Page 74 of Pray for Scars
I glance in the floor-length mirror on the wall of my room.
“Damn,” Brooklin says softly behind me. She’s sitting on my bed, looking at my body in the mirror. “You look fine as hell.”
To be honest…she’s right.
The mini skirt accentuates the slight curve of my waist, tugging at my hips, and the long-sleeved, tight black shirt shows off my small breasts, and yeah, you can see my nipples, but damn, we’re going to a club. Why not?
With the combat boots on, I’ve got the perfect edge, too.
I turn around to smile at her. “Thanks,” I say, meaning it. “I appreciate it.”
She winks, shrugs out of her coat. “Here,” she says, hopping off the bed and handing the coat to me. “Wear this ‘til we get there.”
When I frown at her, holding the coat in my arms, she winks. “So your brother doesn’t flip the fuck out.”
Of course, he still flips the fuck out.
When I get inside the club, OMNIA, and I hand off Brooklin’s coat to coat check, he grabs my arm, yanks me close to his side. Brooklin is already rolling her eyes, but she’s heading to a circular booth with Nicolas, and I feel a pang of annoyance because this was her fault.
But no.
It’s not.
It’s my brother’s fault. Because he’s a fucking psycho.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he growls at me, just like he did when he found me in the hotel I was supposed to be meeting Michael at. Michael, who’s probably fucking dead.
I whirl on Jeremiah as we stand against the wall in the dim lights of the club. There are women wearing far less than I am, and besides that, even if I showed up here butt-ass naked, he doesn’t own me.
But he thinks he does.
“Stop,” I snarl at him, poking him in the chest. “Just fucking stop, okay? Let me have this one fucking night to enjoy myself without you breathing down my neck.”
His grip on my arm loosens and he blinks. I shrug out of his hand completely and flip my hair over one shoulder, glancing behind me as I do, looking for the restrooms. I had three drinks before we left, and now I have to pee.
Badly.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to gorelieve myself. Is that okay, big bro?”
He shakes his head, sighing heavily. “Whatever, Sid. Knock yourself out.”
And I do.
Not in the restroom, but when Brooklin eyes me after we’re sipping on our who-knows-what-number drink, andThe Buzzby Hermitude starts playing, and she asks, “Wanna dance with your sister-in-law?” and Jeremiah looks like he might be sick, and I feel like I might be, too, thinking about my brother ever being married, I nod, take her hand, and we hit the dance floor.
And Jeremiah doesn’t bother trying to stop us.
But I feel his eyes on us, and I blame the alcohol for the fact that I fucking like it. That I like when Brooklin pushes her ass against me, and I wrap my arms around her waist, and she leans her head back on my shoulder. That I like when sweat starts to form on my back, and when I catch a few guys eyeing us, I smile at them in an invitation. And soon, we’re both dancing with boys we don’t know, boys I’ve never seen before. Boys that aren’t my demon brother or my own personal devil with deep blue eyes.
I drop down low, roll my body up next to Brooklin, who has a man’s hands on her hips behind her.
“Is Jeremiah gonna like that?” I whisper-yell to her, a smirk on my face.
She throws her head back and laughs. “He loves when I fuck around.” She winks at me. “I like when he does, too.”
I’m not really sure how to feel about that, not to mention it shocks the shit out of me, so I close my eyes, grinding against a guy who smells damn good and whose hands are on my bare thighs.
It feels good, being around a man whodoesn’twant to kill me at the slightest misstep. Around someone who just doesn’t care.
