Page 197 of Like Grim Death: Part One
“I want to kill both of them, and I want to fuck you in their blood, you get that?”
I clench my teeth together to stop from smiling. But he grabs my face, turning my head so I’m looking up at him.
His blue eyes are livid on mine. “We’re getting out of the fucking pool.” He’s gripping my mouth so hard, my lips press together.
“I like it in here,” I say, my words slurred from the way he’s holding me, and maybe the alcohol in my system too.
Ezra laughs, and Lucifer lifts his gaze to his. “You keep laughing, I’llkillyour fucking mom, all right?”
Ezra stops laughing.
Lucifer dips his eyes to mine.“Now.”Then he releases my face, grabs my wrist, and starts dragging me toward the stairs on the shallow end. I glance at Maverick, smiling a little, but he’s not. He shakes his head once, as if he’s warning me, which kind of pisses me off.
But I go with Lucifer, the two of us cutting through the water. People part for us, staring, laughing behind their fingers. One girl is obnoxiously loud as she giggles and points at us, and Lucifer stops when his fingers close along the metal railing that bisects the steps of the pool.
He twists his head, turning to stare at her. I don’t even know why she’s here, if we’rehiding,but I guess the Unsaints do like their distractions.
Her laughter dies off, and it seems like silence echoes around the pool room. I can’t even hear the music as I look from Lucifer, to the girl with dark brown hair piled into a bun, and back again.
“You can get the fuck out of my house.” He looks up, and I see a guy with a gun on his hip, dressed all in black—a guard—nod once, and walk to the edge of the pool.
“Shit.”One of the girl’s friends whispers the word, but I don’t see what happens next because Lucifer is picking me up, one hand under my knee, the other around my shoulders as he cradles me to his bare chest, water slicing down both of us.
I wrap my arms around his neck, indifferent to people looking at us as I stare up at him.
He glances at me, and I know he fights it, but there’s the smallest smirk on his pretty mouth. He shakes his head once, his eyes flicking upward, toward the gym. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, Lilith.”
“Is Rain okay?” I ask the question because my phone is still at the pool.
Lucifer leans against the couch in the small lounge-like room he took us to, cigarette between his lips, his blue eyes on mine. I’ve got his hoodie on, only my bikini on my lower half as I sit across from him, but on the floor, a low table between us.
I reach for the shot he poured me. There’re bottles of liquor and mixers on the table, and the lighting is purple here. It dances over Lucifer’s cheekbones, and he looks so hot, I have to cross my legs and squeeze my thighs together so I don’t jump over the table to get to him.
He pulls the cigarette from his lips, tipping his chin up and exhaling through his nose. I rake my gaze over the column of his throat, the blue vein there beneath his skeleton bandana.
My fingers curl tighter around the shot and I take it, no longer feeling the burn. I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth as I set the glass down.
“Yeah, he’s good, baby.” Lucifer tips his chin to stare at me once more, and it almost feels like the first night we met all over again, except I don’t want to die tonight. Tingles run through me even as my head spins from the alcohol.
I reach for the half-empty bottle of vodka, but Lucifer shakes his head, then pushes a sealed water bottle toward me.
I grasp it between my fingers and the cool plastic feels good against my skin. I lean back on the couch behind me, Lucifer’s hoodie pulled down below my ass so the marble floor is a little cushioned beneath me.
I crack the seal on the water bottle and tip it up to my lips.
“You think I’ll ever be any good at this?” he whispers as I drink, the plastic crinkling beneath my fingers.
Frowning, I lower the bottle to my lap, pressing it against the hoodie so it doesn’t touch my skin. “At what, baby?”
I hear the door creak open, music thudding from the pool room, and when I glance over, I watch Maverick walk in, pushing his head through his white hoodie as he pulls it on, his hair wet. He’s still in his swim trunks. Black, with a single blue skull on one thigh.
“Being a dad.” Lucifer’s words catch my attention as Mav smirks at me and the door closes behind him, the sounds of the party muted with it.
Maverick comes closer, and my eyes find my husband’s.
“You’re a really good dad,” I whisper, and I mean it, even as I sway a little as Maverick comes to take a seat beside me, earning a glare from my husband.
Mav bends his knees, nudging me with his shoulder. The scent of him—chlorine from the pool, leather, marijuana—it’s comforting as I turn to look at him, smiling a little.
