by Elena Monroe
Standing up to her full height in her heels and grabbing her designer bag, she gave me a small smile before heading for the door when I shouted after her, “How did dad vote?”
It was worth knowing if he was on the same side as us.
Pulling the door open she stood there, head over her shoulder still smiling. “The way I told him to, of course.”
I had allies even if I didn’t see them.
BOWEN
I woke up the next morning to an empty bed with my face buried in my pillow. Normally Eve found a way to keep me on my back while she pushed up against my side, tracing butterflies on my chest until she fell asleep.
Sitting up, I scrubbed my face and tossed the covers back. Pulling a shirt over my head and finding discarded jeans on the floor, I got dressed before leaving the room to search for her. I didn’t bother shouting her name; she’s always been hard to miss. All of her screams don’t you want to get into trouble with me and you do.
I must have looked all over for her before I saw her outside in a small satin slip, standing in front of a canvas with a clear glass full of Henny. The brown liquid she had been consuming exclusively for the past two days was recognizable by now.
She would look beautiful if I knew she wasn’t trying to destroy herself.
Crossing my arms, I watched her paint abstract blue strokes onto the canvas. She loved painting when we were kids and was always covered in paint stains to match her latest masterpiece. It was good to know they didn’t break every part of her in Denmark.
Not turning around, she spoke, “I can feel you there… Maybe the Henny senses you.” She made an ohhh sound like a ghost and snorted right after, making it clear she was already quite buzzed. It was going to be fun to convince Eve to attend a wake for people she hated in an hour.
This early in the morning and already flirting with intoxication—that was enough to make me rethink my own habits.
If only they were mine, I can’t decide what choices my demon’s make.
“We have to get going, Eve. Wake is today, remember?” I was waiting for the pushback when she dropped her paintbrush like I completely tainted her creativity.
I could feel the anger emanating off of her already as the contents of the glass slid down her open mouth, and her eyes got darker in challenge. “I’m actually busy today.” She pushed past me, heading quickly inside and up the stairs with her drink between her fingers.
I twisted around, following her. “Doing what? Drinking yourself into napping? It’s not optional, Eve. You are going even if I have to drag your ass there.” I wasn’t in the mood to banter with her before she learned my way is the only way.
Polishing off the glass and setting it down on the dresser, she thought she was winning. “Actually, yes, if you need to know. I can wish her an awful trip to hell from bed. You can’t tell me what to do, Bowen, you’re not my mom… she’s dead.”
Eve had an answer for everything, and I knew that well from our childhood. It was half the reason we got in trouble and half the reason we never got in trouble. She is a smartass with a dangerous mouth and has me wrapped around her little finger believing the trouble wouldn’t be all that bad if I just give in.
Throwing herself onto the bed, she landed on her stomach with her ass hanging out of her slip, seemingly ignoring me. I braced my weight into my palm against the cold sheets, my body hovering over hers as my hand crept into her dark locks and gently pulled her head back demanding she listen to me.
I watched her cross her ankles and keep scrolling on her phone with her body on display like it would soften the blow of being told what to do if I was a victim of the madness too. She was playing dirty, but this Eve didn’t realize I only got better at her games that I used to survive.
Her face filled with attitude twisted towards me when I pulled a little harder on her locks and ripped the phone from her hands. “She’s dead, I’m not. You’re going to the goddamn wake so get dressed.”
“Tell me what to do again and see what happens, Bowen. Seriously, do it and see what happens,” her voice was smooth and playful. Whatever was going to happen was part of her game, and I was curious to see what her mind cooked up while this buzzed.
I had her pinned against the bed as she pushed herself into my crotch desperately. Leaning down, my hand released her hair, moving around to her throat instead as I whispered, “Don’t pretend you don’t like me telling you what to do.”
I made sure my hand around her throat was loose enough when I stood back up. Straightening my elbow, I let my other palm land against her ass in a sharp, dense slap, dragging a raspy moan from her parted lips.
Her hands pulled up her slip immediately, revealing her entire perky ass to me, barely covered by white lace panties while her hips lifted off the bed like she was asking for more. My hand grasped her thigh as I watched her skin turn pink. The feeling of liking it was making my dick hard on command.
My demons responded to pain and apparently hers did too.
Giving her another serving of my hand, I watched her writher against the sheets like I was touching her pussy instead. I couldn’t take my eyes off her when she rolled over, producing her panties from under her slip. She twirled them around her finger in the air like a white flag, surrendering. “Okay, okay, you win...”
I wanted to just give into her right then and there. I debated telling her Elias was moving to LA to push her into telling me the truth, but it wasn’t the right time. Reluctantly peeling myself from her, I watched her bite her finger around a smile.
I walked away, the way I had to before I fell into the trap. “I’ll fuck you when you start telling the truth, Eve, get dressed.”
It was getting hard, trust me, to keep up the calm exterior when everything inside me raged to be between her legs again. Those perfectly slender legs that begged to be bitten, grabbed, pushed open to leave her permanently on display.
Everything ached; felt starved enough to throw me into some hallucination just to act like a placebo.
