Page 79 of Like Grim Death: Part One
“Who is it?” I ask, thinking it could be Mayhem, except he knows the code and he wouldn’t ring the doorbell because he actually thinks of Rain.
“Come.Here.”
I fist my hand over the monitor, then the other in the hem of my shirt, glancing down at my bare legs. I have a light dusting of hair on them because I haven’t shaved in… I don’t even know how long now. The days all feel the same, dragging along at a snail’s pace, except I get nothing done and I don’t even know what day of the week it is now.Saturday?
I know Halloween is coming in a few weeks, and I don’t know what’ll happen this year. Lover’s Death? Will my husband hunt down another girl? Maybe someone untouched, maybe a freshman at Alexandria U, maybe…Ophelia.
“I don’t want to ask you again.”
“You didn’t ask the first time.” My thoughts flicker to whoever is at the door, and how Lucifer knows they’ll wait. Then again… he’s Lucifer Malikov. Everyone seems to wait on him.
Everyone except me and J.
Do. Not. Think about him.
“Can’t you ever just do whatI fucking say,foronce,Lilith?”
I only stare at him, hearing the frustration in his words.
“I mean, you don’t do anything else. You don’t cook. You don’t clean. You don’t like to do anything at all except sit in silence and read your fucking books and stare at the walls and—”
I’m moving before I realize it, cutting off his words as I come closer to him. The hardwoods are cold against my soles, and it’s the only thing I’m thinking about as I close the space between us. Icy, blind anger grips me, and I set down the monitor on his desk then yank the knife from his hand, the leather handle soft against my palm. I throw it across the room and hear it hit the bookshelves before it thuds to the floor. I’m nearly between his thighs, but even with him perched on the end of his desk, I have to look up at him.
I see a slow smile pull on his lips.
I grab his hand, the one with the self-inflicted injury, and I press my thumb into the warm spot of his blood.
His face betrays nothing. He’s staring at me with detached indifference, save for that fucking smile on his face.
“Fuck you.” I spit the words, and he doesn’t so much as blink. Cold blue eyes, long, dark lashes, pale, high cheekbones. I’m overcome with the sudden image of him fucking Ophelia. Ella. Anyone who isn’t me. The way he groans low in his throat when he comes. How he likes everything rough. Hands around their throats, maybe he streaked them with blood too—
“Fuck. You.You’re pissed off because you can’t snort shit up your nose. You’re mad because you’re in the dark about your stupid fucking cult. You’re taking it all out on me because you’re a little boy in a man’s body.Fuck. You.”I can’t stop saying it, and I dig my thumbnail into his cut. Still, he betrays nothing but detached amusement.
“A little boy?” He scoffs. “A little boy wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with you, Sid.”
I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you. The blood in your fucking veins did this to me. Your family fucked me up. They have fuckingdestroyedme.
I amnothing,because of them. You.
You, you,you. My mind is a tornado of violent thoughts unbidden, they well up inside my brain.
“Youdon’t know what to do with me. You hate protecting me?” I snarl the words. “You want to treat me like Lazar did Lamia?” His mom’s name, he told me only once and I’ve never spoken it aloud until now. I see his eyes flash. “Go for it. I don’t give afuckwhat you do. I never did.Youwere the one constantly chasingme.”I step closer, and his knees are on either side of me. “You think I donothing?Then let us fuckinggo.”
Finally,finally,I see a glimmer of some emotion in his demonic eyes.
I don’t know what it is. Hurt, maybe? But I don’t know why I think he’s capable of the feeling, because a second later, he’s jerking his hand out of my grip then he curls his fingers around my throat, pulling me toward him, his blood hot on my skin.
He doesn’t touch me with his other hand, but he squeezes his thighs around me, keeping me still. I inhale, sharp pants, my hands fisted at my sides because I refuse to touch him at all.
His grip is just under my jawbone, and he tilts my head up, eyes boring into mine.
I catch his scent. Nicotine and pine.I hate it. Sometimes, I hate you too.
“There are so many lines I’ve let you cross.” He speaks softly, his voice full of that throaty rasp I still love. His eyes search mine, like he’s looking for something, and I know he’ll never fucking find what he wants inside of me. “So many traditions I’ve let you fucking crush.”
My heart beats hard inside my chest.Fuck you and fuck your traditions.
“The amount of disrespect you’ve shown me is fucking obscene, and I’ve let you get away with it, over and over again. Maybe I have acted like alittle boy.”He smiles and it is fucking wicked. He jerks me closer, fingers closing tighter around my throat, his blood all over my skin. “Not anymore,baby girl.”
