Page 33 of Pray for Scars
Cain doesn’t waste time.
“Around,” I finally answer Natalie, letting my eyes drift over to her, away from Mayhem’s gaze. I try not to think about where Lucifer is.
At the far end of the winding pool—it’s got a lazy river that circles the entire pool room, with tinted windows that don’t reveal much of the vast, manicured lawn beyond—something splashes and then a girl starts giggling, and a boy barks a laugh.
I don’t know who these people are. Maybe the same ones from the party in Raven Park. Those that are allowed to get close enough to the Unsaints to get an invitation.
Natalie arches a brow. She’s hanging onto Atlas’s arm, and Atlas is smiling at nothing, gazing at the clear blue water.
“Need to borrow a swimsuit?” she asks me, nodding toward the water. “Wanna get in with me?”
I shake my head, open my mouth to politely decline. I’m content watching for now.
But then I see him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lucifer walk in through the sliding glass doors that separate the pool room from the gym, and he’s not alone.
He’s got his shirt off, his lean, ripped torso on full display, that fucking V at his hips visible over his low-slung black swimming trunks. His short curly hair is messy, ruffled.
And I think I know why.
Because his arm is linked in another girl’s, a girl I recognize. A girl he grew up with, who I thought he wasjust friendswith.
But Ophelia’s long blonde ponytail sways as she turns her head back, after calling out something to someone in the gym. She leans her head on Lucifer’s shoulder, and she’s wearing a red swimsuit, a one piece that plunges nearly to her belly button, high slits cut into the sides, showing off her curves.
And Lucifer’s eyes lock on mine as everyone turns his way, the laughing and chattering going quiet for a second.
Everyone’s eyes but Mayhem’s, because he’s still watching me as a girl trails a finger down his chest, leaning in to whisper something into his ear.
But I can’t look away from Lucifer.
Atlas leans in toward me. “They’re just friends,” he says softly, his breath against my ear. “Friends that…” He trails off.
I don’t need him to finish the sentence.
He pulls back and I lock eyes with Natalie, who is looking back and forth from me and Lucifer.
“Yeah, Nat, if you’ve got a bikini I could borrow, that’d be great.”
Atlas groans, shaking his head.
I see Lucifer sink down into a chair beside Mayhem, and Ophelia sits on his lap, taking a joint from one of the girls crowded around them.
“Sid,” Atlas says softly, “don’t fuck with him.”
I laugh, my eyes finding Atlas’s dark ones as Natalie stands to her feet, a smile on her cherubic face.
I get to my feet, too, still holding Atlas’s gaze. “He shouldn’t have fucked first.”
Natalie throwsthree different bikinis she pulled from a walk-in closet at me while we stand in someone’s bedroom, simply furnished with a bed, armoire, and adjoining bathroom.
The overhead light and fan are on, and I hold out each swimsuit Natalie dug out for me. One is hot pink—no, another nothing more than a string bottom—no, and the last is black mesh, top and bottom.
No.
“Wear that one,” she says, nodding toward the mesh swimsuit I’m just about to fling on the bed beside us.
I glance down at it again, sighing. “This was a dumb idea.” I glance around the room. “Where the fuck are we, anyway?”
