Page 16 of The Sweetest Lies
Poor Avian doesn’t deserve that.
Roman, yeah, maybe a little.
And Zilo, definitely.
He comes closer and closer until his chest bumps my arms, and he’s a mere few inches from my face.
“You being there will just make tension worse.” His quieted words are hot against my lips as his head dips low, and he gazes into my eyes so deeply, it suddenly doesn’t feel like we’re arguing at all.
It feels like... a different sort of tingling passion.
I just need him to know that I want to protect my sister. I want to be there for her. For all of them.
“I can’t just—”
“You being there will make tension worse,” he repeats, and his whispered words drop to an impossibly soft, gravelly tone. “And it’ll distract me so much that I’d be useless to protect you. We all would.”
The heat that blooms through my chest melts every single part of my little black heart—I swear it.
My mouth opens but then closes again as I try to process his words as well as my own tumbling emotions. By the time my logic is done kicking the stunned stupidity out of the way to find some real words left in my brain, he’s already slipped away, disappearing into the crowd of hellish people.
“Sometimes he remembers he has feelings.” Roman smirks my way. “Scares the hell outta all of us. Don’t be afraid.” He pulls at my arm until I follow him and Avian away from the others.
I peer back only once.
To Nyra.
But she’s applauding, looking up at her queen with stars in her eyes—stars in her eyes and a tainted black void of friends surrounding her.
* * *
The silence that was heavy in the bedroom finally is smashed through like the room itself is collapsing. It’s not though. I’m used to the growling snores of three enormous hellhounds by now. The roars of their slumbered peace are obnoxious, annoying things.
“Goddess Moon, leave some air for me occasionally,” I hiss at the three sleeping men who for the most part are puppy-piled atop each other. Just slightly. An arm draped here. A leg touching there. A head nuzzled sweetly against a hard, round ass.
You know, normal guy stuff.
I smirk at them in the candlelight as I stand over the cute fur fuckers.
I wish... life was easier here. If they’d rescued me away without the messiness that looms over this realm, would I have fallen happily into place among these three secretly sweet men who protect me more than I protect myself?
If things were different, would I have just fallen in love and lived happily ever after?
The thing is, happily ever after doesn’t exist in Hell.
I know that firsthand.
Without a sound, I tiptoe to the door, hold it tightly in my hands as I pull it open, and slip out into the silent hall. The rays of dawn bleed across the floors, but it’s still dim and muted. Still hours before the staff begins stirring awake and cleaning up the castle for another chaotic day of What-the-Fuck-Will-Creatchin-Do-Next.
It’s odd to walk alone with only the occasional guard being spotted in corners here and there. It’s like his beautiful kingdom is a ghost town of what it once was. And really, maybe it is. Maybe once, centuries ago, before Ravar and before Creatchin, before either of them stained the crown of this realm, maybe it was peaceful. Maybe it was flourishing.
And maybe there was purpose aside from power hungry hate that I see in every aspect of this place.
None of that really lingers in my mind when I come to the door in the middle of the hall I know is hers. The new, glossy wood has hearts engraved in swooping designs. They’re not really hearts. Just swirls, but they nearly touch in a point here and there, and because this is Nyra’s room, hearts are all that my mind sees when I look at the carved loops and swoops.
My hand lifts, and the quietest knock that ever resounded against a surface can barely be heard.
The pounding of my heart is louder.
