Page 25 of The Diávolos: Part Two
Evan walks to the side of the room where a table stands. He removes the cloth that lies on top, revealing a collection of knives, perfectly laid out. My anxiety level skyrockets.
He grabs a knife and approaches Gianis. The tip points to his neck, but my best friend doesn’t even flinch. “Does this remind you of something,poutánas yos? Having the blade so close toyour throat, I can already taste your blood.” They stare at each other, neither of them moving a muscle.
An image flashes through my mind of Aria’s engagement party when I saw the two men facing each other on the veranda, Gianis holding a knife against Evan’s neck.
“What happened that night?” I ask in a hushed tone, embarrassed to be butting in this almost intimate moment.
They both turn to look at me, Evan smirking, Gianis’s lip curling in a sneer.
“Your dear friend decided to reproach me for our relationship,” Evan answers, scoffing. “But the only thing we found out that night is that we both don’t deserve you.”
Gianis finally breaks his silence. “You still don’t.”
“Says the man who got friendzoned.”
Gianis releases a low, guttural sound from his throat. “Let me fucking go so I can kill you.”
“We’ve been through this before,Gianaki, you’re not going to touch a hair on my body,” Evan responds in a provoking tone.
With the knife still at his neck, Gianis leans into it, and it pokes through his skin. A small bead of crimson trickles down his throat and Evan does the last thing I expect: helicksthe blood off of Gianis’s skin.What the hell is going on?
I’m shocked, but the image of the man I reluctantly still love doing something so intimate to my childhood crush is almost a turn on. The line between anger and arousal is getting more and more blurred.
“Get the fuck off me, Evander,” Gianis hisses.
But Evan only laughs and shrugs. “I can’t help it. The sight of blood gets me in the mood.”
“Just fucking kill me already.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
I can’t take the bickering anymore. “For the love of god. Am I interrupting something here?”
They both whip their heads toward me, as if suddenly remembering my presence, and respond in unison, “No.”
“Gianis is trying to buy time, but we’re not wasting another moment. Come here, Angelica,” Evan orders.
“What for?”
He walks back to the table full of knives and grabs another one, putting it in his back pocket, then picks up a rag and throws it to me. “Clean him up.”
I catch it before it falls and walk toward my best friend, my head low. When I reach him, it takes everything in me not to touch him, hug him. I want to make sure he’s okay, but I know Gianis won’t take my act of kindness as what it is right now. He’ll think I pity him, which is the last thing I want him to feel. His pride is being shot down by his rival, and I have to let him be strong for himself.
Instead, I simply bring the cloth to his neck and dab the blood away. Thankfully, the puncture isn’t deep, so the wound isn’t gushing.
When I’m done, I put the stained towel back on the table and stand a few feet away.
Without notice, something flies across my face, and I stumble backward, letting out a gasp. A knife smashes into the wall behind Gianis, having just missed his head. My hands tremble so badly, making it impossible to focus on what’s happening.
“Evan!Ti sto diáolo?”What the hell?“You’re crazy!” I shout, terrified.
“That’s nothing new, sweetheart. Every time Gianis fails to answer a question, I’ll throw a dagger. If you’d like to convince him to save himself, be my guest.”
“Gianis, please just give himsomething!”
“No,” he replies, his jaw set.
“FUCK!” I yell as another knife flies past me.
