Page 137 of Like Grim Death: Part One
I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing I have nothing to offer her on this and I just ask, “Why did you call to tell me this? You haven’t been my biggest fucking fan lately.”
“I don’t understand your feelings for Ella,” she starts with, and I want to break something, but I don’t say a word as she continues. “But even she doesn’t deserve what happened to me.”
I pullthe pan from the oven, the wave of heat rolling unpleasantly over my face. I nudge the door shut with my knee then set the pan on the stove. I pull off the black and blue checkered oven mitt, tossing it on the counter.
I press my fingers to my temple, bowing my head as I take a moment to breathe in the darkness of the kitchen. Mav is mad at me, upstairs in his office. He got yelled at by Lucifer for firing a gun in the house, and he wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say about Sevryn. I think about Sid asking me questions, then fucking judging me. I imagine Lucifer avoiding my gaze the past few days, but hear his rasp of a voice in my head.
Then there’s Atlas’s stupid warning, which I didn’t heed because he didn’t say a word to me either out on the deck. No one is on my side, and I thought, in rejected desperation, maybe Sevryn could be.
Everything bubbles and boils inside of me and I feel suddenly weak. Not just my body, but my mind. Like everything has gotten too far out of my control and I don’t know who to believe or trust or—
“What the fuck were you doing with him?” Maverick’s voice from the shadows makes me jump.
I spin around, backing into the counter, darting my eyes to the archway that separates the kitchen from the dining room.
His gaze is intent on mine, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans against the wall.
My heart leaps to my throat and I swipe a few strands of hair behind my ears that came free from my braids. Then I fist my hands in my oversized white shirt, the one I changed into when we got back earlier today.
Night has fallen now. I guess it makes sense Maverick is reappearing in the dark.
“So now you wanna talk to me?” I manage to make my words sound cold.
He doesn’t smile, but he does glance at the chocolate chip cookies behind me. Even my own mouth waters, smelling the sweet aroma in the air.
“Who said I didn’t want to talk before?” Slowly, he shifts his gaze back to me.
“I tried to tell you it wasn’t what it looked like.”Not exactly, anyway.
“Then what was it?” he asks quietly.
I think of the church floor last week. My body convulsing against the hardwoods. Crying out inside my head to a God who clearly does not exist. I push it all aside and speak. “He…he has scars, marks on his body. Bruises too.” I swallow down a lump in my throat, and I feel a crawling sensation over the back of my neck. “I was just asking if…” I trail off, my bravery leaving me. This is too close to my own duties.
I sense him dip his chin.
“Look at me,”he whispers.
Slowly, I obey, dragging my gaze back to his.
“You were just asking ifwhat?”His voice is so low as my heart jumps high inside my throat.
“I was just asking what happened to him,” I finish, and I know it sounds like a lie even if it is some twisted version of the truth.
“And did he tell you?” He tilts his head, watching me.
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “You shot at us, which kind of ended the conversation.” I speak it matter-of-factly.
A smile quirks unwillingly across his lips. “I didn’t shoot at you,” he corrects me, all the same. “My aim is always perfect.”
“You wanted to scare me.”
“I wanted to scarehim.”
“Why?”
“Because Ella…Youaremygirl.”
I lick my lips. “Is that why you wanted to fuck me in front of Atlas too?” My skin burns as I speak, but I don’t care. “To show everyone I’m yours?”
