by KV Rose
Slowly, she nods, but doesn’t say a word.
“And you?” I prod her, hating the silence, not wanting her to ask. Not wanting to tell. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, baby?” I stroke her hair with one hand, keep her pressing against me with the other as I lean back against the door of the oven, still warm from the cookies inside.
She takes a deep breath. Exhales. “I fell in love with my mom’s boyfriend.”
“Is he the one that hurt you?”
She tenses in my arms.
“It’s okay.”
She doesn’t speak.
“Did he hurt you, Ella?”
Silence.
“I got hurt, too. By my…nanny.” My throat feels thick, scratchy. I’ve never said that out loud. “It’s okay, Ella.”
“More than once. And I wanted it,” she blurts out.
I keep stroking her hair, squeeze my eyes shut.
“I wanted it,” she whispers again. “When Mom was out. I wanted him to. But he was…” she trails off.
I hug her tighter to my chest.
“He was rough.”
“I’m rough.”
“Does that make me…wrong?”
I almost laugh. I’m the wrong person to be asking about that. “No, baby. It makes you…a product of psychology.”
She pulls away from me, and I see tears gleaming in those green eyes. Tears, and a smile curling on her lips. Then she cups my face, bursting into laughter. “A product of psychology?” she mocks me.
I smile back at her.
The timer for the cookies goes off, and I inhale the sweet, warm scent.
She stares at me, and I don’t move.
A tear falls down her freckled face.
I brush it away with my thumb, the timer still bleating behind us. “If we’re gonna keep talking about this, we need to eat first, so I can be sure to puke my guts out at the thought of anyone else ever touching you like I do again.”
She laughs, and I kiss her nose. Slowly, we both disentangle ourselves from each other. I stand up first, help her to her feet.
After the cookies have cooled, I watch her down three in a row, chocolate on the corner of her lip, our secrets momentarily forgotten.
She grins at me, chocolate in her teeth, too, and she says, “What?” with an embarrassed laugh.
I just shake my head, not strong enough to tell her what it is I’m really thinking: It’s gonna hurt like hell when you leave, kid.
Chapter Fourteen
I roll over and almost hit the fucking floor.
I catch myself right before I fall from the couch, and sit up quickly, running a hand through my hair and glancing around the living room, getting my bearings.
For about two seconds I wonder why the fuck I’m sleeping on the couch in my own fucking house, but then I remember.
Ella is in my bed.
Ella is in my bed and I needed to be alone.
I need to get used to missing her. Whatever we shared last night…it’s just going to make this so much worse because I won’t do to her what I did to Ria. I won’t put her in the same position Sid was, kneeling on that altar at Sanctum.
I won’t do that to her.
I stand to my feet, head to the kitchen where I’ve got the vape ready to go. I might not prepare for much in life, but I prepare for this.
I smoke so much I feel dizzy on my feet. Then I down a glass of water, take a deep breath, and head down to the basement.
The sun isn’t out yet, but I want to get this over with so I can work out, take a shower, and maybe go for a drive and think about nothing but not dying as I take curves at twice the legal limit.
Last night, Ella and I connected. And nearly a month after I met her, my heart is already aching at the thought of ending this with her.
Fuck.
Ria’s light is on, the one beside her nightstand, and it surprises me.
According to her clock, it’s just six in the morning.
I resume my usual spot, leaning against the support beam in the middle of the room, arms folded. I have no idea what I look like; I’ve got on grey sweats, a clean white tee I changed into that doesn’t have blood on it. I can’t have Ria asking questions about my back, either.
But I guess something about my appearance is unusual because Ria narrows her golden eyes on me, cocking her head, her legs crossed, swinging off the bed. “You look…” she trails off, and I tense, waiting for her to tell me just what she sees.
She doesn’t say anything. Her eyes travel the length of my body, focusing on my hair. Self-consciously, I run a hand through it.
“Spit it out.”
