Page 167 of Boy of Ruin
He’d wrapped his arms around me and kissed a trail down my neck. Spoon fed me and forced me to tell him fruity was best before he gave me another bite.
A small smile plays on my lips and I know he sees it when he asks, “What are you thinking about?” leaving his first unanswered question behind.
I clench my fingers tighter around the strap of my bag. “Nothing,” I lie.
He looks sad with that answer, the corners of his mouth pulling down. I’m so used to him looking angry or sexy that this look feels new, just like it did at Liber, and it hurts.
He never wanted me to see his grief before.
I never really wanted him to see mine, either. We both ran from that. It’s so much easier to be angry. You can pretend nothing hurts that way.
Fuck the world, and everything in it. Don’t bother mentioning while you’re holding up that middle finger that the world is eating you alive.
He glances at my bag, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows. “Did you bring bug spray? It’s a place in the woods—”
“I don’t want to go into a forest with you,” I tell him, and it’s not really a joke, but it feels like that. I think about when he knocked me to the ground in the forest that first night we met. Took that gun from me. The one that was supposed to end this all.
His eyes flash, and he steps closer to me. I stumble back until I’m against the wall, and his cold blue eyes are livid. Just like that, he’s reached for the anger. His hand comes over my mouth.
“You don’t have a fucking choice, Lilith. Because I can’t keep an eye on you without you always running, and I won’t give them a reason to come for you again. Always trying to save your fucking life, baby girl, and I’m not about to stop now.” He glances down at my belly. “I’m not going to let them hurt my wife, or my fucking child.”
I grab his wrist to pull his hand from my mouth. He lets me, threading his fingers through mine, but his eyes are still narrowed, his full lips pressed into a line as he glares down at me.
“We can forget this,” I tell him, my words quiet. “Don’t take me in there. I don’t want to be a part of this. I don’t want anything to do with the 6 and their bullshit, Lucifer.” My voice is still low, but it’s only truth I’m speaking. Can I take him without all of that shit? Can he separate himself from the cult?
He grips my hand tighter, his blue eyes gleaming from the sun streaming in through the curtains at our back.
I know I shouldn’t say it, but I do it anyway. Because his anger feeds mine. His hatred makes mine swell. And I do it because I don’t know where J is, and I think about what he said Lucifer did.
Heard his screams. Saw him in that crate.
And he did nothing.
“At least Jeremiah had a plan. At least he was going to fucking kill them. You’re just going to let them bide their time. Let them get their hands on—”
He slams his fist beside my head, and I flinch. “If I knew where Maddox was, he’d be dead, baby girl.” His tone is soft, but his words are venomous. He brings a hand to my face, brushes his thumb over my lips. “But he’s gone. When I find him though, he won’t last long.” He wraps his arm around my back, fingers still grazing my lips as he pulls me flush against him.
For a moment, I shove aside all the shit that’s happened the past few days. For a moment, I just let us be what we are. Married. Together. Close to having a fucking family.
My own hands come to his back, holding him to me because I know he means what he’s saying. I know he’d kill for me. He already has.
But hearing Jeremiah in that cage...his screams. Lucifer’s laugh...
Maybe it could be different. Maybe they could work their shit out.
“He’s your brother, you know that, baby? Whether you hate him or love him, he’s still your—”
“And my dad was still my dad, and you saw exactly what the fuck I did to him.”
He releases me all at once and turns away, stalking through our room to the door. “Mav is waiting for your ass,” he mutters, “since you can’t seem to stand being in the same fucking room as me.”
“Lilith, get in here, baby girl!”
I drop my empty journal, the pen still in my mouth as I hear the rest of them laughing, then Ella snapping at my husband to, “Leave her alone.”
Maverick cracks up, his boyish laugh easily distinguishable from the group of them. “She’s gotta be in here. It’s almost midnight.”
The fourth of May giving way to the fifth.
