Page 65 of Deliver us from Evil

The taste of strawberries goes sour in my mouth. “No.” My back is still turned. “I’m not…” I want to say ready, but that’s not the right word.

I hear fabric rustle. Zachary getting to his feet. I hear his bare feet on the floor as he comes closer. The moment his hands touch my shoulders, I spin around and shove him away.

There’s a sudden tension in the room, like every one of his brothers is holding his breath.

“I said no.” The words are barely a whisper.

Zach watches me, and then nods. He takes a step back, drops his eyes. “Okay.”

I blink hard, and look away making sure I don’t catch anyone else’s eye.

No, he hasn’t changed. He might act it, and his brothers might insist he has, but I know he’s the same angry, spiteful person he was six months ago.

Sure, he’s been going to therapy. But from what Cass tells me—which isn’t a lot—he’s only just started on a very long journey.

And in the meantime? He’s pumping himself full of drugs so he’ll be the kind of man we all want him to be.

Calm.

Peaceful.

But what happens when he stops taking his drugs? Will he be holding a knife up my skirt and telling me to fuck off again?

Yes, I’m grateful he saved my life. But he’s the whole reason I was in that house to begin with. It’s because ofhimthat I told Gabriel everything I knew. He’s the one that made me question everything I thought I knew. And when I had no answers, I turned to the only man I thought could provide them.

Gabriel.

His brothers think he’s earned my forgiveness.

He hasn’t.

Not even close.

But every time I try to explain it to them, I get tangled up in words and emotions. So I told them I wasn’t ready. That I had things to work through before I’d let Zachary be a larger part of our lives than he is now. Because I can’t deny them anything, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him anywhere near my heart.

The sound of my damp feet is barely audible over my pounding heart as I head to the top floor. The entire level is reserved for the main suite. Bedroom. En suite bathroom. Massive walk-in closet. A small lounge. A wrap-around balcony with a hot tub.

I lied about going to sleep. I’m too wired for that to even be an option. But at least I can rinse my hair and get into some comfy clothes. My skin’s pebbling after being in that warm pool.

When I step inside the black, gold-veined marble shower, it turns on automatically.

Apollo rigged the whole house with stuff like that. At night, my way is lighted with barely-visible downlights all the way down to the kitchen for a glass of water. When I step into the pool, the lights turn on.

I lose myself under the shower’s rain setting, trying not to think about the looming argument.

It always comes when I say no.

Then my men spend days trying to change my mind. We fight. We make up. And the whole thing’s forgotten for a week or two.

Then the cycle begins again.

I’m considering telling them Zachary has to leave.

But he provides for us. Everything we have, it’s because of him. And they’ve moved on already. They truly forgave him in that hospital room.

It’s just me.

Fingers skate down my spine. I spin around, gasping, for some reason expecting it to be Zachary.

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