Page 4 of The Devils of Saint City

He needs to know, I remind myself. They both do. “Heat, stress, and just being horny.”

“No one can avoid stress, but the other two can be solved easily.” There’s a brief moment where it seems like he might offer his services, but it’s gone before I can preemptively tell him no. “I’d be in fucking jail if I had that shit, no doubt about it.”

“It’s a miracle I’m not. I—”

Asher comes back just as the timer on the oven dings, stopping our conversation in its tracks. “Help yourselves.”

“Damn, no table service?” He sits next to Manson with a smirk, spinning something around on the dining room table I can’t make out, and when I focus enough to notice what it is my breathing stops short. It’s the remote. “Come on, Rhea. Take care of us.”

There’s no way. He’s cruel, but there’s no way. “Iamtaking care of you,” I argue quietly. “I cooked, cleaned, did your laundry. I’ll do the dishes after. I think you two grown men can handle getting your own p—”

The shock makes me gasp and nearly rip the bracelet off. It travels up my arm, through my shoulder, and straight to my cold, dead heart.

“Wanna know something funny, Manson?” He spins the remote again as his best friend finally catches on. “She hasn’t even said thank you for letting her move in. You think her mom ever thanked my dad for all he did?”

Yeah, with a knife tohiscold, dead heart. If he was anything like his son behind closed doors, maybe she was onto something. “Thank you,” I say as sarcastically sweet as I can. “Please, have a seat. I’ll bring your dinners right out.”

After I spit in them.

Any hope I had of Manson being on my side fades as he asks for the remote. “How’s it work?” I hear them muttering about it as I angrily dish up their food, and just as I’m about to lift them up, it shocks me again. “Oh shit,” he says with a chuckle. The fuckers are getting off on the power. “Don’t forget the drinks.”

“Fine, but if I drop them because you shock me again, I’m not fucking cleaning it up.” I slam their plates down and flip them both off as I turn to grab glasses, pausing only when Asher reminds me I didn’t ask them what they want. Anger coils in my gut as I slowly spin around. “Sorry,Sirs,”I spit. “What can I get you to wet your cursed fucking tongues?”

The way Asher slides that tongue along his plump bottom lip should be illegal. “You wish you knew what we did with our tongues. You’d never have an episode if we put you to sleep. I want a Dr. Pepper, pet. Manson wants Mountain Dew.”

“Cubed ice for me, crushed for Ash... pet.”

They’re both smiling so widely, I feel my stomach drop. I knew I had to be careful. I knew there was a chance that Asher would try to kill me again, or at least hurt me. But I never considered the fact that he’d torture me, too.

Foolish girl.

I nearly fuck up who wants what on purpose, but I don’t want to know what they’ll do to me. So Ash gets his fucking crushed ice and Dr. Pepper and Manson gets cubed with Mountain Dew, untouched and served with a smile they can’t possibly believe is genuine.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, where’s your plate?”

I meet Manson’s eyes as I answer. “In the cupboard with the rest of my dignity.” Spinning, I go grab it so I can take my food into my room, but the sound of two chairs scraping against the floor stops me in my tracks.

“Get over here.” This time, it’s Asher. “Eat with us.”

“Yeah, new roomie,” Manson adds. “We’re all still getting reacquainted.”

Fuck. They look like predators as I take awkward steps toward the open chair and sit down. “Happy?”

Asher’s jaw is so tense, I’m surprised he doesn’t crack a tooth. He’s staring at me with a look I know too well — one that promises violence, retribution. He doesn’t back down until Manson sits and clears his throat, and even then, the tension is thick as he takes a seat.

“One happy family,” Manson says with a fake smile, but he waits for my stepbrother to take a drink of his pop before he truly relaxes and takes a bite. “Well, shit that’s good. Taste it, Ash.”

I’ll get a real compliment out of this guy when hell freezes over, but he begrudgingly takes a bite of my chicken tetrazzini and nods.

Close enough.

“I told you. I’ll earn my keep, but I think I need to take that remote back.”

You’d think they’re fucking twins. Like when they stood, they stop eating at the same moment and hastily reach for where it sits. Unfortunately, Ash is the victor. “Why?”

It disappears into his pocket as I sit calmly. “Because I’m not your little pet. I’ll do what I can to make sure I’m not a burden, but I’m no one’s pet. I’d appreciate it if you’d only use that in case of emergency or I’ll just take it off.”

---