Page 107 of Pray for Scars
She clenches her fist tighter and she has the nerve to smile at me, as if this is one big fucking joke. She has no idea the significance of this. If she keeps acting like a little shit though, well, we’re all fucked.
“Stop fighting me,” I say through clenched teeth.
She loses the smile. “Save him,” she pleads with me.
“Do you trust me at all?”
“Of course I don’t, you fuck!” She’s coming alive again.
“Good answer.” But all this talking has loosened her fist and I splay her fingers wide and angle the knife. I glance at her. “Sid, do you want this?”
Her lips part.
We don’t have much time.
“Lilith,”I try again, her eyes locked on mine, the knife hovering over her palm. “Are you mine?”
She’s breathing hard and she bites her lip. If she doesn’t stop doing that shit, I’m going to fuck her here and now. But then, miraculously, she nods. And I no longer have to fight to keep her hand open.
I swallow down a lump in my throat, force myself to look away from those beautiful grey eyes, and I carve the blade into her skin, over top of the mark Jeremiah tried, unsuccessfully, to inflict.
She hisses, and then I hear an engine revving, gravel beneath tires. I don’t turn around because I don’t give a damn who it is, I’m going to finish this shit.
The 6 call itCoagula. To join.
But then I hear the car stop, a door slam shut, and gravel crunching beneath someone’s feet.
“What do you need me to do?” Maverick asks beside me, his voice quiet.
“Hold her hand.” I nod to indicate the one I’m not trying to get the final line of theXin and Mav reaches out, threading his fingers through Sid’s.
She instantly stills beneath my hips at his touch, and I feel the need to claim her. To remind her that she’smine.
But I shove that thought aside. I can deal with my dick later.
I manage to finish carving up her hand and then I toss the knife aside. I hold her palm up to my lips, looking at her as I do.
Her gaze has shifted from herrealbrother, to me, and she goes utterly still beneath me.
Slowly, keeping my eyes on hers, I trace the patterns of the mark with my tongue, savoring the irony tang of her blood. It reminds me of that night one year ago when she walked into my life and fucked me up worse than I was fucked before.
I know she still might hate me after this, but I can’t find it in me to care. I’d rather she not be able to stand the sight of me than to be dead. I’d rather her hatred than her indifference.
When my mouth and tongue are coated in her blood, I press her palm against my shirt, firmly, stopping the flow of blood. Maverick lets go of her other hand.
I look down at Sid, her hand still against my chest.
I give her a small smile.
“We’re as good as married now,” I tell her, watching the anger slide back into her eyes.
But she sits up, pulls her hand from me. And it isn’t me she’s looking at.
It’s Maverick.
Her brother.
I get off of her, reluctantly.
