Page 48 of Lethal Truths

“What’s that look for?” I ask him, failing to keep my smile from blooming across my face.

He stalks up to me, grabs my chin between his fingers, and then whispers against my lips, “Seeing you hold that knife just gave me so many fun ideas.”

“Such as?” I murmur back, wrapping my arms around his neck.

The grin he offers before sealing his lips to mine is knee-weakening. After a demanding but quick kiss, he pulls back and says, “We’re scarred, baby. Inside and out. Not by choice, but from other people’s actions and neglect.” He holds my gaze as he brings his hands up to cup my face, tenderly sweeping his thumbs across my cheeks. “I want you to carve your name into my skin, give me one more scar, but this one I’ll wear proudly because I chose it. I choose you, through this fucked up life and into the next.”

“You w-want me to—“

“I do. Desperately. Just as soon as we’ve put a few miles between us and this school, so keep that knife close, Ember,” he says, cutting me off with his honeyed words. He takes a moment to look into my eyes and then adds, “Unless you’re not comfortable with that.”

I take a breath, thinking about it. With the weight of the knife in my purse, and the implications of forever from Creed’s words, something clicks in my chest. Like a warm hug, a promise of happy days, or something else equally soothing. And I need that so fucking badly right now. I lean in and steal another kiss, murmuring, “I’ll do it. But only if you promise me one thing.”

“Anything, baby. Just name it.”

“I want your name on me, too. Give me something to admire among all the other vicious marks on my skin,” I breathe.

Creed’s eyes light up and a moment later, he’s devouring my lips, heart, and soul with a searing kiss.

I’ll take that as a yes.

We’ve been driving for ten hours.

At first, the panic from being in a car was almost overbearing, and I was seconds away from demanding Asher pull over and let me out. We had only driven a block, maybe two, but memories of the car crash that almost killed me kept barreling into me harder with each second. I would have preferred to walk to safety than endure that. Then Creed took one look at me and knew I wasn’t alright.

He’d cupped my face and said, very bluntly, “I know this fucking sucks, and I’m sorry you have to face this right now, but there’s a saying about choosing your battles. Well, I’m telling you to choose this one, to choose me and your life and the safety we can have on the other side of all of this. I’m telling you to hold my hand and ride in this car because if you don’t, if you can’t, then the likelihood of your death is too strong. If you get out, I get out. I’ll run on foot with you, if that’s what you need. But I promise they’ll find us, and I promise it’ll be the worst, most drawn out torture you can imagine before they finally kill us.”

Griffin glared at Creed from the front seat. And yeah, it was kind of harsh, but ultimately, Creed somehow knew exactly what I needed to hear. With his hand in mine, his grip firm and comforting, I was able to breathe through my panic and push those traumatic memories away. And that’s how we’ve sat for the duration of our trip, with our hands clasped and Creed silently holding me together.

We’ve only stopped once, so Asher could get gas and we could all stretch our legs and use the restroom. The sky is dark and dreary, and the roads and scenery have all started to blur in my mind. Shifting on my seat, I wince at my stiff lower-half and say, “I could really use another pit stop. My knees might never work right again if I don’t stand and walk around for a bit.”

Creed looks over at me, taking my hand and lacing our fingers together, but it’s Asher who replies. “Yeah, my eyes aren’t happy with me, either,” he mutters. “Griffin, can you look up the closet motel? I think we’re far enough away to breathe a little easier and we could all use some sleep. It’ll be another long day on the road tomorrow.”

Griffin pulls out a cell phone — one Asher had given him before we left, claiming it was untraceable — and starts his search. The rest of our phones are turned off, batteries and sim cards removed, and sitting in a plastic bag in the trunk. I voted for tossing them in the garbage on our way out, but Asher said we’d be fine.

“Where are we heading?” Creed asks as he strokes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Or are we just going to drive until we can’t anymore?”

I catch Asher’s grim expression in the rearview mirror. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet, but I’m open to ideas.”

No one offers anything. I don’t know if we’re all too tired to think of a safe place to hide or if we’re honestly screwed.

I lean my head on Creed’s shoulder, sighing in delight when he wraps his arm around me and holds me tight. He presses a kiss to my head, and somehow it helps me settle. We’ll figure it all on as we go, but tonight, at least, we’re safe. With that knowledge, I manage to fall asleep against Creed.

31

Griffin

It’s two o’clock in the morning when someone knocks on my door. I couldn’t sleep for shit anyway, so it’s not bothering me. We stopped at a hotel near a crowded truck stop about forty minutes after Asher asked me to start my search. We managed to get three rooms side by side, with Creed and Prudence sharing. I considered staying with Asher, but Prudence’s words from earlier in the day held me back.

You should feel free to be with who you want.

Don’t get me wrong, I do want Asher. Finally crashing back together after so long was euphoric. But he and I still need to talk about what exactly we’re doing. If it’s just a fling, some sex to let out his energy in the midst of all this bullshit, then that’s fine. But I need to know so I don’t fall in love with him all over again.

But more than that, her soft words made me wish I could grab her and tell her she’s who I want, too. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, that I’ll do whatever it takes to earn her forgiveness, and that me being with Asher doesn’t take away the pain from the hole she left in my chest. I just couldn’t get the words out before she was walking back up the stairs.

Someone knocks again, drawing my attention back to the present. With heavy, tired eyes, I push off the bed and cross the small hotel room. I freeze the second I get the door opened. Prudence stands in the hallway, wearing nothing but a long, black Led Zeppelin tee — that looks suspiciously like one of Creed’s shirts — leaving her pale legs bare. Her red, wavy hair tumbles around her shoulders, framing her face perfectly and falling over the tops of her breasts, and it takes an immense effort not to let my eyes eat up her pert little nipples as they poke through the thin fabric.

Jesus Christ, now is not the time to pop a boner, and yet my dick is wide awake and straining for her.

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