Eve sat up with her slip still pushed up to her hips, scoffing at me leaving her high and dry. Pushing my hand down into my jeans, I looked at my phone for the time debating if I had enough time to relieve myself when it was clear I didn’t.
Tossing her a sweater from the drawer, it hit her face lightly as I walked over to the bed, letting my hands smooth up her legs before throwing her over my shoulder. She didn’t try to escape, simply hung there like it was her rightful spot—the angel on my shoulder to balance all the demons on the other side.
Carrying her downstairs was easy; she weighed nothing, which also meant a pit stop for food to soak up the alcohol in her system was necessary. We were about to be in an environment with every watchful eye on us making sure our ‘arranged’ marriage was going smoothly. She had to recover from her buzz and do it quickly.
Grabbing my keys and a black bomber, I didn’t let her go. I didn’t plan to let her walk her own ass to the car, she’d run back inside, lock the door and put a chair in front of it just to get her way. She’s scrappy and resourceful like that.
Yanking the car door open, I dropped her down onto the seat carefully, minding her head, making sure the sweater landed in her lap for safe keeping. She was still in just a slip with nothing under it and had no fucking shoes on, while I was wearing nothing much more appropriate for this occasion.
We were already going to be sized up, and now there was a bullseye on our backs.
“Can you try to act like you care, please?” I pushed the seatbelt in like she was completely incapable. Closing the door and slipping inside myself, she was still huffing at the idea of going. “I’m not a good liar, sorry.”
“But you’re good at keeping secrets… so keep the fact that you’re happy they’re dead a secret.”
Her hand landed on my thigh while I pulled out of the driveway, and when I glanced over at her I found her lips curling up into a small smile when she whispered, “Thank you for making me go.”
Somehow
in all the loss happening, things felt stable. I felt more stable than I had ever felt. My legs were always traumatized with intoxication and wobbly at best, but with her I felt stronger than the need to be in constant haze.
In-N-Out used to be Eve’s favorite place before she fled LA and now it seemed like food was the least of her priorities. I couldn’t judge much; I was still on a liquid diet.
Rolling down the window, I ordered what she used to order times two because Eve had a way of expecting you to be tortured right along with her. Her eyes lit up to a teal blue realizing I remembered her order, and this was about as peaceful as I was going to get her to be today.
Pulling away from the window, I knew I had to lay down the law. “The Clave will be at the wake for your mom. Everyone. Entire families. It’s a big deal.” She twisted in her seat, trying to face me as much as possible, listening to me carefully as I continued. “We’re being monitored, Eve. You can do whatever you want as long as it looks like nothing is wrong between us.”
She squinted at me as I passed the food over. “What’s wrong with us?”
She knew exactly what was wrong with us, and it takes more than my two hands to count through it all. “We both have demons, Eve. Bury them today.”
Holding up a handful of fries close to my mouth, I rolled my eyes when she popped an eyebrow. “Bury those demons, Bowey.”
Surprise covered her face when I engulfed her fingers too, letting the sodium and salt melt against my tongue. She wasn’t going to let me die, and I wasn't going to just let her survive. This was
our impasse, our hands touching, our bodies passing each other, and we both had to hold on because there are too many demons trying to keep us apart.
BOWEN
How does the Clave manage to make a wake feel ritualistic?
The room was vast and filled with Clave members outnumbering any family Eve’s mother has in LA. They’d rather uphold the image than let her be the lonely soul in the room with a casket, so they filled it.
They reserve that kind of torture for the horsemen.
Scanning the room, I found all the exits, separating Clave from her crazy aunt Kathy. A familiar warmth hugged my heart seeing her standing there in a simple black dress with eyes as dry as Eve’s.
Aunt Kathy was the only relief in her life, and she didn’t threaten a good thing when it came to Eve staying in my room. She was practically a saint in my eyes.
Looking to my right, I felt our hands bump into each other before I locked my fingers with hers. My eyes trailed over her slip, sweater, and my boots that I had fished out of the trunk in desperation that were clearly too big for her.
She was a disaster.
My disaster.
My mom wasted no time fleeing the dull conversation she was in to wrap her arms around Eve. I could see her whispering something into the embrace, and I wondered what it was with my face scrunched up.
It certainly wasn’t a condolence, not after hearing my mom go toe-to-toe with her now dead mom. Everyone was pointing a finger in my direction, but no one even considered. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for the people she loves. Even if that meant giving up the life she’d gotten used to.
I felt Eve’s delicate fingers squeeze mine with my mom’s arm still around her. It made me ultra-aware of how much I was protecting her from the snakes in the room—being the strength she always was for me when we were younger.
Eve grew up around the Clave, but proximity is a bitch.
Dragging me out of the fog of my thoughts, my mom’s hand squeezed my arm. “Bowen? Introductions are in order after the sermon,” her voice was flat, and I knew we were both dreading this.
Turning to face Eve, still hand in hand, I spoke in a low tone, just to her, “Please button the sweater. Not everyone needs to be tempted by you the same way I am.
