Page 32 of Pray for Scars
A lazy smile curves up the corners of my mouth. “Depends on what you mean bywell.”
He rolls his eyes, pushes to his feet, taking his beer bottle with him. “Dead, Luce. That’s what the fuck I mean. She’ll bedead.”He turns to walk away, his slow steps creaking on the porch.
I sigh through my nose, blowing smoke out through my nostrils as I do.“Memento mori,”I say so quietly, I don’t think he’s heard me.
Remember, you will die.
But his steps pause.
He blows out a breath. “What’re the rules?” he asks me.
I tense, drop the butt of the cigarette in the ash tray at my side. I don’t look at him. “What rules?”
He huffs a laugh. “About her. Tonight. What’re the rules?”
I clasp my hands together, elbows on my knees as I glance up at the darkening sky. “Since when do we have rules?”
He takes another step toward the door and snorts. “Since you almost killed Mav with a lamp for touching her.”
My jaw clenches. “She can do what she wants.”
“And you?” I hear him slide the glass door that leads onto the back porch open, but he waits for my answer.
I brush my thumb over my lip. “I’ll move when she moves.”
He chuckles. “Don’t test her, because she’ll beat you, Luce. She’s not like your usual girls.”
I glance over my shoulder, arching a brow. “I don’tusuallyhave girls.” Not for longer than a night.
He winks at me. “Exactly.”
Chapter Nine
Liber.Freein Latin, I’ve gathered from Atlas, who seems chattier than usual. He’s definitely the most laid back of the Unsaints, but there’s a smile that seems permanently fixed on his handsome face tonight, and I wonder if it has something to do with his arm slung around Natalie, the same Bohemian girl from the party two weeks ago who gave me a pill right before I let Mayhem fuck me.
Her big brown eyes went wide when she saw me walk into the mansion in the middle of nowhere, not much different than the cathedral that way.
A compound with armed guards at the gates who nodded their heads in deference to Lucifer when he rolled through with his M5, me in the passenger seat, the other boys in their respective rides. Save for Ezra, who was already drunk and still drinking as he rode in Atlas’s Range.
There’s a heated indoor pool here, and it’s where I’m sitting with Atlas and Natalie now, our legs dangling in the warm water. I’m wearing shorts that Lucifer threw at me when we got here, leading me to a bathroom bigger than most people’s living rooms, decked out in black and gold.
He stood outside the door while I changed.
“No swimsuit?” I’d asked him when I opened the door and his eyes trailed up and down my body, his arms crossed. He wore black jeans, a dark hoodie, black skeleton bandana around his neck.
“Nah.”
Then he turned around and left.
And I haven’t seen him since.
“Where’ve you been?” Natalie asks me, cocking her head so she can see me beside Atlas, who’s sitting in between us. She kicks her long, tan legs in the water, and I seeshe’swearing a gold bikini, her dark hair braided down her back.
Most of the people here are in proper swim attire. And there’s a few dozen, all mingling in small groups. Girls are hanging off of Mayhem’s every word as he sits in a pool chair opposite us, his head cocked, arms folded over his inked chest, watching me with those baby blue eyes. He’s got on black swimming trunks, and so does Atlas, beside me, his triceps flexing as he has his palms on the ledge of the pool, leaned back on his arms. I haven’t seen his Unsaint’s tattoo, and I wonder where it is.
Blame Gameby Kanye West is playing from speakers that must be mounted on the wall, and no one has bothered to tell me what exactly this place is. Just another playground for the rich pricks, I guess.
Last time I saw Ezra—before Lucifer guided me into the bathroom—he was downing shots from small black cups. Last time I saw Cain, he was pushing a girl into a bedroom and he slammed the door without a word to anyone.
