready at six,” she calls over her shoulder. “And your handyman is hot as fuckin’ Hades.”
Per her request, I am primped and ready at six on the dot, anxious to get this night over with. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I should be rocking in a corner somewhere, pulling out my eyelashes and talking to myself after what I went through. Less than forty eight hours ago, I was in Hell. Not in the figurative sense. I was in fucking Hell. With the fucking Devil. And I was dancing with him…smiling at him. Allowing myself to fall into the beautiful façade he had created for me. Now I’m going on a quasi blind date with some nice (translation: lame) guy from Ben’s job. Either I’m screwed in the head, or I really love my sister. Any guy that her boyfriend is friends with is not my cup of tea. No offense to Ben—he’s nice. Which is exactly the problem. I don’t do nice. Or easy. Or comfortable. Probably explains my current predicament, but at least I’m consistent.
I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been surrounded by chaos your entire life. Even before I had taken my first lungful of oxygen, I had lived through more horror than most. So I acquired a taste for the harsher things in life. I gravitated towards the outcasts, the troublemakers, the derelicts, because I saw myself in them. And when people are just as bad off as you are, they tend to reserve judgment. Plus it was easier to keep my head down and blend in with the rest of the freaks.
Now here I am, standing in a gorgeous, luxury apartment that I couldn’t afford even if I worked 24/7 at my old job at the corner store. No plan, no direction. I don’t even know if I’ll live to see tomorrow. But I know that I can’t exist in a constant state of fear, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe Lucifer was right. Maybe it’s time that I start embracing who and what I am. Maybe I should just accept the hand fate has dealt me.
“Ready?” my sister, Mary, asks, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Yeah,” I reply with a forced grin. This is honestly the last thing I feel like doing, but I put on a brave face for her. “You look really pretty.”
“You think?” she beams, spinning around flamboyantly. The silver sequin leggings and black blazer compliment her petite, curvaceous frame perfectly. I would kill for her hips and ass. “Just a little something I treated myself to. That dress looks amazing on you too, little sis.”
“Thanks.” I don’t shy away from the compliment—a rarity for me. Considering the last few days—hell, the last week—I should look like hungover death. But the fitted, black sweater dress and thigh high boots she loaned me actually make me look halfway decent. Nothing like the gorgeous midnight blue ball gown adorned with black gems that currently resides in a cardboard box in L’s bedroom, but it’ll do. “So should we head out or…”
Right on cue, there’s a knock at the door. With an exuberance that I had missed, Mary all but skips to answer it and nearly attacks her boyfriend with a kiss.
“Wait until you see her,” she comments, stepping aside to let him in. Well, them in.
“Christian, this is my sister, Eden. Eden this is Christian. He works with Ben.”
He smiles warmly and holds out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Eden. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The first thing I notice is that he’s blonde, with wavy locks that hit right below his ears. Tan skin, a bit over six feet, moss green eyes, and a light dusting of hair on his strong, angular jaw and above his bowed lips. He looks like he just sauntered off some sandy, California beach, and it’s hard for me not to wonder if the body underneath the navy sweater and jeans is comparable to one of a surfer. Still, he’s not my type, but he’ll be nice to look at for the evening. And even if he was my type, there is no way in hell I could look at him as anything more than just some dude Ben works with. My life is complicated enough.
“You too,” I reply, reaching to shake his hand. But the moment our hands touch, something happens. Not a jolt of electricity. Not a weird, tingling sensation. Just something odd. But it’s enough to make an alarm sound inside my head and take a step back.
I’d gotten so used to being around supernatural creatures that I had been forced to avoid using my gifts. But now that I don’t have the Se7en around to have my back, I’m more than thankful for my secret ability.
It takes a little concentration, but after a few seconds, I feel that invisible hand reaching out from my body. Just a gentle caress. If I push too hard, I could hurt myself, or worse—an innocent, unsuspecting guy that just wants to buy me a drink. I narrow my eyes, all my focus going into penetrating his frontal lobe. The very second I’m in, I get that odd feeling again. But there’s no debilitating pain. No bloody nose or nausea.
The first thing I get from him is a touch of nervousness, as if he was looking forward to tonight. Then excitement…physical attraction. He seems anxious, but not overly so, as if he has something to hide. No malice or evil lurking in the dark, dusty corners of his mind.
And after being immersed in a world of hidden agendas and omissions, that worries me. I don’t know how to take it. He’s just human. A regular, All-American human man who is looking forward to our date. Fucking weird, yo.
End of Eden (Se7en Sinners Book 2) Page 13