Page 83 of The Price of Mercy
Adrenaline pulses through my veins as my heart clenches tightly. “Are you going to kill her?”
Kane’s face lights up as we hear another peal of Mercy’s laughter echoing down the hallway. “Even if I snuck that past you, I’d regret it the moment my knife hits her heart.”
I nod. A rush of relief makes my knees weak. That’s one less problem to deal with. “You won’t change your mind?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. You don’t have to worry about Zane, either. He’s smitten as fuck, just stubborn about it.” With a warm smile, Kane bumps my shoulder with his. “Welcome back, Sam.”
I take a deep, calming breath and feel myself relax for the first time in weeks.
It’s good to be home.
Chapter 32
Mercy
My grandmother won’t let goof Malachi’s arm. As soon as we stepped into the sitting room, she took my place by his side and hasn’t let go. Once they sat at the round table in the corner of the room, he was done for, unable to get up without invoking her immediate sorrow at his parting. But the two of them have always been close; he used to help my grandfather tend to the grounds before he passed, and he and Grandma speak to each other in hushed tones, like they always do.
It’s a special dynamic that I’ve never had with either of them, but it’s okay. Now, I have three other men to confide in.
Zane walks in a steady loop around the room, ensuring that we don’t stay in one place or conversation for long. What few times I catch up with my older sister and the dashing gentleman on her arm or speak with some of our longest-standing clients, I’m able to relax and go with the flow. I keep hoping that Zane will take the hint and do the same, but there’s a wrinkle of tension written across his face that I can’t riddle out.
“You don’t have to be so tense,” I tell him after our third rotation through the building. “No one’s going to bite if you say hello and introduce yourself.” I’ve had a hard time figuring outhow to introduce him to others, switching between calling him my friend and my roommate, although neither are exactly true.
“And you don’t have to be perfect,” Zane replies smoothly, “but it’s fun to watch you try.”
I purse my lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You keep filtering yourself when you talk to people. Just tell them how it is. If you’re sad or bored or lonely or overwhelmed—be honest, and people will either understand, or they won’t. You don’t need to put on a fake smile.”
“These are my family’s clients,” I protest, pulling him to a stop near the door to the morgue.
Zane raises an eyebrow. “Your dad calls them family.”
I wave away the semantics. “It’s a blurred line.”
He taps my forehead with a teasing smile. “Then unblur it, Mercy.”
Grabbing his hand, I frown. “But I don’t know what to say.”
He laces our fingers together and leans close. “You can tell them that we’re lovers.” Chuckling in my ear, he presses a gentle kiss to my neck. “I’m sure they’ll be happy for you.”
I clear my throat as someone walks by and studiously ignores me and Zane. “No one actually says that out loud.”
“I just did.” His throat clicks on a swallow. “How does it feel?”
My emotions are too hard to grasp. I can’t possibly sift through them. “I don’t know. I can’t think with—” His lips find my pulse point. “—you doing that.” I dig my fingertips into the back of his hand. “Zane, my family’s here. Stop it.”
“They’ll get over it.”
“It’s not appropriate!”
He pulls away from me and licks his lips salaciously. “Seeing you happy isn’t appropriate?”
“Seeing us makeout isn’t appropriate,” I hiss.
A silver spark ignites in his eyes. “I want to kiss you, Mercy.” He grabs my waist and hauls me against his chest. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”
“That—that’s not going to work,” I stammer, feeling my face warm. How often does someone call me beautiful?
