Page 80 of Like Grim Death: Part One
I narrow my eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I feel alive with this fight. But I don’t speak. He isn’t finished, we both know that. Besides that, anything I’d say would be nasty and vile and handing him over weapons to use against me.
His breath dances on my lips, his eyes there too. He smells like mint gum, his newest obsession. “You’re not going to like the visitor downstairs.” His voice is like a purr, the sound a lion makes before he launches himself at you to rip you to shreds. “And you know what you’re going to do about it?”
I grit my teeth, feeling the flex of my muscles and tendons beneath his pressure on my jawline.
“Fucking.Nothing.”He releases me then and I stumble backward, moving away from him.
He stands, looming over me. Then he brings his palm to his mouth, and runs his tongue over his own blood, his eyes never leaving mine.
Finally, he lowers his arm, grabs mine, and steers me toward the door. “Let’s go and welcome our guest.”
I dig my heels in just before we cross the threshold. He stops, and I turn to glare up at him. “If you’ve brought a girl you’ve fucked to our house, she’s not leaving here alive.”
He blinks at me, and I know he didn’t expect me to say it. But a mess or not, I’m his fucking wife and in front of everyone else, we’re going to treat each other like we’re actually married.
His grip loosens on my arm, dark brows pulling together as he tilts his head. Then, it’s my turn to be surprised. “I would never do that to you ever again, baby girl.” He glances across the hall, where our son is sleeping. Then his demon eyes come back to mine, darkening as he stares at me.“Ever.”He keeps looking at me like he could do it forever. “Remember what I said? About protecting you?”
I nod once, surprised at his mood swing.
“Don’t fucking forget it.”
I am drowning.
* * *
Lucifer takes the man’s hand, and together they do some kind of bro hug, which blows my fucking mind because I’ve rarely even seen him do that with Maverick. Then again, I guesstheirlove is a little more intimate.
I have my arms crossed over my body, shoulders hunched as I turn to look up the stairs, where my son is sleeping peacefully in his crib. The baby monitor is clipped to my shorts, under my shirt, and I hear the soft static sound, reassuring me he’s still okay. My knife is strapped just above the hem of my shorts—I grabbed it from our bedroom on the way down—so it’s mainly hidden from view, but I wouldn’t have hesitated to use it if Ophelia walked inside this house, despite what Lucifer promised me.
It’s not her, thankfully, but I haven’t decided yet if this guest is any better. And in some strange way, he kind of resembles her. The coloring of his hair, maybe.
“Nikita, this is my wife.” Lucifer’s voice is curiously upbeat, nothing like it was when we were upstairs. I glance at his hand as he slips it into his pocket and wonder if he got any blood on Nikita.
Nikita is white with fair hair—a little damp from the storm, plastered to his forehead—and bright golden eyes. He smirks at me, arching a brow as he holds my gaze, nodding his head once. He looks to be in his twenties too, maybe a few years older than Lucifer, and he’s dressed well, in dark pants and a white dress shirt. I see tattoos snaking up from his neck, just to the underside of his jaw, and I get the feeling he’d fit right in with the Unsaints. Clearly, he already does, given he’s on Corpus Ave, and he’s standing inside my house, beside my husband right now.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,Lilith.”His voice is like silk, low and smooth. I glance at Lucifer as I tilt my head. I find it interesting he used Luce’s nickname for me, and wonder how often my husband meets this guy, and for what. When Lucifer said upstairs I wasn’t going to like who was at the door, I fully expected it to be a woman. I was prepared to grab the knife strapped to my thigh and slit her throat because Lucifer might fuck other women, but he isn’t doing it in my house with our son.
“I would never do that to you ever again, baby girl.”
Now, I’m a little lost. With his mood swings and our fight and his cutting words, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here.
Lucifer smiles, coming to stand beside me and draping his arm around my shoulder, his fingertips pressing into the skin on my upper arm, beneath the strap of my tank top.
“Really?” I counter Nikita as Lucifer hugs me to his side. I don’t drop my arms from around myself. “Because I don’t know who the fuck you are.” Or why you’re in my house with my child upstairs.You’re too close. Back off.
Nikita dips his eyes, laughing, a rich sound. Lucifer says nothing but out of the corner of my eye, I can see him smirking. His scent engulfs me. Nicotine, pine, the coldness of his body against mine, knowing his dried blood is on his palm, pressed to my arm.
Even though I might be upset with him right now, I can admit his presence soothes something inside of me while giving me fuel to be bigger, bolder, and braver in front of a stranger. And those words we spoke to each other before we came downstairs… they seem to have somehow bonded us a little more.
We’re a fucking tornado, but we both thrive in storms.
“Lucifer Malikov,” Nikita says after a moment, lifting his eyes to my husband, a gleam in his golden irises. I hear the note of familiarity in his voice, and I’m amazed I’ve never met or heard of this man in my life. “It seems like you married yourself.”
I grit my teeth, and my husband tugs me closer. This man has no fucking idea.
“She’s feisty,” Lucifer says, then he turns and presses his lips to the top of my head, between all the clips in my hair.
I’m surprised by the showy gesture, and I look up when he pulls away. Our eyes meet for only a second, but I see something pass over his gaze. Something dark, the way his brows pull together too, a frown marring his beautiful lips. Like he’s… regretting something.
