Page 44 of Seizing Control: Part Two

It’s easy to remain sweet while we’re ensconced in my bedroom at night-time.

Existing in secret, we can bask in the glow of our reunion without outside pressures.

I dread the re-emergence of Venom once life intrudes on our cosy cocoon. His aggressive nature doesn’t affect me in the same way Slash’s darkness does. Whereas my husband challenges my triggers, Venom controls them with a deft touch that borders on traumatic. He scares me, even though I love him... which is a something I never truly grasped until I experienced the difference with Slash.

Fear and passion can go hand in hand.

In fact, I’m a huge fan of it.

When it spills over into unbridled violence, I struggle to accept it.

“Sweet thing?” I jerk when Lazarus says his pet name for me to regain my wavering attention. Scanning him with a questioning gaze, I watch him touch the communication device he habitually wears in his left ear. “Yes. Okay. Give me five.” He hits me with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sweet thing, but I’m late for work.”

When he turns his head, I catch sight of the earpiece. It’s morphed for the third time in the past few weeks. I started paying attention as my suspicions have started to ramp up over the true mastermind behind the scheme to kill Zeke and resurrect him as Lazarus. The device gets smaller and more discreet by the day, an evolution that matches the changes in my first love’s speech and his demeanour.

He is evolving before my eyes.

And scaring me in the process.

“Lil?”

“I, uh...” After giving myself a mental shake, I swallow down my misgivings to say, “See you tonight.”

Lazarus blows me a kiss, then pulls my bedroom shut behind him. His departure is as soundless as his arrival. I flop back in my bed, pull the covers up to my ears, kick out a leg, and mould my hands to the lower swell of my stomach. The ceiling is streaked with blue stripes thrown by the nightlight I use illuminate the room. Tracing the lines with my eyes, I realise that I’m uneasy about seeing Lazarus again. My decision to keep Slash in the dark is the first road bump we’ve hit, and it has the potential to drive a wedge between us if I let it.

When I re-run our conversation again in my head, reality hits me hard.

Lazarus didn’t promise to come back tonight.

It’s the first time he’s left without telling me when he’ll return.

In the nearly two weeks since he revealed himself to me, we’ve spent three nights apart. Both times, Lazarus told me beforehand. He divulged how long he’d be gone, without going in to too much detail about whatever he was up to, and was back almost to the minute of the time he told me he would return. Gabriel was absent at the same time, and the information I gleaned from the few colleagues I keep in touch with was disturbing.

I’m starting to piece things together, and every tidbit I learn makes me worry more.

It’s obvious that Zeke got himself tied up in Gabriel’s world.

The Adjudicator didn’t only cut a deal on mine and Slash’s behalf, he also roped my first love into his underworld games too. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Zeke couldn’t have faked his death with such realism without help. His resurrection required assistance as well. The gadgets he carries, and his ability to get in and out of my house without detection means he’s being assisted by someone with skills superior to Cub’s.

Then, there’s the biggest clue of them all.

His new name.

Lazarus Abaddon.

The last name cannot be a coincidence. Just like it isn’t a coincidence or oversight that Lazarus left this morning without telling me when I’ll see him next. Despite the angst between us, his mood wasn’t sufficiently dark for me to believe that’s he’s punishing me by withholding his promise—not that I would expect that kind of behaviour from Lazarus.

There’s something else going on.

I hate secrets…

Knowing that sleep isn’t going to return easily, I climb out of bed. Huddled in my robe with Garrett’s monitor in my hand, I make my way downstairs. Crystal has spent the night at her house with Angelis, and it’s too early for my brothers to be awake, so I figure I’ll get to a couple of hours alone.

“Milo and Netflix,” I mutter myself.

While the milk frother clicks and bubbles, I prepare my cup. Three generous scoops of Milo, half a teaspoon of raw sugar, and freshly frothed milk. Decadence in a mug. My first pregnancy changed my relationship with caffeine forever. This pregnancy has turned me off tea. Thankfully, the childhood choc-malt drink that I used to steal out of the pantry and eat with a spoon has proven a decent alternative.

It’s my morning pick-me-up, my afternoon delight, and my post-dinner treat.

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