Page 44 of Lost in Life

I shake my head and walk toward the bathroom, leaving Rex’s corpse for them to deal with, my soul feeling both lighter and damned all at once. My heart hurts as I close the door. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I don’t recognize the man staring back at me.

Sorry, Mom. Looks like I won’t be joining you after all, hell’s got a claim on my soul now.

Chapter 22

Nova

I stare at the mangled corpse in front of me. Rex’s head is slumped forward, the knife used to end his life sticking out of the top of his skull, one lastfuck youfrom West.

Zayn whistles beside me, walking up and inspecting the damage my broken friend has done. “I knew the kid had a violent streak but,” Whistling again, he grins at me over his shoulder. “He’s a natural.” Running his gaze down my body, he quirks an eyebrow. “What about you, beautiful?”

I stiffen, my eyes darting to the corpse beside him and back. “What about me?” I retort, trying to keep down the fear I feel at being trapped in this cabin with both of them.

Zayn rubs his hand over his jaw, humming thoughtfully. “You know, maybe this could work.” Getting lost in thought, he mumbles something to himself that sounds suspiciously like another language. Latin maybe?

Sighing, I turn my back on him, heading to the closed bathroom door.

I’m so over his bullshit and refusal to answer a fucking question. Like, what’s so hard with just giving a straight answer?

Knocking on the door, I call out, “West? It’s me. Can I come in?” Silence greets me. “West?” I call again, rapping my knuckles against the wood. When I’m met with continued silence, I give up, my shoulders slumping as I slink away in defeat.

There was once a time I would have just barged in, but that was a lifetime ago.

I catch sight of Zayn typing on his phone as I walk to the couch and fling myself onto it. Kicking my feet up, I watch as he sets his phone down on the counter beside a set of keys I hadn’t noticed earlier. He begins cleaning up the crime scene in front of us. His grunts fill the small room, making the space between my legs tingle.

Stop it.

I mentally chastise my pussy.

You’ve gotten me in enough trouble as it is.

My gaze travels down Zayn’s frame, his muscles bunching as he hoists the corpse over his shoulder. At some point he took off his shirt, revealing artwork covering nearly every inch of his skin. My fingers itch to trace over the designs, to learn the stories behind each one.

Catching me watching him, Zayn smirks, flexing his muscles. I lick my lips, getting lost in the rippling muscles, a soft moan slipping out as I imagine them moving over me.

In the span of a heartbeat, he chucks the body on the ground, crossing the room with long, quick strides. Hovering over me, he snaps his hand out, grabbing hold of my braid. With a firm grip, he yanks my head back. Leaning down, his breath ghosts across my skin as he hums, “The violence get you all hot and bothered, beautiful?” Flicking his eyes up to mine, a cheshire grin spreads across his face. “Or is it me that has this effect on you, my little nightmare?”

My breath catches as I stare into his grey eyes, getting lost in the liquid clouds. He chuckles, pulling my head back farther, exposing my throat. I shudder as his lips press softly to my skin, a gasp escaping when his teeth sink into the sensitive flesh.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” He admits, brushing his lips against me with each muttered word. “Ever since that hospital room, you’ve consumed my every waking thought.”

My heart flutters at his words. A desperate hope that they’re true. That I could be the center of someone’s world.

You already are.

My mind decides now is the perfect time to interject that reminder, a flash of West’s bloodied face flashing behind my eyes. Along with it another memory surfaces, effectively dousing any flames of desire still burning.

With the memory, an idea sparks.

Lifting a hand, I trail it down Zayn’s bare back, electricity buzzing from the connection. I meet his heated gaze, biting my bottom lip. His eyes snap to my mouth, darkening further as his pupils blow with desire.

A groan slips free from his lips. “You really are my nightmare, aren’t you, beautiful?” He murmurs, stroking the loose strands of hair back from my face with his free hand. “One I hope not to wake up from.” A pang of guilt hits me, but I push it aside.

Don’t feel bad for him. He’s a murderer.

My eyes shift to the bathroom.

They both are.

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