by Lily White
“Who’s Luca?”
“Tanner’s girlfriend.”
His voice is practically toneless on the answer. Distracted. As if what we’re talking about now is only an annoying barrier blocking whatever it is he’s really thinking.
Still, it surprises me. “Tanner has a girlfriend?”
Holy shit.
What woman in her right mind would commit to that man? He’s evil incarnate. The worst of the Inferno, followed closely by Gabe, Jase and Mason.
And why the hell hasn’t Ava told me about this? No, we’re not talking as regularly as we used to, but this is insane information.
Never once has Tanner been so into a girl that he was interested in more than a few hours in bed.
Running a hand through his hair, Damon leans back against a wall.
“Yeah, she was his date at your engagement-“
He cuts that thought off real fast, fury rolling through his expression.
I can’t hold it against him. I feel furious every time I think of it, too. So furious that I’m willing to do anything to break off the engagement.
“Anyway,” he says, dodging the topic, “he’s into her, but it’s complicated.”
That I can believe. There isn’t a situation in this entire world involving Tanner that isn’t complicated.
His picture is next to the word in the dictionary with a see also note directing people to the words treacherous, unholy, deceitful, malevolent, heinous, monstrous and diabolical.
I’m sure I missed a few on that list, but you get the point.
Silence falls between us, and I realize he’s said all he’s willing to reveal about Tanner and the poor woman he tricked into caring about him.
When frustration flashes across Damon’s face, I bring up the point of why I’m here before we veer into dangerous territory.
“What movie are we watching?”
Rubbing at the back of his neck, his fingers squeeze the muscle as if to ease tension before Damon feigns a smile and pushes away from the wall to lead me out of the foyer.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been in their house. We watched a movie here on our second date as well, but I’m still impressed by the minimalist style, the dark stone floors and light grey walls a nod to the modern feel of the house with only sparse accents of jewel-toned color here and there.
I assume they hired an interior designer because decorating isn’t exactly what the twins are known for.
Still, the sleek lines and lack of embellishments practically screams masculine in the space. There isn’t a touch of soft feminine detail to be found.
Even the choice of rooms is telling.
Rather than comfortable living rooms that are light and airy, the twins have pool tables and old-fashioned arcade games, a home movie theater and a home gym.
I’ve never been upstairs to see what’s going on there, but I assume their bedrooms run the same theme.
When we reach the theater room, I drop down onto one of the leather chairs in an effort to keep from being right next to Damon.
Unfortunately, my effort fails.
Rather than taking a seat in one of the other chairs, or even one of the couches, Damon sits down on the coffee table in front of me, wraps his fingers over my calves and leans forward.
“I’m actually kind of glad Ezra isn’t here.”
Crap.
Not good.
Very bad, in fact.
Especially with that look on his face, one I’ve seen once before.
Nervous about where this is going, I attempt to pull my legs away, but his fingers tighten down. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that I know he has no intention of letting this go.
“When is Ezra supposed to be back?” I ask, hoping like hell it’s enough to snap Damon out of whatever this is.
“Not sure.”
Would it be wrong to send an SOS to Ezra? And if I did, what would I say? I have a feeling telling him to get his ass home is something that would require an explanation when he did.
My pulse is a hammer in my throat as I relive the past in stunning clarity. Just one week. That’s all I was given to experience the feeling of being with Ezra.
One week.
Then the promise I made him had to be broken.
And I had to break it because of Damon.
“I think this six-week friend thing is stupid,” he says, which actually soothes some of the dread inside me and fills me with hope.
“Oh, thank God. Me too-“
“Because,” he says, interrupting me before I can agree to end things here and now, “I think we both know that what we have has always been more than friends.”
Damn it.
Damn it all to hell.
“Damon-“
“No, hear me out before you say anything.”
It’s not hard to see he’s on edge.
Damon’s emotions are a hell of a lot easier to read than Ezra’s. They are always right there on the surface, a bomb waiting to explode in everybody’s face if he’s pushed too far.
I wonder if that’s why Ezra is so far on the opposite spectrum. Maybe he has to stay controlled so that he can manage the chaotic energy of his brother.
It makes sense, and in a weird way, it helps me understand Ezra a little better.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at him for what he did at my house a week ago.
Ever since that night, Dylan has been a horror to deal with, his anger and bad attitude making life in my house a living hell.
I’ve tried talking to him several times, but all he does is call me a bartered whore for the family before brushing me off entirely for the friends he constantly has over.
Damon’s voice drags me back to the conversation, and another problem that’s trapped me in place without knowing how to resolve it.
“I’ve been thinking about things a lot, and I’ve figured why you stopped talking to us after high school.”
My heart stutters at that. The last thing I need either of the twins to figure out is why.
Clearing my throat, I swallow down a knot of concern, and realize I need to confront this head on at some point.
“What have you figured out?”