She smiles. “Like you’re happy. Like you…got laid last night,” she says quietly, keeping the smile on her face. But her tone tells a different story.
She’s wearing a red and white striped pajama shirt that looks beautiful against her brown skin. Her brown hair is pulled up in a loose bun on her head, and her legs are bare, red cotton shorts hitting at her upper thighs.
I feel my morning wood straining against my sweats, but I refuse to uncross my arms and adjust myself. I don’t want to draw attention to it. And for the first time in my entire fucking life, I think about how this hardon isn’t just for anyone. I won’t just fuck any girl that comes my way.
This is for Ella. And I’m fucking delusional. Goddammit.
“Yeah?” I ask Ria, not answering her unasked question.
Her hands grip the side of the bed tighter, palms flat against it, fingers curled over the edge. She looks down at her lap. “Yeah.”
“And if I did?” I press. I know I should let it go. Make a joke. Just move on. Tell her about Noctem, about what’s to come. Beg for her to tell me what to do.
She looks up, meets my gaze. “I’d say lucky you.”
The corners of my mouth lift into a smile that I try my best to fight because I am happy. Because thinking of Ella does make me feel lucky.
But Ria doesn’t look so happy about the idea of me fucking someone else. Then again, she’s also not screaming at me, so that’s good, I guess.
“Did you?” she asks, before I can think of what to say.
I rotate my neck, glancing at the exposed beams of the ceiling. Then I blow out a breath. “It doesn’t matter.”
She forces out a too-loud laugh. “Then why can’t you answer the question, Maverick?”
For a second, I think about Ella in the woods. I think about my hand against her face, I think about the rush of power, of control. The release of wanting to fuck someone up. Hurt someone that wasn’t myself. I think about how good she felt around my dick. How good it felt to take something from her.
I think about last night. In my kitchen. On the floor. Her arms around me. She didn’t pry about my brother when I asked her not to. Didn’t look at me like I was a monster. She didn’t hate me.
I blink, forcing myself back into this room, with this problem. One thing at a time, Mav. “No, Ria,” I make myself say. “Last night, I did not get laid.” I can’t stop the bitter tone of my voice, because whatever Ella and I did last night…it was the opposite of getting fucked. Or maybe it was the same, baring our souls to each other. Just for one night. It would’ve been better if I had just gotten laid, but I don’t say that.
Still, Ria just keeps staring at me. “What about the night before?”
I feel my gut clench, and immediately after it, a surge of anger. I told her I’d marry her to get her out of trouble. Told her I’d damn my entire life for her to survive. But I never offered her love. And I damn sure never offered her loyalty; I’ve never offered anyone that.
“Yes, Ria.” I cock my head. “Is that a fucking problem?”
She stands to her feet, hugs her arms around herself as she glares at me, as if she’s giving herself courage. I wince, waiting for her to scream at me.
“And you think that if we got married, if we…if we did whatever it is your cult does, that would be our life? Me, here in the basement, while you fuck
whoever you—”
“You wouldn’t be down here,” I try to interrupt, but she keeps going.
“—whoever you fucking want? And what about me? Can I bring men down here? Can I fuck them? You wanna grab brunch together in the morning, Mav, while we send them on their way? Maybe pack their lunches for the day?” She looks like she’s about to burst into tears and I don’t want to deal with that. But surprising me, her voice just grows stronger. “Who was she?” she demands. “Have you fucked her before?” She glares at me. “Do I know her?”
I feel my blood growing hot, sweat beading on the back of my neck and I want to break something. My fingers dig into my arms, hard. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Oh ho,” Ria spits, “so now you’re protecting her?” She shakes her head, winds her fingers through her hair in frustration. “She must be something, Maverick, if she’s got you so wound up like this.”
I can’t take this shit anymore. I know what I’m doing is wrong. I don’t need her to rub it in my face. I’m doing the only thing I think I can do, and she’s not making it any easier. “Do you need anything?” I ask her through gritted teeth, moving toward the stairs.
