Page 76 of Cruel Devil

I scream and I slap and I kick and I try to push away Athena and rip Phoebe’s hand from my hair, but now Athena’s hugging me, big fat tears rolling down her face as she watches me with a sad little smile as her sister drags my head closer to Athena’s gaping stomach, trying to pull me inside to be with her.

You’re.

Too.

Late!

I wake up with a strangled scream as Phoebe’s whispered curse echoes in my head.

My body remains immobile, still deep in the nightmare’s clutches.

Savage’s clutches.

The room is dark, but as soon as my eyes adjust I can see his strong, tattooed arm slung over my hip, his hand wedged between my shoulder and neck. There’s another weight on my feet, and I almost have a heart attack before I feel Bella’s heartbeat and realize it’s Savage’s massive Rottweiler crushing my ankles.

Was that why I couldn’t run in my nightmare?

I gingerly sit up, wincing when a section of my hair pulls, trapped under Savage’s other arm he’s using as a pillow for his head.

Gently unraveling myself so I don’t wake him or Bella, I rush into the bathroom and push the door closed.

I barely make it to the basin before a harsh sob breaks out of me, turning my legs to jelly. I surrender, huddling into a little ball on the floor as I muffle my tears with my hands.

There’s a soft scratch on the door, and fight back another sob as I carefully open the door. Bella stares at me through the crack, her eyes reflecting a shard of light from somewhere inside the dark bathroom.

“No. Bad dog. Don’t you dare,” I whisper. “Sit. Stay.”

We watch each other for a moment, and then she noses open the door like she’s had just enough of people telling her what the hell to do. I try to fend her off, but it’s really difficult arguing with a hundred-pound Rottweiler when it decides it wants cuddles and you’re already on the floor.

I end up throwing my arms around the beast’s shoulders, burrowing into her neck and surrendering to my heart-wrenching sobs.

Guess I’m not as good at compartmentalizing as I thought.

Chapter 25

Nyx

Savage’s leather jacket rustles as he brings his beer to his lips.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he says, before taking a sip.

“I’m trying.”

He looks a hell of a lot better today in a crisp white t-shirt and freshly laundered black jeans. Even though it looks like days since his tousled hair has seen more than his fingers.

“I’ll get the chef to cook something else.” He’s already trying to spot the closest servant, or soldier, or whatever constitutes ‘the help’ at a cartel-owned villa.

“This is fine, Caesar.”

Bella whines, but I force myself not to look at her. Just because we bonded in the bathroom last night and I had to wipe snot off her fur before we went back to bed doesn’t mean I’m going to hand over my food.

I toy with a roast chicken leg, even going so far as to bring it to my lips. It looks and smells fucking delicious, as does the spicy rice, the avocado salad, and another dish—red beans mixed with some kind of meat, maybe pork.

But the thought of having to chew and swallow anything makes me think of my stomach, and that makes me think of my nightmare.

And then the photo of that poor, chopped up girl on Matty’s phone.

The girl I thought was Athena until I saw her dark hair.

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