“I know everyone’s dads. It’s really not a big deal, Bowen.” Still being difficult, she pushed the button into a hole with one hand, compliant even though her words rebelled.
“It’s not just our dads, Eve, not anymore. There are a lot of people in this room who bought into the Clave.” I basically had to drag her to the front where she was expected to stand while everyone lined up to personally tell her how sorry they were for the loss.
Fucking cheap.
If they knew her mom the way we did, they probably would have offered to make this a reality a lot sooner. If someone had offered, I would have said yes solely based on our childhood.
“The more people buy in, the worse your attitude gets?” I watched her eyebrow pop with a smirk on her lips waiting to spread into a grimace.
Scowling her direction, I didn’t respond when she stepped closer into me and expertly let her sass melt into crocodile tears.
I filed that away to bring up later—the ability to shift expertly between emotions. I could see the tears welling up over those baby blue eyes, turning a deeper blue by the second.
Color me impressed.
“Missed you at the Grove this year, Bowen. It’s always such a pleasure when you’re there.” My eyes snapped up to the figure at my side, clutching onto my arm and whispering like the heat of his seduction would grant him a one-on-one at my wife’s mother’s wake.
“I wish I had another taste before you got married…” His hand trailed down my spine and stopped right before my ass like it was the sweet spot that was just off limits until I felt his fingers dig right in.
Eve wasn’t going to be the one to misbehave the way I feared…
Squeezing Eve’s hand, I swallowed down the rage lodged in my throat at the bad memories that were a lot closer than normal. A one-off of being passed around to the religious fucks that didn’t give one fuck. He was the one that got away because his death could be traced back to me too easily.
He was just an understudy for the guy who raped me more times than I can count. Actually, I could, it was the same amount that I stabbed him.
Forty-seven.
He was another problem priest, in dress robes, touching me in a way that I knew meant something besides sorry for your loss.
Leaning into Eve, I ripped my arm from his grasp, letting my lips press against hers long enough to have her following mine when I pulled away. She tasted like sugar and a splash of spiked iced tea.
Suddenly I was thirsty.
My hand on her hip kept her in place when I whispered, “I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.”
I wasn’t like Grimm, Vic, or Khaos. I had decorum and realized the levity of how this wasn’t the place or time—at a fucking wake.
I was prepared to kill another priest who presumed he could have his way with me, yet I was still focused on my lips buzzing with Eve even as I put distance between us.
Finding Vic in the room, my fists clenched, and I turned around too quickly for him to escape.
If I had my way, I would kill every priest—no one deserves to feel so above darkness they hide behind a cross.
My hand found his throat and pushed him backwards until his back hit the pulpit, digging into his spine and singeing his wings. “Such a pleasure? They teach you that in priesthood? Is that the code phrase everyone agrees to before you take their innocence?”
Everything about those words, always such a pleasure, rubbed against my memories until the bad ones dislodged and I found myself confronted with the same shit I already buried. Those words could trigger an eruption of feelings, ones I was hell-bent on not feeling.
I heard Eve’s trembling voice shout above my anger, “Bowey! Please!”
If anything was going to bring me back it was going to be her, that voice that begged for me to not only survive but prosper.
My hands shook as I was squeezing his neck so hard, I could see his pale skin turning a light shade of red under my strength. It was as addicting as the feeling of being numb that I chased with alcohol. I felt more powerful than my demons when things got violent. I felt powerful enough in the moment to strangle them into silence. Only in those moments
did that kind of invincibility last.
Seeing his life and the will to fight back draining from his face, her voice snuffed out my motivation by saying my damn name again. “Bowey, stop. You don’t have to do this.” Her hand touched my arm where my muscles felt like steel. Suddenly, I didn’t feel invincible but dangerous enough to hurt her without meaning to.
Loosening my grip around his throat, I let him go, dropping him to land on the floor. I looked at him, waiting for the cough I knew was coming next. All the strength draining out of me in the opposite way life was flooding back in for him.
Eve clung to me, arms wrapped around me, slowly pushing me backwards until he had enough breathing room to decide to stop acting like I hurt him.
Her fingers grasped onto my face, dragging my eyes to hers instead of the body heaving for air on the floor in front of us. “Bowey, what was that? What’s wrong?”
Confusion dripped from her features, no trace of fear, just thirst for answers.
Vic’s voice was booming with authority; he was daring people to disrespect him when he announced the refreshments were in the next room. The room was silent and still when Vic announced for everyone to hustle above all the shock. He didn’t need to know the disgusting details to have my back right now. He was either for you or against you.
The room emptied quickly as the priest coughed up a lung that I may have broken, and Khaos somehow appeared next to him like a savior for the damned. Helping him upright, he handed him all he had which was a bottle of water.
All that was left in the room was the horsemen, their catalysts, and the projection of trauma I inflicted upon the “holy” man.
Pushing her hands away, the same ones clutching onto my shirt so tightly they were wrinkling it, I dropped down to the pew to fish out a joint I had handy for the drive home. I knew one of us would need it. “I don’t like priests.” I turned my face away from her so she could detect anything in my eyes.