Page 78 of Pray for Scars
He groans again and bends his head, ready to pick up where he left off.
But there’s movement at his back.
We both freeze, my hands still in his hair, his still on my thighs.
We hear the music from the club, louder than before—Fall for Your Type,Jamie Foxx and Drake—then the door closes after whoever just stepped inside this room.
Slowly, Jeremiah slides me down his body, setting me on my feet. He turns around, angling himself and trying to shield me with his back.
I peer around him in the darkness. And my heart nearly stops when I see Lucifer, cigarette in his mouth, arms folded as he leans against the door, wearing a black, zip-up hoodie, and dark jeans, a skeleton bandana loose around his neck.
He inhales the lit cigarette, the cherry glowing orange in the dark.
Lazily, he brings his hand up, pinches the cigarette between his fingers, exhales a cloud of smoke inside the room. Then he nods toward us, me still half-hidden behind Jeremiah.
“Incest,” he says smoothly. “Not really into it myself but...kinky.” He winks, one midnight blue eye twinkling for a second.
Those words, so calm, make my heart fucking fly in my chest.
This is not how he reacted when he thought I’d slept with Jeremiah. What’s changed in the week we’ve been apart? Is he high? Drunk? Does it matter?
For some reason, it scares me more. His calm demeanor.
Jeremiah’s back has gone rigid and I see his hands ball into fists at his side. “Get out of here.”
Lucifer takes another drag from his cigarette, exhales smoke through his nose, his eyes pinned on Jeremiah. He shakes his head. “No.”
I step beside Jeremiah, who puts an arm out, stopping me from going any further. Because he’s always looked out for me. And he’s not going to stop now. I stay behind his arm and glare at Lucifer.
“What the fuck do you want?” I ask him, all of my fire extinguished.
Lucifer smiles at me, eyes trailing from my boots, up my bare legs, over my leather skirt and sheer shirt, until they finally meet my eyes.
“Same thing your brother wants, probably.” I feel Jeremiah’s arm flex, still flung out in front of me, all of his muscles coiled, but before he can say anything, Lucifer taps a finger to his chin, looking up at the ceiling. “Oh wait,” he croons, then his gaze finds mine again. “I already had that.” He looks to Jeremiah. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to spoil all your fun.”
Jeremiah takes a step forward, but I tug his arm back. He looks back at me, eyes narrowed. I keep a firm grip on his forearm.
I see Lucifer watching that movement, my hand clasped around Jeremiah’s arm.
“Let go of him,” Lucifer commands.
I scoff. “Fuck you.”
Lucifer pulls something from around his back that I can’t see for a second, and then he aims the gun at my brother.
“Let go of him.”
I tense, my nails digging into Jeremiah’s arm. “Lucifer,” I say softly.
Lucifer shakes his head. “You’ve got three seconds, Sid. Just three.” He smiles at me, unwavering in his aim.
I let Jeremiah go. Take a step in front of him. Jeremiah reaches for me with a snarl but Lucifer says, “Don’t touch her or you’ll have her blood all over your fucking face.”
Jeremiah’s hands fall to his sides.
Lucifer says nothing, just keeps smoking, still leaned against the door as if he’s got all night to toy with us. Fuck with us a little more.
Finally, he steps to the side, tosses the cigarette butt in a cup on the table, never lowering his weapon. His gaze meets mine, and he pulls something from his hoodie’s pocket.