She drops her hands and takes a step toward me. “Don’t leave,” she whispers.
I take another step away from her.
She shakes her head. “No, Mav. Please don’t leave. I’m sorry, I—”
“Stop apologizing to me!” I yell at her, my hands balled into fists. “And stop begging me to stay while you’re fucking at it!”
She freezes.
“You don’t want me, Ria,” I tell her, chest heaving. “You don’t want me, and I don’t want you. I’m sorry I put you into this shit, but we both know nothing will change between us. Maybe one day,” I swallow down my emotions, clear my throat. “Maybe one day we’ll grow to love each other. Maybe one day we could be…more. But for now, you have to decide what it is you want to do. If I let you out of here, it won’t be long until they’re after you, Ria. No matter where you go.”
She just stares at me, her golden eyes full of pain.
“But if you want to…try to be with me, whatever that might look like for us…just say the word and I’ll do it. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.” I hate that I feel a pang of regret with those words. Hate that I think of Ella and how this is going to break her heart.
But Ria shakes her head, her lip trembling. She closes her eyes a second. And then when she looks back up at me, her brow creased, she answers me, just as she has for the past two months, “I don’t want to marry you, Maverick. Not now. Not ever.”
Rejection hurts, even if it’s from someone you don’t want, either. I’m willing to throw my entire future in the trash for her, and she…well, she’s smarter than me. Stronger than me, because she isn’t willing to do that.
“You want me to let you go?” I ask her softly.
“Would you?”
I don’t know. “Yes,” I lie. “If that’s what you want.”
“When will they come for me?”
“You’d probably have about four weeks.” Noctem.
She sighs. “Give me time to think about it.” Then she turns around, sits back down on her bed and buries her head in her hands.
I don’t want to bring Ella with me to Lucifer’s, but I don’t want to leave her, either. She was just waking up when I came upstairs from dealing with Ria, sitting up in my bed and yawning. She didn’t ask why I didn’t sleep with her. I stayed until she fell asleep, and maybe she thought that was enough.
Maybe she needs distance between us, too. Maybe she already knows this is doomed.
I give her a pair of white sweats, the tightest ones I’ve got, and a black hoodie. I’m wearing all black, skeleton bandana around my throat, lacing up my boots by the front door.
“Where are we going?” she asks. Something about her tone makes me feel…good. It’s like she doesn’t want me to tell her I’m taking her home. Like she wants to…stay.
She’s standing in front of the door, dwarfed in my clothes, with borrowed black socks on.
I straighten as she pushes her feet into her white sneakers.
I glance down at them. “We’re going to my friend’s house.” I don’t say Lucifer, because she might try to fight me after the other night. “Two houses down. It’s raining outside. You’ll get those dirty.”
She laughs. “Oh, Mavy. I live on a dirt fucking road, genius.”
“What did you say to me?” I step closer to her and she tries to bite back her smirk.
“I said, I live on a dirt. Fucking. Road.”
I shake my head, so close I can smell her. She smells like vanilla and the detergent I use. I always want her to smell like some part of me. “No, no. Not that. What did you call me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Mavy.”
I dart my hands out, lift her over my shoulder. She beats her fists gently against my back, laughing and screaming for me to put her down.
I slap her ass so hard she actually yelps.
“I’m gonna carry you there, and I’m gonna make sure you’ve got a bruise of my handprint on this fat ass by the time we get there.”
She wallops her fist against my back and I tense with the pain over my still-healing wounds, my hands digging into her thighs.
Immediately, she stops. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispers, dropping her hands.
I adjust her over my shoulder. “Don’t be,” I grit out. And then I carry her to my brother’s house, wondering why he text me so goddamn early and what the fuck he wants to talk about.
It doesn’t take long to find out.
