Page 8 of The Price of Mercy
He senses my stare and softens his posture, loosening his grip on his arms and relaxing his face. Taking a breath, he finally meets my eyes, and that’s where I see the version of Sam that I know: in the emerald depths of his eyes, overflowing with concern. “Are you okay, Mercy?”
I’d forgotten about the wine, so I grab the bottle by its neck and barely contain a bitter laugh. No, I’m not okay. What a stupid question. I take a swig of wine, then another, and another, chugging as much as I can without spitting it back up. I’m not much of a drinker no matter the type of alcohol, so with enough wine, I’ll pass out. Maybe that’s better than living through shit like this.
It wasn’t eventhat bad, considering the outcome, and I’m still miserable.
Sam frowns and tries to take the bottle from me. I hold fast, matching his frown with one of my own. “I deserve a drink after what I went through tonight.”
“I’m not arguing against that,” he murmurs, “but take it easy.”
“Pahh.” I tip back another swallow. Taking it easy is what got me into this mess. All of it. Kane’s wicked game, the mess at the party, my situationship with Sam. My whole life has been spentalone, sheltered,safe.When I go out into the world, I’m not prepared for its twists and turns, and that’s what spells disaster. I’m learning as I go and suffering the consequences.
What a fucking mess I’ve made of my life.
Kane stares at the bottle for a split second before glancing around the room. “Where’d you get that from?”
I gesture towards the door that opens into the back hallway. “First room on the right. We’ve got a wine cooler next to the fridge.”
Muttering the wordsweet, Kane disappears to ransack what little food and drink we have stashed for long nights like these. The cremation will take a few hours, and I don’t like the idea of leaving the machine to cook on its own, so I grab a folding chair and drag it across the room. I can’t watch the flames through the door, but I can pretend that I’m watching the fucker inside burn to ashes. Lifting my bottle, I murmur a sarcasticcheersand take another sip.
After I sit my ass down and stretch out my legs, Kane reappears with two bottles in his hands and one tucked into the crook of his arm. He sets all three on the floor beside me, then recruits Sam to bring in the couch from the other room. I watch from afar as they work together to angle the couch just right to avoid knocking the legs on the doorframe, Sam cursing aloud as he smashes his knuckles, while Kane laughs at his pain.
I can’t help but crack a smile.
They both notice, the two of them zoning in on it immediately. Kane slides the couch the rest of the way across the floor and quickly steps up behind me. “I see that smile, Siren.” He flashes a grin and grabs me from behind, reaching beneath my arms to drag me backwards out of the chair. It clatters to the floor as he hauls me against his chest, blindly plopping down on the couch and settling me into his lap. Snapping his fingers, he points at the bottles of wine. “Grab those for me, will ya, Sam?”
Frozen in place, Sam stares at the two of us. His gaze roves my face before dipping to my body, taking in the possessive way Kane’s arms wrap around my middle as he leans back comfortably, pulling me with him. I’ve never sat in a man’s lap before—unless straddling Kane in the cemetery that one time counts—and I can’t say it’s particularly comfortable. I shift in place, trying to get situated, when something hard suddenly digs into my ass.
“Kane!” I smack his hip while he grins against my neck, the scrape of his teeth matching the chuckle rumbling past his lips.
“Can’t help it when you squirm like that, beautiful.”
Grabbing a bottle of wine, Sam’s mouth twists into a grimace as he sets it beside me and claims the one I left open on the floor. He picks up the metal folding chair one-handed and sits backwards, facing us as he untwists the cap of his wine. His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he takes a swallow. I can’t see the fire blazing in the oven behind him, but I can see one raging in his eyes. Flashing bright green as he licks his lips and takes another sip. “You shouldn’t touch her,” he murmurs moodily, frowning.
Kane hums in the back of his throat. “You’re right. I shouldn’t.” That doesn’t stop his hand from roaming my waist, his knuckles teasing the underside of my breasts. “But she likes it when I touch her. Right, Siren? You said so.” His lips brush the shell of my ear. “And I’ll never forget it.”
Grabbing the bottle resting against my thigh, I crack the top and bring it to my lips, taking as many gulps as I can before the air rushes from my lungs and I gasp for air, nearly choking. I get a head rush, the edges of my vision going fuzzy as I catch my breath.
“Jesus, Mercy. Take it easy.” Sam’s brows pinch together and he takes a much slower, controlled sip from his bottle. I watch as a cut in his lip pulls, threatening to split open, and stare at theblackened ring around his eye. Swollen. Undoubtedly painful. Possibly my fault or, if you ask Kane, Sam’s own fault.
“What happened to you?” I ask Sam, nudging Kane until he takes the bottle from me. He drinks just as greedily as me while we wait for Sam to answer my question.
Sam’s jaw clenches and his gaze turns steely. “The fraternity thought I needed saving.” He tips his head towards me. “From you.”
“Me?” My chest aches as an old wound festers inside my heart. I shouldn’t be surprised that people think the worst of me—like I’ve performed some kind of love spell to get Sam to like me enough to invite me to a party—but the assumption still hurts.
“Everyone was so friendly…” Shaking my head, I cut myself off, knowing that appearances can be deceiving. It doesn’t matter how nice someone seems on the surface; they can be hiding ugly intentions behind practiced smiles. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” I turn my face away to keep Sam from seeing how much this un-shocking revelation hurts.
Theonetime I step out of my comfort zone—meeting new people, trying to be social, having a good time—everything blows up in my face. Maybe it’s like I told Sam before: I’m meant to be alone.
My chest caves in, and my next breath hurts. I wince. Both men notice, Kane’s arms wrapping tighter around me while Sam quickly falls to his knees at my feet. Grabbing both of my hands, he peers up at me with such love in his eyes that it becomes impossible to breathe. I barely hear his voice over the sound of my own heartbeat. “Don’t waste a second thinking about it, Mercy. I promise, you are not any of those negative things running through your head right now.” He squeezes my fingers gently. “I will always choose you, no matter who or what we’re up against. You are my number one priority.”
Guilt tugs at my heart as I stare at the man who’s always tried his best to give me what I want. Back rubs. A sleeping partner. Distance, even, when I ask for it. Aside from my siblings, I spent my childhood alone. When Sam appeared in my life and decided to stay, I never knew how to navigate our friendship. To this day, I doubt I fully comprehend the extent of his sacrifices to remain by my side—and knowing this, I’ve likely been taking him for granted.
I’ve been a shitty friend and, quite possibly, a terrible girlfriend, if we put a label on it. Not quite friends yet almost lovers. More than what we used to be, but not enough for either of us to be satisfied.
I don’t know how to put this feeling into words. A disgusting cocktail of regret, guilt, shame, and embarrassment make my stomach churn. The bruises on Sam’s face darken into shadows before my eyes, and I see them for what they are: a physical manifestation of both his feelings for me and others’ wicked refusal of it. He shouldn’t have to suffer on my behalf.
I bite my lip and pull my hand from his to run my fingertips over the swollen flesh above his eye. Gently, I graze every inch of bruised flesh on his face, and he allows it, clenching his teeth against the pain but never asking me to stop.