His fingers flex on my legs, a simple twitch that says more than he realizes.
This man is fighting whatever it is he’s thinking, his eyes searching my face as if begging me to agree with him before he’s said the first word.
“I think it’s my fault.”
My eyes close, and I draw in a breath, the truth of those words hanging between us with more weight and significance than Damon knows.
His voice is softer when he shuffles where he sits, his fingers gripping down again.
“You couldn’t tell him about us because I wouldn’t let you. And I feel like a complete dick for asking you to keep it from Ezra. Neither of us wanted to hurt him, and I never should have asked you to lie.”
No.
No, he shouldn’t.
But that wasn’t the only problem.
“So I think, rather than trying to keep that secret, you decided to walk away entirely. And I can’t blame you for that.”
Two secrets, actually.
There were two.
And they were enough to rip the twins apart.
“I don’t want to push him out, but I think it’s obvious at this point-“
Damon’s voice trails off, his expression twisting with frustration, confusion and regret.
“Damn it. I’m still in love with you, Red. It never stopped. Not once. There wasn’t a day that went by in the last ten years that I didn’t think of you.”
My breath is trapped in my lungs, the pain of knowing I can’t love him back slicing my organs like a hundred spinning razors.
I’m bleeding internally at this point, dizzy from the loss of blood, my mind barely able to grasp onto one thought long enough to express it.
Chewing the inside of my lip, I blink away tears I refuse to let fall. I lie to him whi
le staring him straight in the eyes.
“It’s just friends with all of us, Damon. That’s the way it has to be. I’m not going to choose one of you while hurting the other.”
He lunges forward, not in a threatening way, but in desperation, his hands gripping down on the armrests as he cages me in.
All the wild energy this man struggles to contain swirls around me now like chaotic winds, my thoughts, my heart, my breath, my soul tangled up and dancing within it.
But that’s just how it is with him. You’re helpless but to become lost in the way he makes you feel, you’re left vulnerable and open and exposed.
To the woman who will one day be allowed to truly love this man, I feel a twinge of honest jealousy because it’s intoxicating to be caught up in his storm.
Even now my pulse pounds, my breathing is uneven, my thoughts spin and swirl so fast that there’s no grasping on to just one of them.
And he’s beautiful.
Not just physically, but in the way he loves.
Damon is passionate and free. Hot and consuming. He’s so utterly naked and raw in what he feels that you can’t help but feel it, too.
His soul is beautiful. Even with the scars of what’s been done to him. Even with the walls he’s built around himself to keep his truth concealed.
He laughs at what I said.
“We’re not just friends, Red. We never were.”
I can’t argue with him there. From the very beginning, it was full speed ahead with these two.
The few weeks leading up to me making the first agreement of six weeks of freedom and fun had been a chase. They cornered me so easily, so efficiently, and I never questioned it.
Back then, I’d thought it oddly fated, but now that I know the truth of their bet with Mason, I can’t help but feel a little jaded about everything.
The only reason I haven’t thrown that damn bet in their face is because they’ve all but proven it meant nothing to them in the end.
They cared.
They loved.
They fought for me even when I didn’t want them to.
My anger for that bet has more to do with Mason, and I won’t let him forget it.
“You’re right,” I begin to say, not expecting him to lean in closer to me, for his hips to part my legs, for him to cup my face between his hands and press his forehead to mine.
“I know I’m right.”
“No, that’s not what I was saying-“
It’s too late.
Damon is quick to anger.
He’s quick to fight.
He’s quick to take every opportunity that sits in front of him without thinking about what damage it might cause.
And he’s too damn quick to love.
Regardless of who gets hurt.
His mouth is on mine, hot and soft, wet and demanding, our lips parting as his tongue rushes out, filling me with everything he’s feeling.
I’d be a liar to claim I’m not affected, a liar to pretend my body doesn’t light up at his touch.
But it’s not the same.
It will never be the same.
And that’s why I can’t lead him on now.
Grabbing his head much like he’s holding mine, I try to pull away, but he’s so damn strong and so damn insistent.
He burns, this man, a scorching heat that singes my skin and wrecks my organs. Melting when he touches you is never your fault because he’s so full of life, he’s blinding.
Only when he shows himself, though.
Only when he opens up to reveal the person hiding beneath his anger.
“Why am I not fucking surprised about this?”
Now I’m cold.
So fucking frozen that I can feel my muscles ice over and my bones snap apart. My lungs won’t draw in a breath, my heart has run to hide, my pulse is a sluggish, painful thud to hear Ezra’s voice beside us.
Damon pulls away from me and turns to look at his brother. I can’t will myself to do the same.
Instead, I clench my eyes shut like a coward, I bow my head to let my hair fall forward, I want to curl up in a ball and die.
All Ezra does is laugh. Not like this is funny, but more like he’s about to flay the skin from both our bodies before walking away to let us bleed to death.