He eyes Ella with interest as we walk into the living room side by side. She stiffens, but doesn’t say anything, and then his gaze shifts to me.
He’s got his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, hands behind his head, and there’re two lines of coke on the table, a goddamn bright blue coke straw beside them. Life is Good by Future and Drake is playing way too loudly for eight in the morning, and I could not disagree more. Life is definitely not fucking good right now. I know he does drugs, but not like this. At this time.
And staying while I fucked around with Ella two nights ago? I take partial responsibility, but after Sid’s visit the other night…I’m not sure I trust him anymore.
He’s shirtless, low slung black sweats on, the scars along his lower abs on full display.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell at him, gesturing to the table. Ella is quiet at my side and I already regret bringing her. I’m sure she’s no stranger to seeing drugs, not with what I saw of her mother, but this feels all wrong. Unsafe.
I have no idea where Sid is. The curtains are all thrown open, and I can’t hear shit over the music playing from his mounted speakers.
Lucifer grins at me, his pupils look nearly blown, black obscuring most of the deep blue of his eyes. “What’s it look like?” He nods toward the couch across from him. “Take a seat, bro.”
I flex my jaw, cross my arms. “It looks like you’re snorting coke at eight in the morning. Why the fuck did you want me over here?”
He ignores me completely and looks over Ella, his eyes raking over her body. I move to stand in front of her. “Don’t you have a fucking wife? Or did you forget like you almost did, again, the other night?”
His entire demeanor changes. His dark brows draw together, and he sits up straighter in the chair, bringing his hands together, elbows on his knees as he glares up at me. “You know all about fucking my wife, don’t you?”
I hear Ella’s sharp intake of breath, and I want to break my fingers against his face, but I don’t move. “What do you want? And where is she, anyway?”
He smiles, dimples flashing in his pale face. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to ask about her. About two minutes. Longer than I thought, to be honest.” He sighs, cracks his neck and glances down at the lines. “Be my guest, Mav. Don’t you wanna join me?”
“No. I’m leaving.” I make to turn aro
und and push Ella out of this room, but his next words stop me.
“Why did my wife go to your house in the middle of the night three nights ago?”
I freeze. Ella’s eyes lock with mine, and neither one of us move, my back still to Luce. “Did you ask her?” I manage to ask, still looking into Ella’s emerald green eyes. I wonder if the guards finally told him. If he questioned them. If he looked on the cameras he’s got outside of his house.
He laughs. “I’m asking you.”
Ella arches a brow, and she doesn’t say a word, doesn’t make a single sound, but it looks like she’s warning me.
“I think that’s between me and her,” I tell Lucifer.
Ella bites her lip and I want to grab her, carry her home, and fuck her right inside my house. But instead, I hold her gaze, let her keep me calm.
Lucifer is silent. Seconds tick by, Tapping Out by Issues starting up.
“I think you better start fucking talking,” Lucifer growls.
Ella lifts her hands, as if she’s going to plant them on my chest, but I tear my eyes away from her and spin around, taking a step further into the living room. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
He smirks at me, his eyes looking nearly demonic. “You heard me,” he says softly. He stands to his feet, walks around the coffee table until we’re standing nose-to-nose. “I see you’ve got your new toy here,” he says, his face in mine. I can smell alcohol on his breath. “Better keep her away from us, Maverick. Stop teasing us with her.”
My stomach churns, anger and worry warring within me.
“It’s not easy, having to share a girl with your family,” he continues, his breath against my mouth.
“Lucifer,” I say warningly, “you might want to back the fuck up.”
“Did you know Lilith is pregnant?” he continues, as if he’s taunting me. Waiting for my reaction. “Did you know she hates me for it?” He laughs. “As if it’s entirely my fault.” He blows out a breath. “She’s good at that, you know? Pinning her problems on other people. Mainly, me.” There’s something that sounds more like him in those last words. Something that sounds like my brother and not the asshole that seems to have replaced him since he married Sid.