Page 43 of Savage Hate
“Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” Jude asks as he walks up to me and begins wiping down the front desk.
“Because Lola just got me in to see a condo in her complex tomorrow morning.” I grin as I look up at him–at all of them. “If it goes well, I won’t have to live upstairs anymore.”
I expect him to smile, but instead he just clenches his jaw and looks back at Silas and Damon. Before I can ask about their strange reactions, my phone dings again, and Lola offers to pick me up in the morning. I quickly respond, and by the time I look up again, Jude is nowhere to be found.
“You’re going to need furniture,” Silas says, his voice gritting out roughly.
I purse my lips to the side and lean back. “It’s too bad I didn’t bring my things from Manhattan. I was in such a rush to leave…” I trail off.
Damon leans against one of the mirrors. “You still have stuff at that prick’s house?”
I nod. “I only brought the basics. No furniture, since that was all the designer’s style, not mine. But I do have some things there. I always envisioned going back, but honestly… the thought of running into Wright terrifies me.”
Damon and Silas share a look, and I frown. “What?” They look at me and then pretend to busy themselves with the antibacterial wipes. “Don’t play dumb. Jude acted weird, too. What is it?”
Silas sighs. “We should go back and get your shit.”
I bite my lower lip and cross my arms. “I still have a key.”
Damon smirks. “We should go tonight.”
I huff a laugh. “It’s two in the morning,” I whine. “Manhattan is over four hours away.” I know, because I took a filthy bus from Manhattan to Boston, and a taxi to Greythorn. “I’m also exhausted.”
Jude wanders into the studio from the bathroom, drying his hands on a paper towel.
“What did I miss?” he asks, looking between the three of us.
“I think we’re going to New York tonight,” Silas responds, his eyes finding mine. Theyburnthrough me, pinning me to the spot.
I shake my head. “No. We can find another night, but–”
“There is no other night, Lennon,” Damon says matter-of-factly. “We’re here almost every night, and on our night off, we usually have our thing at the house.”
It’s then that I realize they need that night, need the art, and the way they can bleed creativity. I can hear the desperation in Damon’s voice–the longing. I look at all three of them.
They’re artists who will starve without an outlet.
“Okay,” I concede. “But I’m not driving.”
Jude grabs his jacket and grins. “I never sleep, so I’ll drive us.”
I stand up and grab my purse. “Which one of you has a car?” I ask, realizing later how stupid the question is. They all just laugh, and I’m left with burning cheeks. I stifle a yawn as I use the restroom quickly.
Pulling an all-nighter is something I haven’t done since college. I never went out with Wright, and if we did, we left early. He insisted it was because he had to be up early for work, but he always had an excuse–even on weekends. I’m starting to realize he was the antithesis to fun. I finish up in the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water and patting it dry before exiting the bathroom.
When I walk into the studio, all three guys are waiting for me by the front door.
“Wouldn’t you all rather be sleeping?” I tease.
“We don’t sleep, princess,” Silas answers, holding the door open for me. I ignore the way his arm brushes mine, and the way my whole body explodes with tingles as his hand finds my lower back. We walk to a white SUV, and I stop in front of it.
“Whose car is this?” I ask, glancing at the tinted windows warily.
“Mine,” Jude answers.
“Shotgun,” Silas calls, jogging to the passenger side.
I shoot him an evil stare, and then I glance up at Damon, who looks about ready to devour me whole.
