Page 116 of Devious Lies

I stare at him, but he just growls and turns on the water.

It’s fucking cold. But I still make no sound.

“Don’t go catatonic on me, asshole. Here,” he squeezes shampoo onto my head.

“And hurry your ass up, or I’ll tell Maria you asked me to wash your dick,” he says.

What the fuck is wrong with him, saying shit like that at a time like this?

But it’s just like Angel. And it gets me moving.

There’s only one person allowed access to my body, and that’s her. No one, and I mean that, no fucking one, is ever coming close to my dick again.

Just her. Only Maria.

My Baby Girl.

My love.

I scrub soap all over my hair and body.

I step into the now warm water and watch red rivers wash off my skin, spiraling down the drain.

Fuck.

I am covered in blood.

Some of it is Maria’s, and that makes me want to howl like a wounded beast.

But most, I am sure, is that dead fucking pig’s blood.

And that placates me.

I don’t care what it takes to convince her to stay with me.

But I’m going to do it.

She took a bullet meant for me.

My heart squeezes. I never want her in danger again.

She says she loves me.

My pulse races. I love her back. And I am going to tell her as soon as she opens her beautiful almond eyes.

Maria is my other half in every single way.

She sees the madness in me, and she doesn’t shy away.

She takes in the hard parts and sharp edges, and she cradles them to her breast.

So much. She does so much for me.

Soothes the rage.

Sates the hunger.

Makes the quiet more palatable.

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