Page 22 of Like Grim Death: Part One
I was bleeding for you. Help me. I need you now more than never.
But the second ticks by and I remember my promises. More than that, I remember the consequences.
I close my eyes in the night and relax against his embrace. He’s safety scarred in ink, my refuge drenched in darkness. I can’t give him the truth, but I still find solace here with him and all my secrets.
“I was just running.” It’s only half a lie, isn’t it? I force down my confessions, the things I really want to speak. Instead, I give him another truth. “I’m really glad you’re back.” My voice breaks on those words and I feel heat warm my cheeks. Gratitude fills my lungs as a curl of wind caresses cooler air over my face.
His chin rests on the top of my head and as he holds me, only our own muscle and bone separating our entwined hearts, I wonder what secrets he could be keeping too.
“Me too, kid,” he whispers, and I don’t mind the nickname. Not tonight when I just want to stand forever in his embrace. “I fucking hate being away from you. It’s kind of embarrassing.” His boyish laugh fills me with so much joy, it almost eclipses the physical pain I’m in. He dips his chin and kisses the crown of my head. “Why are you out so late?” His voice takes on a different, darker edge.
In my mind, the cemetery flashes, bits of pale gray and forked black trees in the night. My muscles tense and fire catches along my wounds. I know I need to ice them to lessen the chances of bruises and I have to suck down ibuprofen, but I can’t duck out of Maverick’s arms so easily. Or avoid his question.
He squeezes me tight, triceps flexing against my sides. “Answer me, baby,” he whispers over my ear. He’s not mad yet.
“I couldn’t sleep.” This isn’t a lie. “Not with you gone. And I didn’t do any cardio this morning so—”
He pulls my earlobe between his teeth and a whimper leaves my mouth. “Why’re you working out so much, huh?” He kisses just beneath my ear as I tilt my chin, arching my neck. I can see the darkened peaks of our home against the night sky. A house fit for a vampire and I’m the immortal bride.
Except we’re not married. Except I haven’t been changed yet.But I’m working on it.
He scrapes his canine tooth over my neck, shifting one hand up to knead my breast over my shirt. I feel his erection growing hard at my back and my stomach drops.
It’s not that I don’t want him. It’s that I don’t think I could survive sex with him tonight without blacking out, considering the state of my thighs, and a little higher up, along my low back. Briefly, I worry about my kidneys. Ever since Lucifer dragged me into this, I’ve been covertly reading about what’s happening to me. What’s safe and not safe.
When I kneel at the little church in Emily Cemetery, I’m not safe at all.
He slips his hand down my shirt, his strong fingers pulling at my tight nipple. He’s always so casual about his ownership of me. This isn’t even foreplay; it’s just a regular Monday night. “I don’t want you going out after dark. We have a fucking gym.”
I let my eyes flutter closed, feeling the tendons flex in his arm as he pinches my nipple, his other hand splayed flat over my belly. “I know, I just wanted the fresh air and—”
He grabs my breast hard, sucking the skin on my neck and silencing me. “Let me rephrase it for you.” He runs his bottom lip where he bit me, soothing the sting as his hand splays over my heart. I wonder if he can feel the fear inside the beats. I wonder if he knows it isn’t fear of him.“Don’t go out after dark.”
The urge to cry grows stronger. To collapse and give in. Confess and be done with this, consequences be damned.
But one truth usually leads to another and another until they all topple like dominoes. And I think of Atlas and can’t betray that. Not yet.
So all I say, as he grabs my chin and turns my head to face him over my shoulder, his baby blue eyes intent on mine, is, “Okay.”
I stand at the end of our bed, watching her sleep. She’s on her back, elbows bent and arms bracketing her pale face. The softest sliver of moonlight streams in through the drapes over our windows, illuminating the heavy spray of freckles along her skin. Her chest rises and falls softly beneath one of my shirts, her red lips are parted as she breathes. Her wild, wavy hair is splayed over the black pillowcase, and in the darkened night, the coloring is like crimson.
The taste of marijuana is thick on my tongue and my head is free—for now—of everything that went down tonight.
Everything except watching Ella look over her shoulder before she unlocked the gate to our property, her pale fingers curled through the iron bar like she was clinging onto it for dear life.
I take a step closer to our king-sized bed, careful my feet don’t creak against the hardwood.
Then I reach out a hand, resting it atop her foot over the smoky gray covers, clenching my fingers gently around her toes.
She stirs, her breaths hiccupping as she turns her head, and I worry I’ve woken her. My dick is hard, and I didn’t get to fuck her tonight, but she clearly needs sleep. After she questioned me about Sanctum and I gave her nothing, she pretended to be annoyed with me and went upstairs to get in the shower. But there was something else in her eyes. Nothing to do with my evasive answers on the unexpected meeting tonight. Some kind of lie she’s keeping in her brain. With Ella, you never know what she could be warping inside her mind. But I know she would never be disloyal to me, so I can wait for her to spit it all out when she’s ready.
After a few seconds, her breath turns even again, her pale throat exposed with her head shifted toward the windows of our room.
I squeeze her softly and decide to brush my teeth and slip into bed with her, the clouds of THC lulling me to sleepiness.
But just as I let go of her foot, something lights up on her nightstand.
A knot forms in my throat as I realize it’s her phone, set on a wireless charger atop the dusky blue dresser.
