Page 42 of Drag You Down
She can survive the entire rest of her life without him.
I brush back some of his sweat-slicked curls. “You deserve to be taken care of, boy. Especially right now.”
“She always takes care of me,” he protests. His voice is weak, lost, and he sounds so fragile that my urge to destroy the person who made him this way burns hotter and brighter.
“Don’t argue with me, boy. I’m not giving you a choice,” I say firmly, and to my surprise, Levi’s face turns bright red.
Interesting.
“One day, then you stop stalking me,” he says. He’s trying for firm, too, but coming from him, it’s a lot less convincing. “I have a life. You can’t just… do this.”
I almost tell him that I absolutely can — that I just did.
“One day,” I say, merely to reassure him. I have no intention of giving up on him.
I get out of the car and walk around the other side to open the door for Levi. He hesitates before taking the hand I offer him.
I pull him up—and against my chest, wrapping my arm around him.
“You’re safe with me,” I promise him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
He lets out a broken laugh. “Safe, with the Devil.”
I smile. “Nobody would dare harm you with the Devil protecting you.”
Levi shivers.
I’ll be the Devil if it chases the shadows away from his eyes.
CHAPTER 10
LEVI
Ishould fight this. I should run.
Instead, I let Gabriel half carry me into his luxury condo building, where every person we pass looks like they’re making “more money than God.”
What a saying.
The condo itself is richly furnished, every decor item carefully fitted to match the next. The open kitchen has beautiful, bright granite countertops. The appliances are all stainless steel, not the old grungy beige ones that Eve and I have.
There’s a large TV suspended on the living room wall, and three doors I can see that lead to other rooms. This is so much wealth for one person. So much opulence.
I reach up to clutch the beautiful crucifix necklace.
“Home sweet home,” Gabriel says as he shuts the door behind us. “I’ll give you a tour later, but I think a hot bath would do you good, first.”
A hot bath sounds sinfully good. My apartment doesn’t have a proper bathtub. I have distant memories of being bathed in one, but those were so long ago that I barely remember anything beyond splashing and playing with bubbles.
Stupid.
“I don’t have clothes to change into,” I tell him. I’m still feeling hazy, distant, like this is happening to someone else. I go to continue, but before I can, a tabby cat makes a beeline to us, bumping its head hard against my calf.
“I have clothes for you,” Gabriel says. He smiles down at the cat. “That’s Ichabod. He loves people, and he loves baths.”
I freeze. Gabriel has clothes for me? Why? How does he even know my size?
And the cat… loves baths?