“Ezra-“
“No, it’s cool, Damon. You don’t need to say a thing. I should have known someone would be up to her old tricks. I should have seen this exact fucking thing coming.”
My fingers curl into my palms, his razor-sharp accusation slicing deep, just the way he’d intended.
“You two have fun. Don’t let me interrupt,” he says as he stalks off, his words lined in fury and a deep, dark hatred.
When something crashes in another room loud enough to shake the walls, I wince in place, my eyes still shut and my fingernails cutting half circles into the skin of my palms.
“Fuck...” Damon curses under his breath.
He took that word right out of my head. Because it’s the only one that accurately states exactly what I’m thinking.
Fuck.
Ezra
This day can go to hell on the first train out for all I’m concerned. It was bad enough waking up feeling like shit for the way I’ve been treating Em, but then to get called to Tanner’s house about the crap that happened to Luca and Ava was a punch to the gut.
I’m already worried for every member of the Inferno, as well as the two women who have gotten close to us, so hearing they were run off the road today didn’t make me feel any better.
If anything, it made me more agitated. And while Tanner and Gabe eventually came to the conclusion it was a random accident, I’m not as convinced.
I kept that thought to myself, though. I’m not entirely sure why, but I tend to let those two run through the process of making decisions about game plans, while I stay silent and fuck whatever shit up they ask when muscle is needed.
Thankfully, it’s rare anything needs to be enforced. Not since undergrad have Damon and I been asked to teach some idiot a lesson, but the deeper this crap gets, the more I’m worried our particular talents will be necessary again.
This situation with the servers is bothering me, though. Our fathers aren’t known for playing fair, and I think Tanner and Gabe are tempting fate by getting involved. I understand their need for revenge.
Trust me.
I understand it.
But at the same time, I’m not sure we’re even in the same league when it comes to our families. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to kill their own sons if it meant protecting their asses. And even though word has gotten out that Luca no longer has the servers, she could still have something they want, and we’re none the wiser about it.
It’s why I don’t believe that car accident was really an accident, and also why I started worrying about Emily even more.
Then again, Emily has always been part of this. Mason’s and her family want the marriage to happen, for what reason, I don’t know. But it’s unlikely she’ll be targeted like Luca.
Ivy was smart to run the hell out of this state. If she’s smart, she’ll keep running and not let Gabe catch up to her.
All of that put me in a shit mood before I returned home. And what I walked inside to find? Yeah. I’m seeing red at this point.
I can hear Damon calling my name as I walk upstairs and down the hall to my room, concern in his voice for what I caught him doing.
What in the actual fuck was that?
I know Emily made mistakes in high school, and I made peace with the fact it was because, technically, she was playing by the rules we had back then. But I can’t write it off as confusion on her part now. Not after what happened with us at her house.
Not after the promises she’s already made and broken.
Slamming my door on the way into my room, I punch a fucking hole in the wall to bleed some of this rage out. I should be better controlled than this, but that woman makes me burn in ways no other person can.
&
nbsp; I drop down to sit on the side of my bed, my head falling into my hands when the door swings open and Damon walks in. I don’t miss how his shoulders are rounded and his stance is wide. He’s ready for a fight just in case I attack him.
“We need to talk about this.”
“You need to get the fuck out of my room before I rip your fucking head off,” I answer, my voice ice cold.
“Ezra, seriously, you need to-“
I snap, my body shoving up from the bed to storm toward him, my hands slamming against his chest as I knock him back against a wall.
Gripping his shirt with my fist, I cock my arm back with every intention of beating his face in, but then a commanding voice screams beside us before I have the chance.
“Stop!”
Our heads turn Emily’s direction to find her standing only feet from us, tears in her eyes that are more angry than sad.
Rage paints a pink color over her pale cheeks, her crimson hair falling in waves down the sides of her face, her lips a thin line of disapproval as she keeps her narrowed stare locked directly on me.
Like I’m the problem here.
Like I’m the asshole who isn’t playing fair.
Like she’s the queen that holds the leash of two dogs going after each other.
She might as well have yelled sit and stay for the way she just gave her order.
“Let Damon go.”
I cock a brow at that because normally I’m not one to follow commands. When I don’t release him immediately, she raises her voice, that seductive fire inside her making itself known.
“I said let him the fuck go!”
My hand spasms when it opens, and I take a step back, my right arm lowering slowly as I meet that turquoise stare, basically daring her to step toward me.
Her eyes abandon mine to shoot across to Damon. “Get out.”
“Red-“
She doesn’t scream at him like she did at me.
“I won’t tell you again.”
I’m almost laughing at her behavior.
Who the hell does this woman think she is walking in here and ordering us both around?
When Damon leaves without another word, my brows shoot up my forehead in surprise.
I won’t lie.
I’m actually a little impressed.
Somehow Emily has managed to get us both under control, and I have no idea how she’s done it.